P.S. I Hate You

by Winter Renshaw

Must have slipped his mind to put that in the will before he died.

  “I’m sure they’ll be worth a small fortune by the time you’re ready to sell them.” I sit back in my chair, eyes locked on Halston’s.

  “Do you read, Ford?” Halston asks, lashes batting slow.

  My chin juts forward as I contemplate my response.

  “I’ll bet you’re a Kerouac kind of guy,” she says, propping her head on top of her hand, her full lips drawing upward.

  “I had a Kerouac phase once,” I say. “Many years ago. Glad to say I finally came to my senses.”

  Halston’s smile disappears. She sits a little straighter. “On the Road isn’t necessarily one of my favorite books, but it’s still an iconic classic in American literary history. It still has a place on my bookshelf, I’ll say that much. I revisit it from time to time, when I’m feeling … nostalgic.”

  “Sounds like a perfectly good waste of time,” I snuff, glancing down the table.

  “It’s not a waste of time at all. I enjoy it. I like thinking about Kerouac, his words and what they meant,” she says.

  Our eyes hold.

  “You know, some people say that Kerouac was just a regular guy, stuck between the life he was expected to live and the life he wanted to live,” Halston says. “An ordinary man placed in an extraordinary situation.”

  From my periphery, I see Catherine and Mason exchanging looks.

  “Okay, everyone, we’re going to head out to the beach.” Aunt Cecily stands at the head of the table. “Roger just got back with the Quahog clams. We’re going to dig our hole and get going! There’ll be games for the kids and drinks for the grown-ups!”

  Chairs scoot, screeching against the wood floors, and everyone files out the sliding doors to the deck that leads to the sandy beach path. I stay back, letting everyone else go on ahead.

  “Hey, you doing okay?” Nicolette taps my shoulder. I’d completely forgotten she was here.

  Frowning, I say, “Of course I am.”

  “Sorry you got stuck sitting with the evil queen.” She pouts.

  “I survived.”

  “I know you did. I’m proud of you for not causing a scene.” Nic pulls me by the arm toward the crashing waves. “God, they’re assholes. Did you see she still wears her engagement ring?”

  I manage a curt chuckle. “I saw.”

  “And how the hell did Mason land such a bombshell girlfriend?” she asks. “He’s so phony and awkward and a social idiot and she’s so refined and elegant. It’s got to be the money. That’s the only thing I can think of.”

  “Does it matter?”

  Nic laughs. “No. I suppose it doesn’t. I’m just being catty.”

  By the time we make it to the shoreline, two of my uncles are digging a hole in the sand while the other one is prepping the rocks and seaweed. My aunt hands us each sweaty bottles of beer before chasing after two little kids who are running toward the lapping water.

  “I wish Dad was here,” Nic says, uncapping her beer. “Seeing everyone … just makes me miss him. He’d be all about the clam bake right now. That was always his thing.”

  Focused on the sea, I think about the man who made me who I am today, for better or worse.

  “You need to forgive him.” My sister nudges me. “It’s been over ten years. What good is it doing for you to still be angry with him?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “He was our father. He was supposed to love us and take care of us.” My body tenses, the breeze blowing soft across my skin. “He just abandoned us. He wrote us off. Literally. He wrote us out of his will. Not even so much as a goddamned book to remember him by.”

  “He was brainwashed by the evil queen. You know it. I know it. The people of the United States of America know it.”

  Once again, my sister’s flippant disregard for a situation so tragic gets under my skin, though I suppose we each have our own ways of dealing with uncomfortable situations.

  I build walls.

  She makes jokes.

  “Seriously though, you have to let it go.” Nicolette’s hand glides through the air. “Life is too damn short to spend it angry and pissed off, Ford.”

  Arlo runs past, giggling and chasing after a few of the other kids. The last time I felt that free, that alive, I had just started my new job, and I was spending my nights chatting with a woman who put a genuine fucking smile on my face for the first time in years.

  Glancing toward the rest of the group, I find Halston. The wind blows her dark hair, the strands undulating as she brushes them from her absinthe eyes, and she looks my way.

  Half of me wants to swallow my pride, ask her how she’s been and if she’s thought about me as much as I’ve thought about her.

  The other half of me wants to rut around in this anger, my fists still clenched and not yet ready to let it go. It takes a big person to forgive someone for destroying their career and shattering their heart. I always prided myself on doing the right thing, taking the high road, but that was then, when I was Kerouac.

  And I haven’t been him in a long time.

  Chapter Fifty

  Halston

  This has got to be some kind of joke.

  I’m wandering the halls of Cecily and Roger Hawthorne’s Sag Harbor estate completely lost and disoriented. All I did was come inside to use the restroom five minutes ago, and now I’m in the west wing of the beast’s castle. I’m pretty sure the candelabra is going to start singing to me if I don’t get the hell out of here soon.

  A wall of family portraits seems vaguely familiar … maybe we passed that on the way to the dining room earlier?

  Stopping, I linger in front of them, studying the black and white photos displayed in museum quality arrangements. A large photo on the end catches my eye after a minute. A man who looks exactly like Ford with his dark hair, square, chiseled jaw, and hooded eyes stands in front of an old car, his arms crossed and the ocean in the background.

  “That was my father.”

  His voice startles me, and I take a step back.

  “Ford.” I release a breath, my palm resting over my frenzied heart. “Hi.”

  He moves toward me but keeps a safe distance, studying me, taking me in like it’s the first time all over again.

  “It’s good to see you again,” I say. “You look … amazing.”

  And he does. The tanned skin, the longer hair, the look in his eyes like he wants to devour me … it’s working quite nicely for him.

  My attention falls to his hands, which are hooked at his sides. I can’t help but to wonder how they’d feel in my hair, under my clothes, tracing my mouth, sliding inside me.

  He glances past my shoulder before tightening his mouth into a hard line, and then he pushes past me.

  “Wait, so you’re just going to walk away?” I ask.

  Ford stops, releasing a hard breath before turning to me. “Yeah. I am.”

  I wince, refusing to accept that I’ve come this far only to be disregarded by the only man I’ve ever loved.

  “I’m really glad you were able to move on so easily,” I say. “Really glad life just went on for you.”

  Lines spread across his forehead. “Yeah, looks like we both moved on just fine. Good job landing my stepbrother. Real winner you got there.”

  “You’re jealous.” I smirk.

  “More like disappointed. Thought you had better standards than that. Guess people change.”

  “I’m not with him, Ford.” I step closer, taking my time and approaching him like a handler would approach a stray dog in an alley. “We work together. I do his PR. He asked me to come as his wedding date.”

  Ford doesn’t flinch. “That’s not what he’s telling everyone.”

  “I know. And we’ve had that talk. Many, many times.” I shake my head. “He has a hard time taking ‘no’ for an answer, and he’s having an even harder time accepting the fact that nice houses and fast cars don’t really do it for me. He likes
me, Ford. But I don’t like him. Unfortunately, I’m still hung up on somebody that I used to know.”

  “That ship’s sailed, Halston.” His words sting, but I refuse to take them at face value. There’s something else going on here, something I’ve yet to pinpoint.

  “Are you still working in education?” I ask.

  He scoffs. “Seriously?”

  “I’ll take that as a no …”

  His hand drags through his hair, his head tilting back as he groans.

  “What are you doing now?” I ask.

  Ford contemplates his answer, or maybe he contemplates whether or not he wants to give me one at all. “I’ve been traveling. Internationally. Doing contract work.”

  “Makes sense. I tried to find you a few years ago,” I admit. “Trail went cold in New York. Assumed you left the country, but I never really knew for sure.”

  He nods, his silence indicative of the fact that he doesn’t want to be here, having small talk with me.

  “I think about you all the time,” I tell him before he walks away and I never get the chance again.

  He says nothing, just stands there staring at me.

  “You’re not going to say anything?” I chuckle, half nervous and half hurt.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  Shrugging, I blink away the threat of tears before it becomes noticeable from where he stands. “I don’t know. Say something.”

  His palm rubs his jaw as he peers at the floor.

  “I don’t understand,” I say.

  His gaze flicks onto mine. “What don’t you understand?”

  “We had a connection,” I say. “Something I’ve never had with anybody else, something I’ll probably never have with anybody else. We couldn’t be together then, but now? I’m almost twenty-four. I’m no longer your student. All the barriers have been removed, and you won’t even give me the time of day without acting like I disgust you.”

  “Yeah, well, pretending like nothing happened has never been my strong suit.”

  “I’m not asking you to pretend like nothing happened. I’m asking you to treat me like a goddamned human being. One, might I remind you, that you once claimed to love.” I step closer, invading his space, my finger pressed against his chest, which at this point is nothing more than a hollow cavity, heartless. “Oh my god. I get it. I get it now. You only wanted me when you couldn’t have me. Wow.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is. You’re just like the rest of them.” I step back, jaw slack. “How the hell did I not see that?”

  “That couldn’t be further from the truth.” He moves toward me this time. “Wanting you had nothing to do with whether or not I could or couldn’t have you.”

  “Then why don’t you want me now? Now that you can have me?” I ask.

  He pauses, his presence imposing and daunting, yet I can’t leave. Not until I get my answer.

  “I waited for you,” I say, voice breaking. “You asked me to wait for you. You said you loved me. So, I waited. I waited five fucking years.”

  I try to say more, but the words get stuck. My eyes burn, but I won’t cry. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me because clearly that’s what he wants.

  “Halston.”

  Placing my hand up, I pull in a ragged breath, gather myself, and walk away.

  Lila was right.

  I was an idiot for waiting.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Ford

  “What are you doing out here?” I ask. The low Atlantic tide is painted in moonlight and there’s a slight chill in the summer air. Everyone’s long gone inside. I hadn’t seen Halston in hours, not since our little confrontation in the hall. “I thought you left.”

  She’s seated on a rocky slope beside the boathouse, her knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. The wind ruffles her dark hair, which I’m still not used to on her. The Absinthe I remember had wild blonde waves that matched her wild spirit.

  This Absinthe is more controlled, more refined. She’s elegant and poised, polished. There’s a quiet strength about her that was always there before, but now it’s showing itself in a whole new way.

  “Just wanted to be alone,” she says, not looking at me.

  Fair enough.

  “You know, I’ve thought about you every single day for the last five years,” she says, tucking a strand of dark, windblown hair behind one ear. “There hasn’t been a day when I haven’t wondered where you are or if you’re thinking about me or if you’ve moved on or if you’re happy or if you’re missing me as much as I’m missing you. There hasn’t been one day when I haven’t wished I was with you, experiencing everything by your side.” Halston rests her cheek on top of her knee, glancing up at me, her green eyes shining in the dark. “I know this sounds absolutely ridiculous and I’m going to sound like a schoolgirl with a crush, but I always thought that if things would’ve worked out differently, you and I would be together now, spending our days reading amazing books and drinking good wine and screwing like crazy.”

  “You’re living in fantasyland,” I say, not that I haven’t imagined the same things myself.

  She presses her lips flat. “I know that. Now.”

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out between us,” I say. “And I mean that, Halston.”

  “Yeah. Same.” Dabbing her eyes with the backs of her hands, she chuffs. “You know what’s really fucked up?”

  “What’s that?” It pains me to see one of the strongest women I’ve ever known so vulnerable, so raw. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m the only person who’s ever seen this side of her.

  “I’d still let you fuck me. If you wanted,” she says. “You don’t deserve it, but I’d let you. And only because I want it. It’d be for me, not you.” Halston shakes her head, half chuckling, half crying. “You’ve turned into a coldhearted asshole, and clearly you have some hatred toward me that you can’t seem to let go of. So maybe … maybe we should?” She rises, drying her cheeks and staring me straight on, shoulders pulled back. “Maybe one night together is all we need? You get closure. I get you out of my system. We’re both free to move on after that.”

  I begin to speak, but she cuts me off.

  “All I ever wanted was to be yours,” she says. “I’ve waited and waited—just like you asked me to. And I think … one night with you would be better than never being with you at all.”

  “I don’t understand how you think this would make you feel better?”

  “You don’t need to understand,” she says, speaking quickly, cutting me off. “This is just something I want. For me. It has nothing to do with you.”

  Before I say another word, her fingers begin to work the buttons of her top until it falls down her shoulders, landing in the sand at her feet. Sliding her shorts down her long legs, she steps toward me, reaching her hand toward my face.

  I tense, willing myself not to enjoy this.

  I’m going to fuck her.

  And just like she has her reasons, I have mine too.

  She’s the one thing I’ve always wanted, the one thing I’ve never had. Maybe one time is all we need so we can both finally move on.

  Her fingertips trace my jaw as she presses her half-naked body against mine. Rising on her toes, she hooks her arms around my shoulders, angling her mouth just below mine, an offering of sorts.

  Skimming my hands down her hips, I grip her tight ass, lifting her up until her thighs hook around me, and then I carry her inside the boathouse, locking the door behind us.

  “You sure you want this?” I ask, my cock beginning to strain against my shorts.

  Halston nods, breathing me in with a lungful of damp, salty air, her hair whipping across her pretty face.

  Her body slides down mine until her feet hit the floor. Cupping her jaw in my hand, I angle her lips once more, holding them hostage, drawing this moment out a while longer if only to tease her, to punish her.

  This woman betrayed me—ru
ined me—when all I wanted to do was love her.

  Halston’s hands tug at the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my shoulders and tossing it aside. Turning, she peels the tarp off my uncle’s speedboat and climbs inside. I follow, unzipping my fly as the boat rocks gently on the water.

  Taking a seat in the front of the boat, she shimmies out of her black panties and unclasps her lace bra, throwing them behind me.

  I almost lose my breath at the sight of her creamy soft skin and delicate, feminine curves. She places a hand on her hip as we lock eyes, the perfect mix of confidence and vulnerability, and as much as a small part of me wishes I could make love to her tonight, that I could go easy on her and make up for all those years we lost …

  … it’s not like that.

  This woman destroyed me.

  She stormed into my life and left a devastating wreckage in her path.

  And now she wants to act like it never happened, like we could just pick up where we left off and live happily ever after.

  She’s lost her goddamned mind.

  “Turn around,” I say.

  “What?”

  “Turn around,” I repeat myself, my instructions clearer this time, stroking my cock in my hands.

  Halston turns, bracing herself on the front of the boat, body slightly angled. From here, I have the perfect view of the most gorgeous ass I’ve ever laid eyes on. Tight and toned, begging to be slapped and ridden.

  Lowering myself, I drag my tongue along the seam of her wet pussy, my right hand reaching around and circling her clit. Her taste is spun sugar, addictive and exhilarating, and her breathy sighs only serve to make me hard as a fucking rock.

  Rising, I place my hands above the curve of her hips, spinning her to face me. With one finger, I lift her chin, positioning her mouth near mine. Slipping a finger between her thighs, I drag it along her slit before slowly plunging inside her.

  Good God, I’ve never felt anything so tight, so wet.

  Sliding it out, I bring it to her mouth. “Taste yourself, Halston. Taste what I can do to you.”

  Her mouth accepts my finger, and her velvet tongue grazes my flesh.