“I know. But that’s not the point, Declan. He’s happily married, and you and I are supposed to be in a relationship, one I thought was pretty solid until now. If you don’t trust me, how is this supposed to work?”
“This isn’t just about trusting you, Avery. I walked away from that friendship for you. I chose you, and the first contact he makes in damn well years, you go to him. And now you’re telling me that you’re going to be working with him? How the hell am I supposed to be okay with that? After everything he put you through, you’re still willing to pick him over me.”
I didn’t realize he would see things like that. “I’m not choosing him over you.”
“But you are. He called. You went. I think that speaks fucking volumes, don’t you?” Declan’s eyes are wild, his nostrils flared, jaw clenched in anger.
“Not for any of the reasons you think.” He’s approaching it as though it’s cut-and-dry, and while technically what he’s saying is true, the reasoning is all wrong.
I’ve known for a long time that Declan has trust and relationship issues. And in the back of my mind, I worried that this would happen, that something would trigger that insecurity. Declan is very good at self-sabotage, and I naïvely wanted to believe I would be the exception to this rule.
“That’s not the fucking point! You think you’re over him, but now you’re telling me you’re going to be spending time with him. What’s this project you’re working on? Is it a one-time thing?”
“No, probably not.” While I didn’t expect Declan to be happy, I definitely didn’t expect this.
He paces the room, shaking his head. “I know how this works, Ave. You say you’re over him and that he’s happy, but then you’ll have meetings that go late, and I’ll be wondering if it’s just a meeting or if you’re screwing him while I’m sitting here like a chump, waiting for you to come home.”
“And if it wasn’t Sam, if it was Brock or some other guy I might have gone out with once or twice, would that make a difference?”
He runs his hand roughly through his hair. “I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter because it is Sam.”
“Spark House needs this opportunity, Declan. You of all people know we need this. We lost a major opportunity when Go Green pulled their sponsorship, and this is my way of making a significant contribution and recouping some of our losses, and maybe, if we’re lucky, getting back into the good graces of the company who dropped us.”
“I know you lost the sponsor and it’s partially my fault. Everything is my fucking fault! The fact that you ended up broken is my damn fault. I was pissed off that you went out with that stupid Brock guy, and I went out and got drunk and picked up the first random who looked even remotely like you. I have to live with that for the rest of my damn life. I don’t need you throwing it in my fucking face in the form of your damn ex.”
His words settle under my skin, turning my blood to sludge. I suspected there were other reasons for Declan going out that night, but to actually hear it, and to know that the reason I was alone that morning is because of Declan’s jealousy, one he refused to acknowledge, and a monster he clearly can’t get a handle on, breaks my heart. Because it means that the end I didn’t want to see coming is here, even though I tried my hardest to keep it from happening.
“Are you saying you don’t trust me?”
“How the hell can I after this?” he seethes.
“If there isn’t any trust, Declan, there can’t be any us.”
His expression flattens. “I guess that’s it, then.”
He turns and walks out of the room. A few seconds later the front door slams shut, and I’m left wondering how so much could change in the span of one single day.
26
SHIFTING GEARS
AVERY
By the time I get up the next morning, Declan is already gone. I slept like garbage, a million unfortunate scenarios playing out in my head, along with the awareness that he’d gone somewhere, and that he wasn’t with Jerome or Mark, kept me from experiencing any kind of peace.
In the hours between our fight and this morning, I’ve had plenty of time to really think about my actions yesterday. While I still don’t believe I did anything wrong technically, I hadn’t considered how Declan would react, or how he would see it as such a betrayal. He was right to be upset, but this isn’t just about Sam. He was what sent Declan over the edge. If not this, it would have been something else eventually.
I’d planned to tell him about the meeting with Sam, and about how seeing him made me so very aware that what Declan and I had was so much better than what Sam and I ever did. That there wasn’t a comparison. That I’d been in love with him longer than I realized and was afraid to admit it.
But I didn’t get the chance and his reaction was painfully enlightening. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me and who will actively sabotage our relationship the moment he feels threatened. And that’s how Declan operates, not by any fault of his own, but that’s just how he is. He has no idea what a stable relationship looks like.
Apart from ours.
But we complicated that with sex, and now I’m afraid our friendship has been completely obliterated.
I pack a bag, throwing in a few outfits, bed wear, and any other essentials. I need to figure things out, and I can’t stay here while I do that. I leave for Spark House with a full suitcase and a heavy heart.
* * *
“I’m so sorry, Avery. Is there anything you can do to make it better? Anything we can do?” Harley gives my arm a squeeze.
“I don’t know. I get that he’s upset, but he’s blowing this whole thing out of proportion. I don’t know. I can’t change his past, and we can’t live in a bubble where there aren’t any outside influences. He just … lost it. He was completely irrational, making demands and telling me what I can and can’t do.”
London sighs, looking sad. “I’m still trying to get my head around the fact that Sam reached out and contacted you.”
“Yeah, well, half of me wishes he didn’t, because then I wouldn’t be dealing with this.” I rub a hand over my face, exhausted emotionally, mentally, and physically.
“I wish one of us had been there when you got the email so maybe we could have dealt with it as a team,” Harley says softly.
“The only thing I was thinking about was the opportunity to make up some of the revenue I’d lost us. And I get why Declan is upset, I really do, but the way he handled it was way offsides. He didn’t even try to give me the benefit of the doubt, and he sure wasn’t willing to listen. And then he dropped the bomb on me about why he hadn’t been able to drive with me to the damn event, and it all made sense.”
“I thought it was because he picked up some random at a bar,” London says, arms crossed over her chest.
“It was, but the reason he picked her up in the first place is because I went on the date with Brock the Rock and he was jealous.”
“Oh my God.” Harley slaps her hand over her mouth.
“It’s the icing on the shit cake, you know? I don’t even think he realized it was jealousy at the time, and what does that say about his ability to have a healthy relationship? We’ve been friends for years, he knows me better than anyone, and he still jumped to conclusions without giving me a chance to explain.” I rub the bridge of my nose. “I knew there would be conflict. And I get that no relationship can survive without turbulence, but if there’s anything I can count on, it’s Declan’s ability to sabotage relationships as soon as there’s the slightest threat of it getting too serious or the possibility of getting hurt, and that’s exactly what happened.”
“Maybe he needs some time to think things through.” Harley flips her pencil between her fingers, back and forth.
“Maybe.” I don’t want to believe that this is the end for us, but I also don’t know how to navigate this new path, especially since now we seem to be traveling in different directions. “He was so angry, and so ready to accuse and believe the worst.”
<
br /> “Maybe it was just the shock of it all. When was the last time you actually spoke to Sam? It’s been years,” London offers.
I blow out a breath. “I haven’t spoken to him since we broke up, so yeah, it’s been a long time. Maybe I should have handled it differently. The timing was just . . bad. I would have ignored that email, but Go Green wasn’t budging. Maybe we need a few days to cool down.”
“Why don’t you stay with us while you let the dust settle?” London suggests.
“I figured I could stay in one of the hotel rooms here. Besides, you don’t have a spare room.”
“Actually, we do now.” London taps on the arm of her chair, gaze shifting away.
“Since when?”
“Since about two weeks after the accident. I wanted to have a space in case you needed it, so we converted the office. It’s still partly an office, but it has a double bed and a dresser. And it’s yours as long as you need it.” She offers me a small, sad smile. “I know I haven’t been very open to you and Declan being together, but know that I didn’t want this to happen either. Maybe all you need is a little time and perspective.”
“Maybe.” I want to believe that she’s right, but the ache in my heart is hard to ignore.
The opportunity to create a new business partnership is overshadowed by the upheaval in my life. I don’t know if working with Sam is even worth it. Not when I’m facing this kind of heartbreak. And that’s exactly what this is. Ironic that it happens to be connected to Sam once again. Declan has made no attempt at contact even though I’ve texted him and left him several voicemails. Mark and Jerome haven’t heard from him either, which worries me.
On day four, I have to stop by the condo to grab some more of my things. I’m half hopeful, half scared that Declan will be there. I want to talk things through, but I worry that based on his silence, it’s not going to go well. London and Harley offer to come with me, for moral support, but I decline.
I need to deal with Declan without an audience, which will only get his back up even more. I don’t bother to message or call before I go, unsure if giving him a heads-up will make him run.
When I step inside the front door, I’m greeted by laughter and cheers, some of them coming from the TV, some of them not. For a moment my chest constricts, thinking that maybe the guys are here and hanging out, and that they lied to me.
Except it’s not the guys who are over. It’s some of Declan’s friends from work, including two women. Declan’s still wearing his dress shirt and dress pants, tie loosened, and the top button undone. He’s seated in the middle of the couch. A guy I’ve met a couple of times before but whose name currently escapes me takes up the spot to his left, and on the right is a woman in a pencil skirt. Her makeup is perfectly applied, lipstick still in place, and she’s drinking wine. Out of my favorite glass. She’s probably also drinking my wine if I had to guess.
All of the throw pillows are gone and the quilt I love to curl up under is also missing.
His expression shifts and goes carefully blank. An awkward silence settles around us and the rest of the unfortunate witnesses in the room.
He takes a swig from his beer and the guy to his left glances between us. The woman on his right shifts, crossing her legs so her foot is no longer at risk of touching his leg.
I raise my hand in an awkward wave. “Hey, didn’t mean to crash the party.”
He spins the bottle between his palms. “I didn’t realize you were coming back.”
“I needed to pick up a few things.”
He motions toward the hall. “Everything’s where you left it.”
I’ve never been subjected to this version of Declan, although I’ve witnessed it before, when he ran into one of the women he spent a few weeks entertaining in his bed and for whatever reason decided he was done with her. He’s icy, cold, and remote.
“Do you have a minute?” I hate how unwelcome I feel in what used to be our space.
“I’m a little busy here.” He motions to his group of friends, who all shift uncomfortably, apart from the woman on his right, who smirks a little before she schools her expression.
My stomach twists at the thought that the very polished woman beside him is going to end up in his bed tonight. Although I might take a little solace in the fact that he generally avoids sleeping with the women he works with.
Still, she’s here, taking up the space beside him, and based on the way she’s looking at me, with judgment and a lot of questions, she obviously has intentions that are less than pure. And I can’t blame her, because Declan is gorgeous, charismatic, and loyal—until he’s not, or he believes he has a reason to mistrust someone. He’s also emotionally damaged, maybe more than I realized.
I don’t bother to push because I realize it’s pointless. He’s posturing for his friends, and obviously made up his mind about what was or wasn’t happening with Sam.
I cross the room on unsteady legs, and I have to focus twice as hard so I don’t end up rolling my ankle. The throw pillows and my quilt have been tossed on my bed.
But that’s not the worst part. My suitcase lies open on the bed, one side already filled with clothes. Which means that Declan already took the initiative to start packing for me. I yank open my dresser drawers; the top one is already empty, the contents presumably in my suitcase.
I move to my closet, but it appears nothing has been touched in here. I start throwing clothes in, hangers and all. I’m so hurt and angry, I can barely breathe. I hate that he’s already started cutting me out of his life, exactly as he did with Sam all those years ago.
“Does this mean you’re moving out?” Declan leans against the doorjamb, picking at the label on his craft beer.
I stop tossing things into my suitcase so I can face him. I want to throw something at him for being so blithe. “Well, I came here hoping that we could have an adult discussion, but based on the fact that you’ve been going through my things, I’m going to go ahead and say a conversation is actually pointless.”
His stone-faced expression shifts for a moment. “I figured you’d need more than whatever you left with, so I wanted to make it easier for you, but then I realized you probably didn’t want me going through your things, so I stopped.”
“How thoughtful of you.” I don’t bother to hide my sarcasm, but there’s relief in knowing that his intention wasn’t meant to be sinister. I cross the room and get right in his space, flicking the bottle in his hand. “How many of these have you had?”
“What does it matter?”
“Because I’m hoping you’re still sober and you’ll remember this tomorrow. I came here with the intention of trying to figure this out. I should have talked to you first, before I saw Sam, and that’s on me. I know your view of relationships is skewed and that you don’t have a lot of confidence in people’s abilities to remain faithful or loyal. But you’re not even willing to talk this through. And worse, that you would assume I would cheat on you, especially with someone who had hurt me so terribly before, and then start packing my stuff for me? It’s beyond hurtful and tells me more than I’d like.”
He pokes at his cheek with his tongue. His nonchalance is feigned. His heavy swallow gives him away. “Which is what?”
“I am in love with you, Declan, which is unfortunate for me, it seems. I believed once we left this little bubble you created for us that we’d be able to find a way to navigate life together. As a couple. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, and I’m very sorry that I hurt you by talking to Sam without telling you first, but shutting me out like this isn’t going to help.” I motion to my drawers. “And this jealousy, it’s a monster. We both know that it makes people do horrible things. I cannot walk on eggshells, or compromise who I am because you don’t have control over your feelings, and you’re unable to manage them in any kind of constructive way or talk them through with me, as your partner.”
“You went to Sam within hours of him contacting you for the first time in years.” That he’s so fixated on th
is point is yet another knife in my heart.
“I can’t undo it, Declan, and I would if I could. But it wasn’t because I wanted to be with Sam or reconnect with him on a level that was anything other than business based. Whether we like it or not, he was a significant part of my life for several very pivotal years. Frankly, I needed closure and Spark House needs opportunities to grow. I knew you wouldn’t be happy about it, and I was prepared for that, but I thought we could have a discussion that would be reasonable rather than accusatory. I know you don’t want to hear this, Declan, but you need to talk to someone about this. Just like I did after my parents died, and then again after Sam.”
I turn back to my suitcase, tossing in whatever else will fit. I need to get out of here before one of us says something we regret. I have a feeling it will be Declan who does that first, given that he’s on the defensive and I’m too angry and hurt not to fight back. I zip my suitcase and heft it off the bed. It hits the floor with a heavy thud. “I sincerely hope that whatever choices you make tonight aren’t fueled by a need for unnecessary retribution.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I made a mistake. I own that.” I sigh and look at the ceiling, holding back tears. “The hardest part, Declan, is knowing how capable you are of being loyal and faithful, but you seem to need to prove the opposite to yourself to keep you safe from being hurt. You self-sabotage. I’ve watched you do it countless times, and you’re doing it again. Sleeping with one of your coworkers to get back at me for something I didn’t do isn’t going to make things better. Not for you, not for me, and certainly not for her or your job.” I wheel my suitcase across the room and Declan steps aside to let me pass. His expression is no longer full of spiteful ire, it’s just sad.
“If you want to talk this through, I’m willing, but I obviously can’t stay here. It’s not healthy for either of us. I’ll be back for the rest of my things as soon as I can arrange to have them picked up. I’ll email you to let you know when, so you can plan where you want to be when that happens.” We’ll have to talk about what’s going to happen with the condo, since I own half of it, but I’m not ready to tackle that issue yet. I leave him standing there, so many things left unsaid, and wonder if I’m destined for a life full of unfinished relationships and love that can’t ever be fully realized.
When Sparks Fly Page 23
