I nibble on my bottom lip and look out toward the bar where I see Rath waiting for a water. “Do you think he still has feelings for her?”
Linus shrugs. “I honestly don’t know.” He takes my hand and says, “But he has you, so he’s happy.”
“I thought he was, until he was staring in my direction the entire wedding . . . with Vanessa sitting in front of me.”
Linus shakes his head. “I doubt he was staring at her.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because, I see the way he looks at you.” Linus sighs and says, “I know I took the news a little weird about your engagement, and that’s because I was nervous about my credibility. I didn’t want Rath thinking I suggested you as an assistant because I was trying to hook up my friend with a rich guy.” Well, that makes sense. “But I know that was silly. I was just nervous, you know?”
“Oh, I get it, seriously. No worries.” I turn to look at Rath again, but this time, he’s not at the bar. I look around and then spot him, standing by the door, talking to her. “Oh God, they’re talking.”
“Where? Oh . . . I see them.”
“What do you think, is he still interested?”
Linus shakes his head just as Rath slips his hand to her back and laughs, just like he slipped his hand to my back. My stomach revolts on itself and I swear, I can see it all unraveling in front of me.
His reluctance to open up to me.
His urgency to be engaged.
His demand that my ring be huge, a status symbol many people will be checking on.
His need for me to look beautiful tonight.
It all makes sense.
All those things were important to him. Not me.
“He’s using me,” I say on an exhaled breath.
“What? No.” Linus shakes his head. “Mr. Westin isn’t like that.”
“Or is he?” I turn to Linus. “He clearly isn’t over her. Look at the way he can’t take his eyes off her, the hold he has on her lower back, the smile on his face. That smile isn’t reserved for me. And when he suggested we get married, it came out of nowhere. My grandma is sick, but I never expected him to offer that. I was so skeptical at first, but he told me it would help him out too with certain events and whatnot. We haven’t been to one event, besides this one. He’s not happy about her being engaged. This is all to make her jealous.” I laugh sarcastically and fold my arms over each other. “I can’t believe I fell for it. For his, I don’t want to share tactics. The fact that we only kept things in the bedroom. That we never socialized with his friends.” Why bother if the engagement had a very definite end date—when he saw his ex? “The fact that he still hasn’t introduced me to his parents . . . even before today . . . at their daughter’s wedding. I feel like such a fool, Linus. He was using me.”
“Charlee, maybe there’s an explanation.”
I stand from the bench and visibly shake as I move my dress so it doesn’t get snagged. “Yeah, the explanation I gave you. I know you like Rath, Linus, and you think very highly of him, but this doesn’t feel right. I know when I’m being taken advantage of, and I will not stand for it.” I tuck my clutch under my arm and say, “If anyone asks, I wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want to spoil the evening for Julia and Bram.”
“Charlee, please don’t go. This could be nothing.”
I give what I assume looks like just a sad look. But inside, my heart has been ripped in two. “Or this is pretty much everything I feared. I’ll talk to you later, Linus.”
Without another parting goodbye, I work my way around the building, avoiding Rath, and hail a cab. I should possibly stay and listen, maybe be here for Bram and Julia, but I’m hanging on by a thread, and if I don’t leave immediately, I’ll make a scene.
Trust me, I’m doing everyone a favor.
When I get back to my apartment, I don’t even bother switching on the lights, and head straight to my room, where I quickly undress and get into a pair of flannel pants and a regular white T-shirt. I release my hair from its confines and remove my caked-on makeup, hating that I felt pretty today, really pretty, and that I was only Rath’s Barbie doll to show off to his friends, to his ex.
By the time I’m done taking everything off, I check my phone where I see a few texts from Rath. I don’t bother reading them. A small part of me feels bad for leaving, knowing Rath can’t leave the wedding, not that he would. Maybe he’s having a fun time with Vanessa, dancing with her, laughing with her, getting drinks with her. Who knows, maybe Vanessa really isn’t engaged either and they’re both trying to pull fast ones to benefit themselves?
Not even remotely hungry, but thirsty from the dry champagne, I decide to get a drink but that’s when I hear my grandma walk into the apartment.
Crap. I don’t want her to know I’m home, because she’ll wonder if everything is okay with Rath, and the last thing I need is for her to worry. So, I go to shut my door just as I hear a voice say, “So you told her you were sick?”
I know that voice. That’s LeeAnn, Grandma’s friend from her senior home.
“I know you’re judging me, but she wasn’t moving on with her life. I saw the way she was looking at Rath. She needed to be pushed in the right direction.”
Wait . . . what?
“So, to get her to date again, you told her you were sick? Oh Janice, that wasn’t a good idea. What happens when she finds out you’re not?”
“I’ll just tell her the tests came back skewed and everything is fine.” For the third time today, my stomach falls to the floor and the need to throw up is heavy. “I did it for a good reason.”
Unsure what takes over me, I fling the door open, and storm into the kitchen. “And what reason was that, Grandma?” I ask, tears I didn’t even know I was crying, streaming down my face.
Startled, she rears back and says, “Chuckie, I didn’t know you were home. Aren’t you supposed to be at the wedding?”
“Yeah, but I left because looks like everyone in my life enjoys lying to me.”
“Rath lied to you?”
I shake my head, growing angrier by the second. “No, I’m not here to talk about him, I’m here to find out why you’ve been lying to me. My own grandma.”
“Chuckie . . . it’s not what you think.”
“Are you sick?” I ask, my voice terse. “Don’t lie to me.”
Licking her lips, she looks to LeeAnn, who backs away, and then to me.
“Are you?” I repeat myself.
“Honey, I . . . I saw how you looked at him.”
“So, you thought getting mixed up with my boss was a good idea for me?” I cry. “How is that a good idea?”
“I saw it all on my birthday. The glances, the smiles. I knew there was something there, more than just a mutual appreciation for one another. There was so much more, there was—”
“You had no right,” I say, yelling at my grandma for the first time in my life. “You had no right to step into my life and try to get me romantically involved with my boss. And then on top of that, you faked being ill? Do you realize how stressed and anxious I’ve been about you? Who . . . who does that?” I fling my arms to the side. “Holy fuck, who does that? I thought you were dying.”