We were making inroads. And today, I was going to give her something that meant that.
I only hoped that she was responsive to it. Of course, now that I thought about it, it sounded like I was overreacting and making a big deal out of something that could be normal practice. Sensible.
Or too big of a step so quickly.
I got dressed and went to see what I could make her for brunch. She’d had a girls’ night the night before, so she hadn’t stayed the night as we had originally planned. She needed girls’ time, and I understood that. So, I had hung out with the guys. Now, I was starving and couldn’t wait to see her.
Times sure had changed.
I turned on my music again, dancing poorly throughout the kitchen as I figured out what I needed to make. I had a bottle of champagne for mimosas because she loved those—we were millennials, after all, it was what we were supposed to do.
I laughed at that, even if nobody else heard the joke, and then figured out what else I could make for her.
I liked cooking, even if I wasn’t the best at it.
I enjoyed making sure that she was cared for because I knew not a lot of people had done that for her in the past. Her girls did it now for sure. And I would be forever grateful that she had found a family amidst the ruins of what she had grown up in and with.
My hands fisted on the counter, and I counted to ten, doing my best not to imagine hurting the man who had hurt her.
I couldn’t change the past, but maybe I could make her a future promise.
I only hoped that she wanted the same thing.
I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that things had changed for me, the time where I could say that, from this exact point, I loved her and wanted to see where we could go with our lives together. The feeling had been steadily building, and now I didn’t want to turn away from it—something I might have done in the past.
Not with Paris.
That meant something.
The doorbell rang, and I frowned at the clock, wondering how she had gotten here so quickly. Maybe she hadn’t done her hair. We were just going to have a lazy day. I wouldn’t mind that.
I looked at all the vegetables and eggs I had on the counter and figured they could last for a minute while I went to the door. I walked over, wearing only gray sweatpants and nothing else since I hadn’t bothered to finish getting ready yet. I opened the door, about to make a joke about my dick because…hello, it was Paris and me. Instead, I froze, blinking quickly and wondering if I should have perhaps looked through the peephole before I opened the door.
“Baby.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked Allison as she tried to push her way past me.
She nearly stepped on my foot with her high heel, and I involuntarily took a step back. She put her hand on my chest, gliding past me into my house.
I couldn’t physically stop her. If I did, then I’d have to put my hands on her, and I’d end up throwing her out on her ass.
And that wasn’t something I was about to do.
“I asked you a question, Allison. And I didn’t invite you in.”
“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean? Wait, I know what you mean. Get out. You’re not wanted here.”
I saw the hurt mixed with calculation in her expression, and I wondered how I could have been so wrong about someone. Then again, I hadn’t looked beyond the surface. Just as she hadn’t. We had been who we needed to be for each other in the moment. We weren’t anything more than that. We never had been. And it had taken me too long to realize that.
“You don’t need to be cruel,” she said, and that calculating gaze was back.
“You’re right. I didn’t need to snap. However, you did just force your way into my home. I would like for you to leave, now.”
“Let me say my piece first.”
“I don’t need to hear it. You and your guy Tony can ride off into the sunset. What you did in my bed, the fact that I had to get a new fucking mattress and sheets? That’s in the past now. I’m over it. I don’t need to hash it out.”
“You replaced the mattress that you and I made love on?”
“Okay, then. We’ve officially reached a new stage of what the fuck. You fucked your ex or whatever he currently is on my bed. Not our bed, mine. I got a new mattress mostly because I needed a new one anyway, and you were the final straw.”
“I don’t understand why you’re saying these words to me.”
“I don’t know who you are right now. Because you are not the Allison that I used to date. Maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough, and for that, I am sorry. You really don’t need to be here, though.”
She looked around my home, kind of frowned at my kitchen counter and all the groceries out there so I could make brunch for Paris.
“You’re going to make a meal for her? You never cooked for me.”
“Okay, we’re done. Get out.”
“I hope you’re happy with her. You’ll never have with her what we could have had, though.”
“You’re right. I have an open and honest relationship with her, and I know she’s never going to fuck her ex in my bed.”
“You don’t need to keep throwing that in my face.”
“If you leave, then I won’t have to.”
Someone cleared their throat from behind me, and I closed my eyes and let out a breath.
I turned to see Paris standing there, champagne in one hand, a bag of produce in the other. She was wearing jeans and a tank top, her hair piled on the top of her head, and she had indeed not finished it for the day. Because today was supposed to be our lazy day, one where we could just hang out and do nothing.
And now she was walking in on me shirtless in gray sweats, her favorite thing on me for some unknown reason, with my ex standing in my house, tears streaming down her cheeks. It was too fucking early in the morning for this.
“Oh, we didn’t see you there,” Allison purred.
“No, don’t do that,” Paris said, shaking her head.
“Excuse me?” Allison asked.
“You heard him, he told you to leave, and he was very polite about it. I spoke to you before this, and you were nice. You were not on whatever trip you’re currently on. You don’t need to resort to whatever you’re doing right now. You are a stronger person than this. If you don’t get the fuck out of his house right now, I’m going to be the one who hits you. Because he’s not going to force you bodily out of the building, because he’s nice like that. I’m the bitch.”
I held back a smile because she looked so fucking hot saying that.
Yes, I was fucking in love with Paris.
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”
“Out,” I said.
“Prior.”
“Don’t whine. That isn’t you. I don’t know what’s up with you and Tony, and I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry that I wasn’t a good enough boyfriend. Except you don’t need to be here. We’re never going to get back together. And you shouldn’t be acting like this. You’re better than this.”
“I hate you,” she snapped.
“Whatever you feel, that’s your right.”
Paris spoke up. “You don’t hate him. You just hate yourself right now. What you should have done is cut him out of all the photos with you, burn them, and then get drunk and move on. You don’t come to his house and act like this. This isn’t you.”