by Amy Brent
The smell of them wafted over to me. I grinned at him, reaching out to stroke one of the soft petals. “Steven,” I said, “these are gorgeous. You didn’t have to—”
“Was that Andrew you were talking to?” Steven asked flatly.
I blinked.
I was just noticing the hardness of his eyes and the tightness in his jaw. He was angry.
“Oh,” I said, realizing how bad things must have looked on his end. I wondered what part of the conversation he had walked in on. Had I been laughing, or giggling? Had he misconstrued the whole thing? “Yes, it was, I was calling him to see if he had heard from you. I was getting worried. I hadn’t heard from you since the party.” I trailed off. Nothing I was saying was getting rid of the anger in his eyes. “Steven?”
Steven tossed the flowers down on my desk. One of the petals fell from its place and landed on top of the phone. Steven turned around, his shoulders hunched, and made for the door.
“Steven!” I called, racing around the edge of the desk and reaching out to catch his arm. He yanked himself out of my grip and continued walking.
I stopped, staring after him as he tore the door open and vanished from view.
My heart felt like it had fallen into my stomach. Everyone in the office was staring at me. I could see pity in the eyes of most of the women. They knew what was happening. They knew my heart was broken. The men seemed more confused than anything else, and they kept glancing at the door Steven had left through.
Then another door opened behind me.
“Allie Wright,” James Lipton called from behind me, “would you join me in my office for a moment?”
I couldn’t do this right now. Sitting down with James was too much. I fought with myself not to cry. I had to keep it together for a little while longer, and then I could be free to cry until there were no more tears left.
I turned to James, staring at the floor, and shuffled into his office. He closed the door behind me and gestured for me to sit in the guest chair in front of his desk. I did as I was told and sat with my hands resting in my lap. James sat in his chair and leaned forward on his desk. I didn’t know what was coming. I didn’t care.
“Allie, you know you’re not allowed to have visitors during work hours. That rule is in place to avoid situations like this. We don’t need our receptionist making a scene in the middle of the workday. It’s a distraction.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded.
“You know I like you, Allie. I don’t want to have these conversations with you. You’re one of my favorites. I trust that going forward you will know better than to entertain male company, or any company for that matter, at your desk?” James leaned forward and peered up at my face.
He seemed oblivious to my tears. It was either that, or he didn’t care. I hated him more than ever. “I understand,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Very good,” James said, straightening up in his chair and shifting his pencils and papers on his desk into neat rows. “You may go.”
I stood up and hurried to the door. When my hand was on the handle, James spoke my name. I paused, not turning back to him. “You look very nice today, by the way, Allie,” he said.
I opened the door and left, letting it fall closed behind me. After I returned to my desk, I gathered my things and left the office. I didn’t care what James thought of me leaving an hour early. Or if anyone else in the place had a problem with it. I needed to get out of there. To escape all the prying eyes. To be somewhere I was free to let it all out, to cry, to grieve.
It was over. Steven hated me.
Chapter 27
Steven
I was seething. Fuck them both for continuing to lie to me. Fuck them for screwing me around like I was some sort of plaything for them to use for their own entertainment.
I was sitting in my car outside my house. Already, I had called Andrew three times, and he hadn’t picked up. I called him again and waited, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the steering wheel.
Finally, Andrew answered. “Hey bro, relax with the phone calls, will you? I’m busy over here. You’ve had the time to call me four times in the last twenty minutes. That better mean you had the time to call poor Allie back, you wimp.”
“Screw you, Andrew,” I snarled. “You know, it’s pretty fucked up that you were talking to my girl.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I heard her talking to you on the phone an hour ago.”
“Dude,” Andrew said, anger coloring his voice. “Let’s get a couple things straight, here. First off, Allie is not ‘your girl.’ Want to know why? Because she’s single. She’s single because you’re a pussy who has his head buried so far up his ass you can’t even tell which way is North anymore. Second, I’m allowed to talk to Allie. She called me because she was worried about you. She’s been calling you for days, and you haven’t had the decency to call her back. Then, you have the nerve to call her your girl? For fuck sake, man. Stop being such an ass.”
All the rage burning inside me suddenly deflated like an old balloon. “Hang on, you guys weren’t—”
“We weren’t doing whatever it is you think we were doing. We’re friends. That’s it. She loves you, Steven. And you know what? For the life of me, I can’t quite figure out why. You’re treating her like dirt. Sure, she lied about something that was a big deal. But you know what, it’s not your place to determine whether that was the right call or not. It was her call to make. You better find her and apologize, or she’s going to realize she’s better off without you.”
Andrew hung up.
I was left sitting in my car feeling like a complete moron. Why did I consistently overreact? Why was I so incapable of controlling myself when it came to anything Allie related?
I knew what I had to do: tell her I was sorry. I had to beg for forgiveness. Putting the car in drive, I raced to her house, hoping I would catch her as she got home from work.
When I pulled up in front of her place, I noticed immediately that her car wasn’t there. I still parked and rushed up the steps to buzz her apartment. There was no answer. I slapped the brick wall and let out a frustrated shout.
Then, feeling like the weight of the world was on my shoulders, I went back to my car. Pulling away, I sped to the only place I could drown my sorrows.
Dante’s.
I spotted Chance’s car in the parking lot behind the bar. Good. I needed the company tonight. Making my way inside, I ignored the flirty smiles from the coat check girl and a couple of the waitresses. I headed straight to the bar where I knew I would find my friend.
When I saw Chance, I noted that he was talking to a girl. I didn’t want to ruin his chances with her, so I hung back for a minute. The bartender saw me and recognized me, then mouthed the word “beer.” I nodded and watched as he poured me what was on tap. He passed me the iced glass, and I sipped the foam from the top, waiting for something to happen with Chance and this new stranger.
As I watched, I realized she looked familiar. Her hair was long and dark and pulled back in a voluminous curly ponytail. She had a narrow waist and curvy hips that looked even curvier as she sat perched on the bar stool.
Then I recognized the boots she was wearing and the hoop earrings that were dangling from her ears.
I slammed my beer on the bar and marched over.
Chance spotted me coming. His face lit up in a smile. “Hey buddy,” he called. “Fancy seeing you here!”
I ignored him and planted myself beside Allie. She had been sipping on a drink of some sort; it was pink and filled with berries and bubbles. She looked up at me with her lips still sealed over the straw. Her eyes widened.
“So you’re fucking Chance now, too?” I growled.
“Whoa, dude,” Chance said, getting to his feet and holding his hands up. “This is Allie and me you’re talking about. We were just catching up—”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” I snapped, not looking at him.
I kept my
gaze on Allie. I watched the way she registered what I was saying. Her wide eyes narrowed. She swallowed the mouthful of her drink. Then she slid off her stool, took a step toward me, and surprised me by jabbing her finger into my chest.
“How dare you,” she spat. “I haven’t done anything wrong. Chance is your best friend. Do you really think he would do something like that to you? And you believe that I would? That’s fucked up, Steven. That’s really fucked up. No, correction, you’re really fucked up.”
“You know what’s fucked up, Allie? You hiding such a big secret from me for ten God damn years. Ten years! All through high school, and college, and starting our careers. We went through everything together. And the whole time you were keeping it under wraps that you fucked my brother. That’s what’s fucked up.”
Suddenly, another girl arrived. She slid in between Allie and me and took Allie’s arm. It took me a moment to recognize Melissa. It had been a while since I had seen her, and her hair was shorter now. She looked back and forth between her sister and me. “What’s going on, you guys?” Melissa asked, her eyebrows drawn together with concern.
“Oh, big sister Melissa here to save the day,” I said under my breath.
“Shut up, Steven,” Allie said before turning to her sister. “I’m sorry, we need to leave.”
“What? We just got here. This is my one night of freedom,” Melissa complained.
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t know Steven was going to be here and be so angry,” she said as if I wasn’t standing right in front of them.
“I’m right here,” I said, crossing my arms.
“I don’t care,” Allie said, grabbing her sister by the wrist. “Have a nice night Chance. Sorry about whatever the hell this was.” She gestured at me.
“Oh, please,” I said as the two girls turned and left. They didn’t look back, but I stared after them as they went. Then I sank onto the barstool Allie had just vacated. The bartender passed me the beer that I had left at the other end of the bar. I raised it in the air in a toast as a way of thanking him, then pressed the glass to my lips and finished it in four gulps.
“What the hell, Steven?” Chance asked.
I rolled my shoulders and ordered another beer. “What?”
“You really think I would do that to you? You think I would hit on Allie?”
“I don’t know what I think anymore,” I said.
“Well, you’d better figure it out. How you treated Allie and her sister—that was fucked up. That was really fucked up.” Chance tossed a twenty-dollar bill down on the bar then looked me over. “Don’t stay here too long. You should go home.”
“Yeah, whatever,” I said, waving him away.
Chance shook his head and left.
I was alone at the bar. The bartender was shitty company and was too busy to keep me distracted from my wandering thoughts of Allie. I couldn’t stop thinking of the way she had looked at me when I accused her of fucking Chance. That wasn’t the look someone gave you when you found them out. That was how someone looked at you when you hurt them.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes closed. I couldn’t get a handle on all this pent-up anger. I had nowhere to put it. Everything made me angry. Every time I saw Allie, I thought of her and Andrew. Then I couldn’t stop thinking about her with other guys. Guys like Chance.
I was a fool.
Chance would never do anything like that to me. He was a stand-up guy. Not to mention, he and Allie had been friends for a long time. If anything were going to happen between them, it would have happened a long time ago.
I ordered another beer and two shots of tequila.
Chapter 28
Allie
I stood from my chair and straightened my skirt. It was the end of the workday, and I was exhausted. I hadn’t slept at all the previous night. The whole evening I’d been crying onto Melissa’s shoulder. I felt bad for keeping her up all night, but she had insisted on staying with me. I was a mess. I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch the previous day. Before leaving for work, I barely managed to shower and hadn’t bothered putting on any makeup. My hair went up in a bun when it was still wet. Minimum effort.
I made my way outside and fished around in the bottom of my purse for my car keys. I somehow managed to lose them in the dark abyss of my bag on a near-daily basis. My fingers fumbled over lip gloss, perfume, tissues, tampons, and a compact mirror before they finally grabbed hold of the lanyard attached to my keys. I pulled them out when I reached my car, but they got tangled around something.
I let out a frustrated groan and dropped my purse to the ground. I bent over and started trying to untangle the mess of junk. When I straightened, someone was standing beside me.
I jumped back with a yelp, my hand over my chest.
“Steven?” I hissed when I met his eyes. My heart was racing a mile a minute. “You scared me to death. What are you doing here?”
Steven looked at his feet. “I, uh.”
“Come to accuse me of having sex with more people? My boss, maybe? You know how much I like him.”
“No,” Steven said, shaking his head and looking everywhere but at me. “I came to apologize for how I acted last night. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
I stared up at him. Was he serious? “You are?” I asked.
“Yes. And I’d like to take you to dinner tonight—if you’re willing to sit down with me, of course. I understand if you aren’t. We need to talk.”
“Talk?” I asked. “You’re sure you don’t want another chance to yell at me? Steven, I want to fix this, but at a certain point, I can’t keep forcing something that isn’t going to happen.”
“I know,” Steven said. “Trust me. I get it. I only want to talk tonight. We both need to. Come on, what do you say?”
I searched his eyes. He seemed sincere enough. All that anger I had seen in him at Dante’s was gone. Now, standing in front of me, he was more like the Steven I knew and loved. A little bit more somber than usual. Probably because he felt guilty for the temper tantrum he had thrown the other night.
I sighed. “Okay. I’d like to talk, too. But I need to run my car home first.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Steven said, extending his hand to take my bag. I let him, and he gave me a small gracious smile. “I made reservations, and I don’t want to miss them. I’ll drive you to work on Monday if we haven’t come back to get it by then.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling a little sliver of hope building inside me.
Steven took us to a restaurant neither of us had ever been to before. It was a small place that appeared to be run by a family with an obscene number of children. The staff of twelve was comprised of a mother and father, a grandmother who specialized in the desserts on the menu, and then the nine children who all worked as servers and hosts.
It was dimly lit with candles floating at the top of mason jars filled with water, cranberries, orange slices, and greenery. Everything was rustic and homey, and the whole place smelled like cinnamon and mulled spices.
Steven led me to the back of the restaurant. It was sectioned off into small cubicles. Each little space hosted an intimate private dining area. Steven closed the curtain behind us, took my jacket, and pulled out my chair for me. I sat down, and he tucked me in. I watched him walk around the table and settle into the seat across from me. He scanned the private booth, taking note of the beautiful watercolor painting on the wall and the unique blue and white tiles in the ceiling.
“This place is pretty cool,” Steven said. “It used to be an Italian bakery. That’s where all the tiles and what-not came from.”
“It is different, that’s for sure. I’ve never seen private booths like this except for in some sushi places. Did you do a quick Google search before you picked it?” I asked, smiling involuntarily.
“Perhaps,” Steven said mischievously as he swiped his napkin from the table and draped it across his knee. I did the same.
The server arrived to fill our glasses
with ice water and offer some wine options. The wine was served with a small platter of cheeses and a variety of bread, which we nibbled on while looking over the rest of the menu to pick our meals.
Once we had ordered, Steven leaned forward with his elbows on the edge of the table. He regarded me with a calm expression and then began speaking. It was apparent to me that he had rehearsed what he wanted to say long before arriving at my work to ask me to dinner.
“Allie,” he started. “I behaved like a fool the other night and all the other times before that. First off, I never should have taken your diary. I crossed a line. Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean I have the right to know all the personal details about your life. Basically, I’m trying to tell you how sorry I am. Sorry, but still concerned.”
“Concerned about what, exactly?” I asked. I wanted to make sure I had all the details this time. I didn’t want to miss anything. Steven was giving us both a chance to really lay it all out there. I was going to take advantage of it.
“Concerned about you and Andrew. Concerned that if I let myself care now, I’m only going to get hurt later.”
