“I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with all that shit on your own,” Isaac says, handing me a cup of chamomile tea.
I pull the blanket off the back of the couch, draping it over my bare legs and feet. “It hasn’t been so bad. The job is actually more interesting than I thought it’d be.”
“But it’s not accounting.”
“No.” I blow on the top of the cup, taking a tentative sip of the hot tea. “But it probably would’ve led to a job in the finance department.”
“How’s your dad?” he asks, purposely switching the subject.
“He’s just been diagnosed with stage four stomach cancer.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, baby.” He scoots closer, attempting to pull me into his arms, but I shuck him off.
“Don’t, Isaac. And I’m not your baby anymore.”
“You’re pissed.”
I turn to face him.
He’s biting on his lower lip and running his hands through his hair. “I know I went a bit crazy these past few months, but you left me, and I was distraught.” He leans forward, stabbing me with a sincere look. “None of the girls I was with meant anything.” He reaches for my hand, but I shake my head, and he pulls back. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
“You’ve a funny way of showing it,” I say, in between sipping my tea.
The truth is, I was a little hurt when my ex-roommate and best friend told me about Isaac’s new manwhore rep around campus but not nearly as hurt as I should’ve been. It became obvious, very quickly, that what Isaac and I shared was over long before I broke things off. Something I did because trying to maintain a long-distance relationship, as well as working full-time, and caring for my disabled father, would never have worked out.
Even though it killed me back then, I knew ending things was the best thing for both of us.
And I haven’t regretted my decision, because the truth is, I haven’t missed him.
Not in the way I should.
“You didn’t reach out to me, at all, after I left UMaine. Not even to inquire after Dad.” That disappointed me above everything, because Isaac and I were great friends before we became more, and I thought he might at least have checked in on me from time to time.
“I wanted to, but you hurt me.”
I stare at him incredulously, wondering where the sweet, considerate guy I fell for has disappeared to.
I guess I’m not the only one who’s changed.
“Isaac. My dad had a stroke. He almost died. He was paralyzed and kicked out of his job. It’s not like I made a conscious choice to break up with you, but it was the only decision that made sense.” I shake my head in disgust. “And from what I’ve heard, it seems like you didn’t have much difficulty moving on.”
He, at least, has the decency to look ashamed.
Silence engulfs us for a few minutes.
“Did you really hook up with that jerk?” he asks, and I’m tempted to hit him. After everything I just said, that’s what he wants to say to me?
“It was one time. When I had temporary brain failure,” I quip, because that’s the only way I can reconcile the epic mistake in my head.
“Have you dated?” he asks, continuing to pry.
Man, he really is clueless. “I barely have time to breathe most days, let alone date, Isaac.”
“I’m sorry I abandoned you. That was insensitive and hurtful of me.” He moves in closer. “But I’m here now. I want to be here for you if you’ll let me make it up to you.” Sincerity oozes from his pores, and I know he means it, but he’s got blinders on.
“I forgive you, Isaac, and I appreciate you saying that, and coming to see me, but what we have is in the past, and it’s time you forgot about me. I will always cherish the time we shared, but we’re not right for one another.”
His chest heaves as he stares at me. “Is it him?”
My jaw trails to the floor. “Are you serious right now? Did you not see what went down earlier?”
“I saw exactly what went down earlier,” he retorts, in a clipped tone, standing up and grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. “I don’t think I’m the one who has issues seeing things clearly.” He leans down, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “He’s not good enough for you, Demi. And I’ve seen his type before. He’ll only use you up and then toss you aside. You’re worth way more than that.”
Yes, I am.
I watch him walk out of Xena’s apartment and out of my life for good.
I also know I’m better than my behavior tonight. But the million-dollar question is, what am I going to do about this new mess I find myself in?
CHAPTER 5
Charlie
I wake Sunday morning with a monster hangover, thanks to the half bottle of JD I poured down my throat when I got home. I roll over in my bed, groaning as I stretch my arm out, feeling along the top of my bedside table for my cell. Finding it, I turn over and prop myself up with some pillows against the headboard.
I stay in bed as I scroll through my inbox. Most are work emails, and I’ve a couple of missed calls from some guys I know from Parkhurst. I ignore the angry texts from Emilia, deleting and blocking her number so I don’t have to deal with her shit ever again.
She was not impressed when I dropped her home and refused to come in. I had zero interest in screwing her after what went down at the club. Instead, I jerked off in the shower to thoughts of Demi’s rage-filled eyes, coming violently against the tile wall.
After I call Lil, I pull on some sweats and pad downstairs in my bare feet. Ghosts of the past follow me as I traipse into the kitchen, and I remember noisy mornings, filled with conversation and laughter, Mom’s homemade honey and apple muffins, and Dad’s freshly squeezed orange juice.
I plant my hands on the edge of the sink, staring absently out the window at the massive gardens spanning the rear of the vast property, wondering how it all went so wrong.
I squeeze my eyes shut, warding off further memories, and the painful ache in my chest serves as a constant reminder of everything I’ve lost.
After a few minutes, I force my tired body to move, switching the Keurig on and pouring a bowl of granola. The only sound in the room is a crunching noise as I shovel spoonsful of cereal in my mouth.
There are a lot of things I hate about my life now, but the constant silence is the thing I hate most. My desolation is reflected in the hollow echo bouncing off the walls, and I can’t stand it any longer.
Jumping up, I storm into the laundry room, grabbing my sneakers. I lace them tight and exit the house via the rear side door, jogging to the running track that skims the perimeter of the woodland at the far side of our garden.
I only have my depressive thoughts for company as I attempt to outrun my demons, and I push my body hard while I’m silently screaming inside.
I arrive back at the house sometime later, dripping in sweat and breathless, but at least, I feel more alive, and the brisk morning air has chased some of the cobwebs from my throbbing head.
I grab a quick shower, pop a couple of pain pills, and head down to my home office to complete an assignment due this week. I pass by the locked door of my father’s study with the usual lump in my throat. Neither Mom nor I could stomach going in there after he died, so we locked it up and threw away the key.