Changed

by Alicia Renee Kline

  “No.”

  “Yes, you do. I crossed some stupid boundary that you’ve set for me and it pissed you off. Something random, something unfair and you’re completely blowing it out of proportion. I bet Chris has met her. Maybe even Blake. I bet you don’t shield your precious daughter from the rest of your friends. Just me.”

  “You’re different, Gracie.”

  “Hell yes I’m different.”

  “It’s not fair to Emma. I’m not going to start parading women in front of her like a sex starved teenager. She doesn’t need to see that. I’m her dad.”

  “Whatever. So it’s better to sneak around behind her back? So you don’t look like the bad guy here? If what you’ve told me is true, she’s likely already privy to the fact that your wife has a boyfriend. That she had a boyfriend even before she ended things with you.”

  Will rose to his feet. I backed away from him slightly, knowing I’d gone too far, yet said what I’d needed to.

  “She’s not my fucking wife,” he reminded me.

  “No, you just wish she still was.”

  He winced, but didn’t deny.

  I continued.

  “She’s not coming back to you. No matter how much you want her to. And I’m sorry that I’m a pitiful substitute for her. I’m sorry that I’m not good enough for you to acknowledge. I’m sorry that I’m not important enough to you for you to let me in.”

  “I never said that. I never told you any of those things.”

  “No, but your actions do. And it’s okay; I get it. This is why I don’t do relationships. Because eventually, everyone ends up feeling like shit. Look, we got there already and we’re not even dating. All I am is a good lay.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Fine. All I am is an awful lay. There. Are you happy now?”

  “Gracie.”

  “I came home from work today and flat ironed my hair for you. Do you know how long that took? And I come over here only to get yelled at for buying soap. You can’t have it both ways, Will. You can’t tell me that we are nothing in one breath and then expect me to obey your every command in the next. I don’t operate like that.”

  I turned my back to him, praying for a boatload of composure to wash over me. It didn’t happen before he grabbed my arm and spun me around. I shrugged off his touch, but remained facing him.

  “You’re a good father, Will. Maybe the best ever. And it’s a noble cause to want to protect your daughter from the harsh realities in life like people falling out of love, but did you ever consider me? Did you ever stop to think about me?”

  His silence was as good as a dissenting response.

  A smile of resignation slid across my face. “I know exactly where I fit in. And it’s not anywhere close to here.”

  “Gracie.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  I wanted to press my hands over my ears and drown out the sound of his voice wrapping around my name. Hell, I wanted to run down to the courthouse and legally change my name so I wouldn’t have to remember the way I felt when he said it. The way those two syllables slid from his lips like the most beautiful poetry, how they made the hair stand up on the back of my neck because he was addressing me, only me.

  “I can’t do this,” I admitted.

  It was true, so very true. I couldn’t. It wasn’t about my hair, soap, or even Emma. I wanted more, things that he wasn’t able to give.

  Even though my feet felt like lead, I put one in front of the other and headed towards his door. For a second, I envisioned him crumbling to the ground, grabbing my feet at the ankles and begging me to stay. Though he didn’t do that, he did trail behind me.

  My palm flattened against the front door, I lowered my forehead to it and closed my eyes. He was so close to me, I could feel his breath against my neck, giving me goose bumps that weren’t entirely unpleasant. I allowed myself a moment to memorize how it felt, how warm his presence was, how he smelled, how I was certain he still tasted.

  Instead of melting into him like I so wanted, I balled my hand into a fist so tight my nails dug into my flesh. He saw.

  “Gracie, please.”

  I shook my head. I could nearly hear his disappointment. I could definitely feel my own radiating from my core.

  We’d fought before. Stupid arguments that were of little consequence. Possibly because we’d found that make up sex was a totally satisfying experience all its own. And when we weren’t feeling particularly aroused, we’d settle things with a beer and a good laugh.

  But we both knew that this time was different. There was no point in salvaging whatever it was if we were going to keep coming back to the same stumbling block. He wasn’t going to change and neither was I. And without one of us relenting, we were just using each other.

  Will wanted to argue me down. I could see it in his eyes when I turned to him before I left. There was so much left unsaid, but he wasn’t about to share. It was probably for the best.

  Instead, he placed his hands on either side of my face. It felt like he was looking into my soul. I wasn’t sure that he liked what he saw. But I voiced it anyway.

  “You’re hurting me, Will.”

  His body went rigid. His fingers dropped from my jawline.

  I opened the door and stared out into the darkness.

  And that’s how I walked away, leaving him there with the realization that he had done what he swore he’d never do.

  I left the door open, mainly because I needed to get the hell back to my car as soon as physically possible, but it was also a nice touch in retrospect. I’ll never know how long it took for him to close it behind me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “We broke up,” I said without introduction as soon as the phone was answered.

  “You weren’t dating,” Doug observed correctly.

  “Well, there’s that minor detail. But tell that to my brain, which disagrees entirely. And to my heart, which feels like it’s breaking.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

  “Me, too. Remind me again why I thought this was a good idea. Refresh my memory as to why I let this be more than just a one night fling.”

  “Because you care about him. Because he’s a good guy who’s just a little confused as to what he wants.”

  “He knows exactly what he doesn’t want. Namely me.”

  “Are you drunk?”

  I stared at the wine glass in my hand, then over to the half-empty bottle on my nightstand. “Not yet,” I assessed, “but with any luck, I will be soon.”

  After I’d fled from Will’s, I came home straight to my bedroom, making a pit stop at the fridge on my way in to grab my supplies. If after I drained the first bottle, I still wasn’t blitzed out of my mind enough to not feel liquid numbness, I had a backup on call. I certainly hoped it didn’t come to that. I’d made myself comfortable here, stripping off my heels and jeans in favor of sweats and a tee.

  So that was how I found myself sprawled on my bed, drink in hand, Will’s t-shirt crumpled up beside me. For a moment, I’d considered putting it on in lieu of my own shirt, wrapping myself in something of his and trying to ease my pain. Then I’d realized that if I did that, my smell would mix with his and I’d lose the whole purpose of having it anyway.

  After a couple of glasses went down the hatch, I’d picked up my cell and dialed Doug. I needed to talk, to vent, and since he was the only one who knew, that made him my only option. Sure, it would have been more comfortable to call up Lauren, but I would have difficulty giving her a cryptic explanation as to why I was having a nervous breakdown. Doug it was. Fortunately, he’d had plenty of practice refereeing his daughter’s epic love battles.

  “Do you want me to come up?” he offered.

  Warmth filled my veins as I imagined him dropping everything in Indy and driving two hours north on a Friday night, just to sit beside me as I worked through whatever this strange sensation of loss was. No doubt his suggestion was genuine, that if I asked him to, he’d not laugh and
tell me he’d been kidding. He would come, because that’s who he was.

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “Gracie,” he began. It didn’t bother me when he spoke my name, but I cut him off just the same.

  “I’m fine,” I repeated with almost enough conviction that I damn near believed myself.

  “So what happened? I thought he was cool with the moving to Fort Wayne thing. Not even a week later, he’s kicked you to the curb?”

  I launched into a spirited recap of the meeting with Emma, then the fight with Will, complete with me doing different voices for each player in the conversation. Maybe I was a bit more tipsy than I gave myself credit for. Doug was quiet for a moment after I announced that I was done, and I wondered if he’d put the phone down and excused himself to the garage in order to laugh at me again.

  “Are you still there?” I asked finally.

  “I love you, Gracie,” he said in response.

  “Glad to know that someone does.”

  “Lots of people do.”

  “I need a list. Come on, build me up here, Doug.”

  “Lauren,” he said without hesitation.

  “Bingo.”

  “Blake, possibly.”

  “She did trust me with her big secret before she told anyone else. Then she hired me and agreed to pay me way too much money. I’ll allow it. Next?”

  There was a pause. “You seem to get along well with both Matthew and Chris,” he hedged. “I’m sure either one of them would do anything for you.”

  “That’s a cop out and you know it. The only reason I mean anything to either one of them is because they’re married to Lauren and Blake respectively.”

  “Fine,” he huffed. “Your parents?”

  That elicited a snort. “Now you’re just grasping at straws.”

  “They gave you life.”

  “And migraines. And if everything was so hunky-dory with either one of them, don’t you think I’d be calling them right now instead of you?”

  “Point well taken.”

  “Game over. I’ve got exactly three people in my corner. Bully for me. Do you know who didn’t get mentioned? I’ll tell you. Will. Will is not on that list because - well, because he doesn’t love me.”

  Because I didn’t cry, there were no tears marking that statement for emphasis. But that didn’t mean that there wasn’t a crack in my voice that resembled a strangled goose.

  “Will doesn’t love me,” I whispered.

  That in and of itself was reason enough for my glass to be refilled. I drank it down without taking a breath, feeling a massive head rush when I did so. This was only aided by the fact that I’d spent time on my hair rather than actually eating something for dinner before I’d gone over to our rendezvous point. Yeah, I might possibly pass out prior to the need for my second bottle. And that was cool with me.

  “We’re going to be here for a while, aren’t we?” Doug questioned.

  “Yep. Grab a beer -”

  I didn’t have any free hands, what with the phone and my wine, or I would have slammed my own palm over my mouth in embarrassment. I wasn’t inebriated enough to forget that, above all, Doug Jefferies did not drink and the reasoning behind that decision.

  As usual, he was super forgiving. “I’ll substitute a pot of coffee, thanks.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t mention it. You’re having a moment.”

  “Maybe that’s why we didn’t work out. Because I’m a horrible person. I’m selfish and stupid and I say things that are uncouth and I’m too young and I think that the answer to all my problems is alcohol when alcohol is what got me here in the first place.”

  “Remember to breathe.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I try.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Would you not if I told you no?”

  “Nah, probably not. If you were thirty-six, would you date me?”

  “I don’t think we should go there.”

  “No, I mean if you were thirty-six and I wasn’t your daughter’s best friend, and you weren’t married, and you just saw me at a coffee shop or in the frozen foods section of the grocery store, would you think I was hot?”

  “No comment.”

  “Well, that’s a glowing recommendation. Gee, thanks.”

  “Gracie, I don’t think that the problem here is that Will thinks you’re hideous.”

  “Then what is the problem? I must not hold a candle to Stephanie if she’s still an issue. How can he still want her when her big idea was to run off with some other guy? Why would he tell me that he still loved her? Why would he not say anything when I accused him of still wanting to be married to her? Why would he be mad at me for innocently running into his daughter?”

  “Whoa, there. Let’s slow down.”

  “I can’t. If I slow down, I might fall asleep.”

  “Perhaps that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

  “Yes it would be. I’m scared to death of what I’ll dream about.”

  “Likely nothing.”

  “Nope. Not drunk enough yet.”

  “Just make sure that you don’t drink enough to not wake up ever.”

  “Why? Only three people would notice.”

  “Gracie.”

  “Doug.”

  “This is not the end of the world. I know that it feels bad right now, but you’ll get over it. Maybe all you need is a little bit of time, a little bit of distance for cooler heads to prevail. You’ll see that you’re overreacting, and he’ll see the same thing.”

  “Says the man who fell in love thirty years ago and never had to go through this shit.”

  “No, my wife only died.”

  Fuck. I was really doing horribly with the sensitivity stuff here. But me being me, I tried to pull myself out of the hole I’d just dug for myself.

  “What I mean is,” I said, over-enunciating everything because my mouth now felt about ten sizes too large for my face, “that when Abby died, it was easy to still be in love with her because you were still in that honeymoon phase. You’d just had a baby together, and there were no hard feelings or bitterness or resentment lingering. It’s like your relationship just got frozen in that wonderful, perfect happy place.”

  I paused so that he could comment, but the line remained silent. I continued on.

  “Will had all of that in the beginning I’m sure, but it really sounded kind of awful toward the end. I mean, doesn’t it have to be terrible in order for someone to want out?”

  “Will wasn’t the one who wanted out. Or so you’ve said.”

  “But if Stephanie wanted out, I’m sure she wasn’t being all sparkly and magical towards him any more. If she was sleeping around on him, he had to have known something was going on.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “He’s a cop. He solves crimes.”

  “Indirectly.”

  “He’s not an idiot, is what I mean.”

  “When you’re in love, you have blinders on.”

  “He should hate her. He should fucking hate her. Because she cheated on him. She hurt him. And she made him the way he is now. She made him hurt me. God, I fucking hate her enough for the both of us.”

  “That’s not entirely fair, either. You’re absolving him of all guilt because you’re biased. Maybe he contributed to the demise of their marriage more than you’re thinking he did. Perhaps he was just as aloof, as guarded, around her.”

  “I doubt it. No one would marry a Mr. Broody.”

  “No, but you fell in love with one.”

  My mouth opened and closed, but I didn’t have an argument for that one. I attempted to force a denial from my lips, but nothing came.

  “Love sucks,” I growled instead.

  “Sometimes.”

  “How in the world did I end up messed up in this, then?”

  “Well, isn’t that the million dollar question?”

  “I promised him that I was cool with this. I preten
ded like he didn’t matter, and maybe he saw through that. I lied to him, and to myself. If anyone’s the idiot here, it’s me.”

  “No one’s an idiot for having feelings.”

  “But Doug, he was straight with me from day one about what he wanted out of this. I’m the one that let myself dream, to imagine things that weren’t ever really there.”

  “So you imagined Indianapolis?”

  “Of course not.”

  “And did he or did he not play right into your little fantasy?”

  “Sure we settled into domesticity.”

  “And was he acting that whole time? Cooking dinner with you, going to the grocery store with you, holding your bags when you went shopping? Curling up with you in bed every night? If he felt nothing for you during all that time, then he is the master of the ruse.”

  “I know what I saw tonight, Doug. He doesn’t want those things. Maybe he gave them to me because the sex was good, but he is adamant that he doesn’t want to let me in. He doesn’t want a true relationship with me, or possibly with anyone else ever again. Sure, he wants things out of me, like for me to not become invested in his personal life, but those are things that I’m not willing to give.”

  “Then you were right to end whatever it was that you two were doing.”

  The bluntness of his words shocked me. I’d called wanting him to comfort me. I’d needed him to soothe the searing pain that I felt from head to toe. I’d expected him to baby me, to tell me how smart and beautiful I was and that there were plenty of other guys who would take notice of that. What I hadn’t bargained for was for Doug to flat out announce I was right in what I’d done.

  Leaving sure didn’t feel like the best option available - at least now. It felt more like running away from the problem instead of tackling it head on. I’d fully expected him to keep in line with the original tone of his advice - to back off for a moment and then go back in and fight for what it was that I wanted.

  But what was the point of waging a battle if you knew you would never win the war?

  “You’re right. It’s hopeless,” I found myself saying. The words sounded like they came from somewhere else. Maybe I was a puppet and Doug had reached through the phone lines to stick his hand up my back.