I walked home, giving myself plenty of time to ponder all these questions. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any better answers by the time I got back, though I did have a huge blister on my heel.
“Fuck,” I muttered, as I stepped inside my apartment. If I’d lived in a house, or didn’t have tenants, I would have slammed the door, but it was getting late and I didn’t want to be the asshole who woke anyone up. Still, it would’ve felt good, would’ve at least let a little steam off, because all I really felt was this brittle frustration that the evening had ended so poorly.
Chapter 10
Gwen
I slammed the door when I got to my place, which I knew wasn’t the most neighborly thing to do, but I didn’t care. The steam that I’d hoped to blow off by walking home had not abated; if anything, it had gotten worse because I’d just had all the more time to think about how things had gone down.
He had some nerve, didn’t he? But that’s just the sort of person he was: someone who used people, who used his charm and good looks to get what he wanted—who cares who he hurt in the process.
I knew Austin and Jill would be waiting to hear all the details about my date, but I was still fuming, so all I could do was shake my head and tell them not to ask.
“That bad?” Austin asked.
“Worse,” I said. “I can’t believe that I actually went out and spent money on a dress. That I was looking forward to this.”
“What... what happened?” Jill said. “Do you want some wine?”
“No.”
Austin held up his vape pen. “Some pot?”
“No. Well... maybe a little. That might calm me down.”
He handed the slender black device to me and I took a hit, then gave it back to him. I needed to calm down. I had walked all the way home from La Fille, because I knew I needed to burn off some of this energy. My feet were killing me now, but the pain was somewhat of a welcome distraction.
“I’m really sorry it didn’t go well,” Austin said. “I was so excited for you. We all were.”
I sat down on the couch and kicked my shoes off. “The thing was, it actually was going really well, until he started talking about the journal. And then I just kind of realized that this whole thing was just a ploy of his to try to get more information out of me.” I didn’t say anything about the other thing I had realized over dinner; I was too angry about how the evening had ended.
Jill sat next to me on the couch, a sympathetic look on her face. “And then what?”
“And then I left. After we split the bill, because there was no way in hell I was going to let him pay for me.”
“Wait,” Austin said. “You split the bill at La Fille? Like on two separate checks?”
“Why is everyone acting like that’s so unfathomable?”
“Um... because it’s La Fille. People don’t do that there.”
“Yeah, well, they do now. Not that I’ll be going back there anytime soon. Or ever again.”
“So then what happened?” Jill said.
“Nothing. That was it. I left.”
Jill and Austin looked at each other, then both looked at me.
“What?” I said.
“That’s it?” Austin raised his eyebrows. “You were having a totally fine night together, and then he asked you about the journal and you got upset and left? That sounds ridiculous. Way overreacting there, babe. Are you about to get your period?”
I stared at him. “Are you kidding me? First off, you weren’t there, so you don’t know everything that happened.”
“No—duh,” he said. “Which is why we’re asking you to tell us. And apparently you have, and it just doesn’t really make sense.”
“What part doesn’t make sense? The fact that he felt compelled to take me to this ridiculously overpriced restaurant, just so he could try to get more information from me? Isn’t it enough that I returned the journal to him in the first place? I went out of my way to get it back to him.”
“And he took you out to a nice dinner. What’s the problem? Why are you acting so offended?”
I ignored Austin and looked at Jill, who could usually be counted on to be the more rational one of the two. “You understand where I’m coming from, right?”
“Um...” She winced. “I mean, I think so. A little bit. But... it does sort of seem like an overreaction, if that’s all that happened. Like, he didn’t say anything rude or disrespectful or dickish to you. Did he? Because if so, then hell, yeah, you’re totally justified in leaving like that.”
“Well... no, he didn’t specifically say anything dickish. But the whole action of taking me out to this fancy restaurant just to ask me about this journal is dickish in and of itself—right? I mean, why couldn’t he just ask me over the phone?”
“Oh, my God, Gwen, you’re seriously blowing my mind right now, but not in a good way!” Austin said. He threw up his hands and looked over at Jill in astonishment. “I mean, am I hearing this correctly? That you had this ‘awful’ time because he took you out to this amazingly upscale restaurant and then wanted to pay the bill? What an asshole! What an awful person!”
“You’re completely missing the point,” I said, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice but failing miserably. I loved Austin and Jill both, dearly, but sometimes they just didn’t get it. This being one of those times. “His whole motive was to ask about the journal. The whole thing was a charade. He should have just asked me when I called him on the phone.”
“When did he ask you about the journal?”
“Huh?”
“Was it right away? Like, was that the first thing that came out of his mouth? Yo, bitch, tell me everything you know about the lavender journal? Was it like that?”
“He most definitely does not talk like that,” I said, trying to suppress my smile. “And... I don’t exactly remember, but no, it wasn’t the first thing.” I frowned, thinking, bits and pieces of the conversation that Drew and I had had coming back to me, the way the conversation had flowed between us, the easy way laughter had come. It had all been very nice, actually, up until the very end. “It was at the end,” I said. “We were having dessert.”
Austin pressed his lips into a thin line. “Dessert,” he said slowly, as if he had just learned a critical piece of information.
“What?” I said. “Why are you saying it like that?”
“Because obviously if you guys ordered dessert, the night had gone pretty well. You don’t order dessert on a first date if it hasn’t—trust me, I know. So you’re telling us that he waited all the way until dessert to ask you a simple question about this journal—the whole reason that you two know each other to begin with—and you lose your shit and basically have a temper tantrum?”
I opened my mouth to dispute this, but it suddenly hit me: he had a point. In fact, he might be totally right. This realization dawned slowly, as more of the past evening’s pleasant parts came to mind. I had overreacted.
“And you know what I think?” Austin continued. “I think that you are freaking out about this because you actually like this guy. If you didn’t, you would’ve just gone, enjoyed your fancy meal, and left him with the bill. You wouldn’t give two shits if he brought up something about the journal.” He widened his eyes and grinned at Jill. “It sounds like Gwen has a crush!”
My face reddened instantly. “That is not why,” I said.
“I think that’s exactly what it is, but you’re so not used to dealing with these emotions, that you’re acting out. Like a toddler.”
“Great,” I said. “So now you’re calling me a toddler.”
“It’s the only plausible explanation. If you didn’t give two shits what this guy thought either way, then you wouldn’t be taking it like this. But you’re taking the fact that he brought up the journal very personally, because your skewed way of looking at it is telling you he doesn’t actually like you—he just wanted to pry more information out of you. Why you’re telling yourself that, I’m not sure, though.”
“Maybe it’s because she’s afraid to get involved,” Jill mused. It was as if I wasn’t even in the room anymore. “You know, like self-preservation. If she acts like this she’ll drive him away and then she won’t have to take the risk of getting involved with someone she actually has feelings for.”
“I think you’re onto something,” Austin said.
“I am still right here,” I said. “Hello?”
“It makes perfect sense.” Jill nodded. “Because who was the last guy you went out with? That bike-messenger dude? What was his name?”
“Caleb.”
“Right, Caleb. He was the last guy you dated seriously.”
“If you could call it that. It wasn’t even three months. And he was kind of an asshat.”
“Exactly.” Jill and Austin exchanged triumphant glances. It wouldn’t have surprised me if they leaned over and high-fived each other. “You went out with this guy who was okay, but you didn’t really like him. He was safe, because it didn’t matter if the two of you broke up or not.”
“This proves nothing,” I said. “Because what it sounds like is you’re basically saying if I’m not madly in love with the person, then I’m just using them. Well, guess what? I don’t think I’ve ever truly been in love with anyone before.”
Austin grinned. “Until now...”
“No,” I said firmly. “I know for a fact that I am not in love with Drew, because there is no way in hell anyone could fall in love with someone they don’t even know. No way.”
“Can you just tell us one thing?” he said.
“Maybe.”
“Did you have a good time? Before the whole matter of the journal came up?”
I paused, even though I knew what my answer was going to be. I did have a good time—a really good time. It had surprised me, even. And I’d be lying if I said that hanging out with Drew again hadn’t popped into my mind over the course of our dinner.
“I did have a good time, yes.”
“Then I think that’s all we really need to know. You overreacted, for whatever reason. He didn’t do anything wrong. And you might think that we’re giving you a hard time here, but what we’re really doing is just helping you see that you screwed this one up.”
Maybe it was the pot, or maybe it was the fact that I’d had some more time to let things sink in, but it was slowly dawning on me that they were probably right. That I hadn’t handled things very well, and Drew did not deserve for the night to end like that. I sighed.
“Okay, okay, I get it. You guys have pointed out where and exactly how I messed this up. You’re true friends. Thank you. But now it’s too late to do anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s not going to want to talk to me again. I don’t blame him. Now, I just need to forget about him and move on. I did what I needed to do: I returned the journal. What happens now isn’t up to me, or really any of my concern.”
“It kind of is, though,” Jill said. “I mean, it was your uncle who had the journal. Aren’t you the least bit curious why?”
“No,” I lied. Of course I was curious, at least a little bit, but I had tried for so long to just forget about Joshua and all of his bullshit, that I wasn’t eager to start thinking about it again.
***
Eventually, I found my way into my bed, my dress in an unceremonious heap on the floor. I didn’t want to see the thing again if I didn’t have to, because it was just going to be a reminder of my bad behavior.
I lay in bed, unable to fall asleep. There were way too many feelings rushing through me, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t banish a single one of them. Loudest of all, though, was that critical voice insisting that I had acted like an immature little brat and that I should be ashamed of myself.
The thing was, I would probably never see Drew again, and that would be fine. I would continue with my life, he would go on with his, and maybe we could even forget that we had ever met each other.
After thinking this, I closed my eyes, hopeful that I would now be able to go to sleep.
For about two seconds, my mind was blank, but then a single word appeared behind my eyelids: Brandon.
I hadn’t mentioned him by name at dinner, but I had mentioned him as my cousin, the only other one in the Lillie family who had managed to get out.
I didn’t know when Drew’s sister had disappeared, but suddenly it seemed so obvious: Ashleigh must’ve known Brandon. That was how Joshua had gotten her journal.
I sat up, my heart thumping. I fumbled on my bedside table for my phone.
It was late, way too late to be calling anyone, but I felt like I had to, like there was no other choice but to do this, right now.
Chapter 11
Drew
After that disastrous evening, I sure as hell was not expecting to hear from Gwen, probably ever again. The whole thing was horribly perplexing; I’d never had a date go like that. Never had someone insist on splitting the bill, never had someone get so angry before I’d gone on to explain there wasn’t going to be an opportunity for a second date. She had, in effect, beaten me to the punch, and perhaps I deserved that; perhaps that was simply what I had coming to me, after all these years of doing that to other women.
It kind of sucked.
Okay, it really sucked.
It was an awful feeling, and for the rest of the night after Gwen had departed, I was left wondering if this was how I had made all those women before her feel. It wasn’t good, and I realized that what I had been doing was not great. Perhaps not wrong, but still... It would seem, now that I’d had a taste of my own medicine, that I didn’t really like it much at all.
So when I heard my phone ring, late into the night, I reached over and picked it up, looked at it, thinking that it might be a client with some middle-of-the-night emergency. But no. It was Gwen.
“Hello?” I said.
“I’m sorry to be calling so late. But I needed to talk to you.”
There was no anger left in her voice, just an urgency that made me think this was about something more than what had happened tonight.
“Yeah, sure, of course,” I said, sitting up and pushing the covers back. “Is this... is this something you want to do over the phone?”
“No,” she said immediately. “In person. I can meet you somewhere, or come over, or whatever.”
“Whatever’s most comfortable for you.”
“Just tell me where you live and I’ll come over.”
I gave her the address and she hung up, leaving me sitting there in bed, wondering just what was up. It looked like I was going to find out, but first I’d need to get dressed. I got out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, trying to clear the fog from my brain. Was this a dream? No, I was definitely awake, though I wasn’t exactly sure what was happening. Gwen was coming over? This person whom I had resigned myself to never seeing again?
I didn’t know how long it would take her to get here, and I ended up pacing in the living room, racking my brain to figure out what it was she had to tell me. I hoped it wasn’t to chew me out some more for tonight—that really wasn’t necessary. Was she crazy? Was she one of those women who seemed normal enough on the outside, but underneath they were just a roiling mess of psychosis?
It looked like I was about to find out, because my doorbell rang, and I trotted down the three flights of stairs to find Gwen standing there on the front steps, wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants, her hair up in a topknot. Somehow, she looked as beautiful in these casual clothes as she had done all dressed up for our date earlier.
“Hi,” I said after I opened the door. “Come on in.” I stepped back and ushered her inside, realizing as we walked toward the stairs that I could not remember the last time I’d had a woman in my apartment.
“I’m up on the third floor,” I said. She followed me up, not saying anything, perhaps because she didn’t want to talk in the hallway and possibly wake up sleeping neighbors. Which was nice of her,
but it was really killing me, what this whole midnight visit was all about. I let her go into the apartment first, and then shut the door quietly behind us. Yes, it was more than strange to have a woman in here.
“This is a nice place,” Gwen said, looking around.
“Thank you.” I owned the building I lived in, an Edwardian in South of Market. I had the whole top floor and rented—at a reasonable rate—the other apartments. My top-floor apartment was an extravagance, way more space than one person would ever need, but I didn’t drive a fancy car, didn’t have a wardrobe worth hundreds of thousands—my living area was the one place where I let myself get a little excessive.
“Why don’t we go sit down,” I said, and I led her into the living room. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, I’m fine.” She sat down on the edge of the couch, folded her hands in her lap. “There is something I wanted to talk to you about,” she said. “Something that I thought of. But before I get into all that, I just... I need to say I’m sorry. I’m embarrassed about my behavior tonight. The way it ended. I shouldn’t have acted like that; I don’t know why I did. I was honestly a little surprised that you even picked up your phone when I called.”
“Why wouldn’t I have?”
“Well, I just figured you’d never want to talk to me again, and I wouldn’t blame you for that. So... I just wanted to tell you that before anything else. I’m sorry.”
She looked at me with those big brown eyes and I felt my stomach do a little flip. “Thank you,” I said. “Though you don’t need to say you’re sorry. I’ve been doing some thinking and I realized that I deserved that tonight, that it was probably karma or whatever.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just... we don’t have to get into it now. It’s not really that important. But I don’t hold anything against you about tonight; I actually had a really good time. Up until the end.”
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