The Breakup

by Erin McCarthy

  “Excuse me,” he said. “I have an appointment.”

  I shook my head, determined to stay strong. I had thought about this all night. Had discussed it with my parents. This was what I wanted and he was going to comply with me for the first time in the entirety of our relationship. “No, you don’t. You’re not selling that house. You’re deeding it to me.”

  His jaw dropped. “Why the fuck would I do that? You’re the one who left me standing at the altar like a complete loser. You humiliated me.”

  That was a little satisfying, I had to admit. “Like you humiliated me?” I said, refusing to back down. I had dressed for success today. I was wearing a pencil skirt and a sleeveless polka-dot sweater with hot-pink pumps. My hair was done. Makeup and lashes on point. I had wanted to make my appearance in public feeling in control. I had wanted Bradley to see me and think he was a fool.

  “I guess we’re even then.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out sunglasses. “Doesn’t mean I owe you a house.”

  “Yes, it does. Because the way it stands right now, no one knows you were a serial cheater. If that gets out, everyone is going to think you’re an asshole and they’ll feel sorry for me. Women won’t date you, not seriously anyway, and your mother is going to be devastated. I took screen shots of those texts.” That was a lie, but it was a good strategic move to let him think I had them. “I’ll be the victim, you’ll be the dick. I’ll post them on social media and send them to your boss at the law firm.”

  “You wouldn’t do that.” But he looked like he wasn’t entirely sure of that statement.

  “Oh, you fucking want to bet?” I said in a steely voice. “Try me, Bradley.”

  Given that I had only sworn a handful of times in our relationship, he seemed to understand the seriousness of my conviction. “But you’ll keep quiet if I give you the house?”

  “Yes. I will happily let everyone think I’m a total flake who got cold feet. You’ll be the hero and I’ll be the crazy bitch.”

  I couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but he seemed to be thinking. “Why do you want that house?” His put his hands into the pockets of his plaid shorts.

  “I gave up my apartment in Boston and my job. And I don’t want to move in with my parents. I want somewhere to lick my wounds.” That wasn’t a lie. But I was only telling him on the off chance it would appeal to his sense of decency. Did he feel any sort of guilt?

  For a second he glanced off into traffic, then at the bay, then he cleared his throat. “That house wasn’t cheap, Bel.”

  I knew that. I had already looked up the listing on the MLS. It wasn’t outrageously expensive though and I knew he had the money. It was really just a cottage, clearly intended to be our second home to get out of the city and to spend time with family. “Neither am I.”

  Know your worth.

  That was something my parents had taught me to perfection. I may be a people pleaser and naïve as they come, but I was wising up.

  And I did know my worth.

  I hadn’t deserved any of this.

  And I wanted to stay in Maine for at least the summer. I couldn’t face going back to Boston, my entire life altered. I didn’t want to see pity on the faces of my friends and I didn’t want to beg for my job back or do the apartment scramble, trying to find something to move into immediately. I wanted to stay here, relax, get a temporary job to save up money for a security deposit while I looked for a full-time position either back in Boston or maybe in Portland. I needed time to think before I made major decisions.

  Plus, I had seen the interior of the house Bradley had bought online and I wanted it. It was adorable and beachy and sweet. He had actually chosen very wisely.

  Bradley rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger behind his sunglasses and sighed. “Fine. You can have the house. I’ll have my lawyer send you paperwork in the next day or two.”

  “Thank you,” I said, but out of triumph, not gratitude.

  “Look, I know you don’t believe me, but I do love you. Those girls had nothing to do with me and you.”

  “You just keep telling yourself that,” I said. “Maybe someday you’ll actually believe it. I never will.”

  I gave him a wave and walked down the sidewalk, loving the fact that I was wearing heels. I half expected him to make a crack about Christian, but he stayed silent. I heard a whistle and turned. A guy in a pickup grinned at me and waved.

  I didn’t even acknowledge him.

  Know your worth.

  Which was why I was able to get a job that very afternoon. It took me going in and out of every shop and restaurant in town, but I got a job waitressing.

  Unfortunately, it was at Christian’s bar.

  He was going to have to get over it.

  Bella Rose Bigelow was done being polite.

  * * *

  —

  “You hired Bella?” I said to my boss, Thomas. “Why? Why the actual hell would you do that?” I was in shock. I had walked into work Sunday and there she had been, wearing tight jeans and an even tighter tank top, her hair twisted up on her head. She had on a handwritten name badge and was very studiously following around one of our waitresses observing and helping.

  “What do you mean?” Thomas frowned as he loaded racks of clean glasses behind the bar. “She needed a job and I had to fire Rebecca last week for no-showing two days in a row.”

  “This is not a girl who needs a job,” I told him. “She’s filthy rich.”

  Thomas just shrugged. “She said she needs a job. So she must need a job.”

  Sometimes the attitude of locals was really annoying. That matter-of-fact approach was exactly how I was. I knew that. But coming from someone else it was really fucking irritating. “She and I have hooked up.” I wasn’t sure how else to make it clear this was a bad idea.

  He paused and laughed. Thomas was in his forties, brawny, tattooed. He was married with six kids. “Jordan, you think I don’t know that? It’s all my wife and her book club can talk about. Everyone in town knows you picked up the runaway bride and hid her somewhere for a couple of days until her dad sniffed you out.”

  “He didn’t sniff us out.” That sounded so fucking dramatic and made me seem like I was afraid of that little prick. “Bella went back to her parents. That’s not exactly scandalous.”

  “Then why do you care if she works here?”

  Shit. He had trapped me. “I just don’t want anyone to feel awkward.”

  “Because that concerned you before you had sex with Jodi? Or Sara? Or that tourist girl who spent the next five days sitting here at the bar for six hours a night pining for your dumb ass?”

  He had a point. “Maybe I’m trying to learn from my mistakes.” That might be a stretch. Mainly I didn’t want Bella there because she was like pure, sweet temptation and I wasn’t sure I could be rational around her. I had already proven I sucked at it.

  “Listen, kid, I know someday you want to buy this place from me when I retire. So just see this as an opportunity to prove to me you can handle awkward.” He gave me a long look. “And maybe keep your dick in your pants for a change.”

  I glared at him. “Dude, you have six kids. I could say the same to you.”

  That made Thomas laugh. “Fair enough.”

  Bella also laughed from somewhere to the right of me. I knew it was her. I would recognize her voice anywhere. I watched her bending over to fill the water glass of a customer and I felt my dick harden. Her ass was a thing of beauty in those pants. It had been a week since I had seen her, and every night I had spent in bed thinking about how she had felt coming apart beneath me, my cock buried deep inside her. It made for some restless sweaty nights. I had thought about calling or texting her, but what the hell was there to say?

  She had come in here tonight and given me a breezy, “Hi,” before going about her busine
ss.

  I was pissed off. This was my place. Not hers. She had already ruined the cabin for me. I’d never be able to go there again without remembering holding her in my arms. And the caboose was done. I’d never set foot in there again because it reeked of Bella to me. Now she was ruining my workplace too, and that was bullshit.

  When she came up to the bar to fill a drink order, I was kind of a dick. “There really wasn’t any other bar in town for you to work at?” I asked. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you missed me.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Your ego continues to amaze me. This was seriously the only place hiring. It’s the height of the summer season. Everyone already has staff. Trust me, I don’t want to hang out with you either.”

  “That’s a little insulting.” I shoved a beer bottle and two iced teas toward her.

  She started putting the drinks on her tray. “What does that even mean? Look, can we just be friends? I’m going to be here until the fall at least, so we need to be civil.”

  “I can be civil. But I’m not sure I can be friends.” It was a dickhead thing to say, but it was true. Talking to my mother had opened me up to thinking about my behavior and what I wanted moving forward. I wanted more from Bella. It was as clear as the nose on my fucking face. I wanted to date her.

  Also, I hadn’t expected to see Bella anytime soon.

  But she was here, in front of me, beautiful and waitressing in my bar, and I hated it for the simple fact that I wanted to be with her.

  Only that wasn’t going to happen.

  Her nostrils flared. She picked up the tray. “Fine. Be that way. I was just trying to be nice anyway.”

  Bella had gotten a little better at the burn. I had to admit, I was kind of kicked in the dick by that, even though I suspected she was just trying to get to me. “You’re better at that than I am.”

  The corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk. “True, that.”

  She lifted her tray and walked away and I hated myself.

  Bella was the first girl in just about forever I actually cared about, and every move I made was completely the wrong one.

  The problem with never being in relationships was that now I might actually want one and I had no clue how to go about it.

  When Thomas came behind the bar again I asked him, “So, do you think I have a shot?”

  I didn’t explain any further. He knew exactly what I was talking about.

  He clapped me on the back while I wiped the beer gutter. “You’d have better odds playing the lottery, kid.”

  Figured. I rolled my eyes and tried not to take it personally. “That’s what I thought,” I told him. “Thanks for confirming.”

  “No problem.” He walked off whistling.

  That didn’t explain why I followed her outside when she went on her break. It was dark out there and I was worried about where she was going. Or at least that’s what I told myself. It was only half the truth. I wanted to talk to her. About what, I had no idea. I just couldn’t get her out of my head.

  “What are you doing?” I asked her, stepping out the back door to where the Dumpster was. She was standing there looking at her phone.

  She jumped. “You scared me.”

  “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself. It’s ten o’clock at night.”

  “I know what time it is. I just wanted a breath of fresh air.”

  “By the Dumpster?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Now who is stalking who?”

  That irritated me. “I never said stalking. I said you must miss me.”

  “Well, clearly you miss me too.”

  I did. “Because I don’t want you to get mugged or raped in a parking lot?” Oh my God, what the hell was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just admit that I cared about her?

  “I’m texting Sophie. She’s supposed to be picking me up after work. We’re sharing a car until I can go back to Boston and get mine.”

  “Why are you staying here?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me. It was going to be sweet torture. “If you don’t mind me asking?”

  The look she gave me was long and searching. I thought she was going to say something haughty, but instead she shrugged. “I needed a change of scenery. I don’t have an apartment or a job in Boston, so I’m here debating my next move.”

  I nodded. I could totally understand that. “I can give you a ride home if you want.”

  But she just smiled. “No, thank you.”

  * * *

  —

  “How was it?” Sophie asked when she picked me up.

  Contrary to Christian’s apparent opinion of me, I was a hard worker. I had been a server in college because while my parents were happy to pay my tuition, my father thought I could learn valuable lessons from having to earn my spending money. I had always enjoyed it. Customers like me. I’m friendly without being flirty and I never get impatient. I was born to serve, in the ultimate of ironies.

  “It was good. I mean, I don’t intend to do this forever, but I really think I’m going to enjoy it for the rest of the summer. I’m hoping to make some friends, since I’m going to be a permanent resident.”

  Sophie drove like a grandma. She looked both ways like four times before pulling out of the parking lot. She was only in Camden for two more days then she was returning to Cambridge. I was going to miss her company. My parents had returned to Boston and I knew I was going to be lonely. I’m social by nature. That’s why I had figured retail or waitressing would be a good fit for me. I need people around.

  “I can’t believe you got Bradley to cough up a house for you. You have mad skills, Bel.”

  Except in bed. I wrinkled my nose. I had spent the last week fixating on sex with Christian and wondering if it had been an anomaly, my emotions so high I was able to fully let go, or if I would be able to move forward and have quality sexual relationships. Maybe it was just Christian and me. Maybe it was just a moment in time. Either of those would be horrible frankly, because then I was doomed to a life of lame sex.

  “That wasn’t mad skills,” I told her, holding my purse in my lap and scouring the parking lot for Christian’s car. He still had two more hours on his shift, which is why his offering me a ride made no sense. I couldn’t figure him out. I shouldn’t even care. He was a liar and a cheat. “I dangled Bradley’s future political career in front of him.”

  “That’s ridiculous. How many men in politics have sexual scandals in their past or their present? Dozens.”

  I shrugged. “So what? The threat worked. By the way, why didn’t you tell me Cain and Ali dated?”

  Now it was her turn to shrug as she drove. “I don’t know. It never came up. Why would I want to talk about Ali?”

  “Because that’s what my friends do. We talk about everything over and over, and fixate, and dissect it. If I had been in your shoes I would have talked to you about it.” Then I wouldn’t have been blindsided by Christian. I would have known he was a dirtbag who had slept with his brother’s girlfriend.

  “I don’t know what to tell you. It felt irrelevant to me at the time. My intention was only to have sex with Cain, not develop a relationship with him.”

  Everything Sophie said was so damn logical. “Well. I wouldn’t have liked Christian so much if I had known.”

  Sophie was silent for a second, then she said quietly, “That’s very revealing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She glanced over at me. “You like him.”

  “Well…I don’t anymore. I can’t because he’s gross.” She was confusing me.

  “He didn’t lie to you. Or to anyone. He might not have shown the best judgment or restraint, but he didn’t cheat with Ali. And I imagine he regrets it profoundly.”

  “Are you on his side?” I asked, annoyed. “Shouldn’t you be on Cain’s side?”

&n
bsp; “Cain hasn’t said a word to me in two weeks.”

  That made me feel bad. “I’m sorry, Soph. I really am.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for me. You’re the one who ran out of the church in your wedding gown because your fiancé is an asshole.”

  That made me laugh. “We’re a mess.”

  But her words made me think. A lot. I turned it around and around in my head. I could easily picture Ali lying and manipulating Christian. I had heard and seen his regret and guilt for his falling-out with his brother.

  And I knew he wasn’t a complete dirtbag. I saw what a fantastic father he was. Maybe I should stop projecting my fear over being unable to read people (hello, Bradley) onto Christian and trust that he was actually forthright with me.

  Or I could sit on the couch with Bella and a pint of ice cream, which is exactly what I did.

  * * *

  —

  Most nights I could feel Christian’s eyes on me. He watched me like we had unfinished business, which to my mind, we shouldn’t have. Though we might, because Sophie was right. I had liked Christian, and I could admit I wanted to still like him. Maybe I had been too hasty, too judgmental. Sophie had forgiven Cain. He had shown up at her apartment in Cambridge and they were talking, seeing each other on the weekends when he had a day pass from rehab.

  Sophie was the smart one. Maybe I should take a page from her book.

  I had no idea what Christian was thinking though because he never said anything. We had casual conversation. He said things like, “How is your sister? I heard Cain went and visited her.”

  Or, “You’re really good at this job, Bella. You’re a pretty impressive person, do you know that?”

  It mattered more than it should.

  I tried to be friends with him, despite his insistence we couldn’t have that kind of relationship. The more I saw him, heard him, thought about the kind of man he was, I realized my snap judgment hadn’t been fair. Did I think it was awesome he had hooked up with Ali? No. But it wasn’t on the same level as what Bradley had done.

  I wanted to be friends with Christian because I wanted to have positive memories of him. Of us. Of that moment when he had well and truly been there for me. How many guys would pick up a woman they barely know at the church as she fled her wedding? There had been no guarantee I would have sex with him. He had to have known he might have been saddled with a sobbing mess all night. Yet he had been, well, a friend. And I wanted that again, even if it couldn’t be the same. It felt like he was trying too, despite his words my first night on the job. It wasn’t as awkward as it could have been.