by Kira Graham
And that is the truth. It’s just not easy to tell people the truth because no one believes me. I sniff, and they accuse me of being hysterical. I sneeze, and they coddle me as if I’m at death’s door.
“Oh, honey—”
“Mom! It’s an honest-to-God sinus thing. Call Rose and ask her if you don’t believe me. She and Ares took me to the doctor after this idiot knocked off yesterday,” I mutter, glaring at Beau when he shakes his head and swipes a chocolate bonbon.
“Cleo, I know that you’re sad.”
“I am not sad, Mom. I’m angry. I’m pissed at myself for letting Hart get too close, and I’m angry at him for not loving me back, but that’s life, that’s love, and that’s just karma for you. I’m moving on, which would be a hell of a lot easier if everyone would just let me,” I insist, leaving out the fact that I did cry, a little.
Just a little. I’m strong, but I am not made of stone, and it’s just not that easy to forget that you’re in love with someone. Not if that someone is Adonis Hart, the man of your dreams.
Hindsight’s an awful thing, and in hindsight, I have only myself to blame for this mess. Hart was right—I am a liar, and I cheated him out of so much. And if the very worst thing that I could stand trial for was being a shitty friend, then I’d cop to it. But I was worse. I used Hart to make myself feel better, to soak in all that adoration he gave me, all the while giving little in return.
Don’t get me wrong. I am pissed at him for not letting me explain why I didn’t tell him about Alicia and Dennis. I know that I should have told him much sooner, but it should count that I had built up enough courage to tell him that night.
The odds, though. God, I still cannot get over the odds that Dennis left me at the altar for Alicia Nelson, the one woman that Hart had ever been serious about.
It’s shocking, really. Okay, so maybe not that shocking, but come on, think of the level of karmic fuckery that had to have taken place for Hart and I to have met and fallen—well, technically, I fell for him. And he dumped me. About that, I am pissed off. The rest? Numb. And enjoying that numbness while it lasts, because if the random, reoccurring crying fits are any indication, it’s going to wear off sooner rather than later.
“But Cleo, you can’t move on! You need to fix this,” Mom insists, for the millionth time this week.
“Honey, there is nothing to fix,” I mumble back, scraping my spatula over the bowl’s lip and watching as silky, glossy chocolate pours off. “Hart found out about Dennis and Alicia, and he was justifiably angry. I should have told him the minute I realized that she’d run off with Dennis, and I should have been the one to confess that I knew about the baby. I was just so shocked,” I confess, grimacing when she huffs and steals another chocolate.
At the rate that Mom and Beau eat what I make, I won’t ever fill this order.
“Did you tell him—”
“I didn’t have to, Mom. He had a folder with everything in it. He knows that I went a little loopy, and he knows that I was jilted. He knows it all. He didn’t leave me because of that.”
Not Hart. At first, I wanted to hate him and think that he was disgusted by what I let happen, but I know him, and he would never judge me for losing it and needing help. Anyway, a breakdown isn’t something that’s shameful. Many people crack under the strain in their lives and need to see someone. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, I tell myself, strengthening my resolve.
“But Cleo—”
“I lied to him. I may not have lied outright, but I owed it to him to tell him what I knew. Heck, I should have told him about Dennis and the wedding long before that,” I whisper, shaking off the pang that settles inside me.
So many things should have been revealed before he ever held that folder in his hand, but I was a coward, and we all know it. I forgive myself, though, because I’ve had a lot of time to think, and to talk to my therapist, and I know that I need to cut myself some slack.
When I was young, I was as idealistic as they come. I fell in love with the most popular boy in school, and we had one of those sweet teen romances that you always read about. Fast forward to my senior year, when he proposed, and then fast forward to my wedding day, when I was left at the altar after walking down the aisle, and then go a little further to just after the wedding, when I had myself what most people would call “an episode.”
I kinda lost it there for a while, and when I came out of it, I was even more lost. I lost myself, I lost my dreams, and I pushed until everything was in a box labeled “Do Not Open.” I completely transformed myself into someone that no one would want, because, at the time, that’s how I felt about myself.
It was no easy thing to get over what Dennis had done to me, and it was even harder when I found out that he’d been cheating on me for a while and had knocked up some other woman who was three years older than he was.
Meltdown.
I’d had no idea that Hart and Alicia had been together until she broke up with him out of the blue, and, to be fair to me, this shouldn’t have been such a big deal for him because even Athena said that he hadn’t been all that serious about her to begin with. I just don’t get it. He was so angry with me, and for what? Because my ex knocked up a girl he wasn’t all that serious about? Okay, so maybe he wasn’t upset about that, but rather about the fact that I had been with Dennis. According to Rose, who heard it from Zeus, Adonis despises Dennis. Still, to break up with me…
Maybe he was just done, I think, still struggling to come to terms with the reasons for all this. God. Who knows why he got so mad, or why he broke up with me? It’s done, and, like I told Mom, I’m moving on.
It’s been three weeks, and Alex is right—I can’t just sit around moping in my apartment. So I’m going on a date, even if I do have to take Beau with me because Dad cried so much at the thought of my being hurt by some nonexistent stalker that I couldn’t refuse. Whatever. The point is, I’m going on a date with a guy Rose set me up with. He’s a client of hers, some well-to-do tech guy who comes highly recommended by Rose because, as she put it, “He’s sick fucking hawt, and if anyone can make you forget about Adonis Hart, it’s Cameron Black.”
“None of this is turning out right,” Mom frets, shaking her head with a sigh. “You and Addy are great together. He was always so sweet, and he laughed about the terrible things you’ve done, Cleo.”
“Mom, I didn’t do terrible things. I was a naughty kid who had four naughtier sibs. And he laughed because his family is the same way. There’s no hidden meaning there, no ‘meant for each other’ message. We dated, it ended, and now I’m moving on. You need to let this go. Please,” I beg.
The more she goes on about this, the harder it is for me. I’ve had several calls at three a.m., detailing various desperate plans to get Adonis back, and the truth is, if I thought that any of them would work, I’d be carrying out each and every single one. Because I’m an idiot who still loves Hart, no matter how much he hurt me.
“Moving on! Going on a date with some other man. While some lunatic is still after you,” she rages, with Beau nodding along with her.
“There is no one after me! I told you all, it was probably just some crazy ex-hookup of Hart’s, sending a message. That’s his problem now, not mine,” I tell her, abandoning the chocolate to grab a cup of coffee and one of the donuts that Mom brought over.
Ironically, she’s discovered a knack for baking that she never knew existed. I say ironically, because I am exactly the same, and that sickens me slightly. We can’t cook, but pour a pound of sugar and butter into it, and suddenly, we’re artists.
Biting into the donut, I sigh, moan, and settle against the counter to eat at least three of the sugary confections, one after another.
“Beau. Talk some sense into her.”
“Sorry, Mrs. S, but I can’t argue it logically. Cleo is right. We’ve had two teams shadowing us for the last three weeks, ever since…ahem, well. Anyway, they’ve been shadowing our movements, and there is no one following Cleo, or
even so much as showing an interest in her,” he informs her, his smile way too bright.
Story of my life. No one’s interested in me. Unless you count the old lady next door, who knocks on my door and basically smiles her way through a daily cupcake heist. The old bag is just too adorable for me to deny.
“Well, that’s good, I suppose,” Mom sighs, sounding not at all pleased about the fact that I am safe.
“See? Nothing to worry about. I’m in good hands with Beau and his guys, and soon I won’t even need his sulking ass sitting on my couch,” I say, giving him a look when he pouts.
“You’ll miss me, Cleo,” he mumbles, making me smile and incline my head in agreement.
I’ve gotten to know Beau really well in the last few weeks, and it shocked me to discover that he’s happily married and has four children with his wife. To hear him tell it, she’s the only woman who exists in his life at all. I wasn’t too pleased to hear that he doesn’t think of me as a woman—more like a package that he has to keep safe—but whatever. It’s sweet that at least one woman is getting adored by a good man. Just not me.
But I will fix that, starting with this date tonight.
“I will. But it’s time for all of us to move on,” I say, giving Mom a hard look.
“Fine. But when you realize that you’re losing a good man, and that it’s too late to fix things, don’t come crying to me. And don’t tell your father. You know how sensitive he is about you girls,” she grumbles good-naturedly, an affectionate smile curling her mouth.
In the last three weeks, I’ve been smothered with love. My family really is great, and I will never, ever forget the fact that the aunts and Mom offered to kill Hart for me. Or that Dad came over to cheer me up almost every day for a week. Of course, it wasn’t all that easy to handle when the man needed me to console him, but it was kinda funny, and I did laugh, which helped a lot.
“Scout’s honor. Now, go home so that I can finish this order and get ready for tonight,” I tell her, shaking my head when she eyes another chocolate and steals one despite my bark of protest.
“Where is he taking you, this…man?” she sneers, her enthusiasm so sweet that I crack a smile.
“We’re going to a charity gala that raises funds for stray animals.”
Blech. I like animals as much as the next person—okay, so I don’t really like them, unless you count the seventeen imaginary cats that I once told Hart I had. Maybe I should get one, see how that works out, and then invest in a few more. Those spinsters on TV sure seem to think that they’re a cure-all, and Taylor Swift is totally in love with her cats. Not that I’d mention that to Tee again, because her version of that feline love is that “some women just love pussy.”
Yikes.
“Nonsense and poppycock, if you ask me! There are sick and starving people in this world, and that’s where any spare money should go,” Mom declares, kissing me on the lips before laying one on a struggling Beau and heading for the door.
“Be a good girl, Cleo. Mommy didn’t raise loose skirts,” she trills, slamming the door before I can yell back a scathing reply.
The damn woman needs to make up her mind. First, my eggs are getting all dry and useless, and yet now she wants me to save myself for marriage. I can’t win.
“Why is it always on the lips?” Beau whines, making me giggle and shrug.
“She’s a mouth-kisser. Just go with it, and don’t fight too much because it only gives her more gas. Now, go back to that crossword puzzle and stop eating my work,” I mumble, getting back to it so that I can distract myself from the coming evening and the nerves that this date is dredging up.
“It’ll be fine, you know. Maybe Rosetta is right, and you just need to take the plunge,” Beau says softly, after almost an hour’s worth of contemplative silence.
I snort, knowing that his version of a pep talk is probably going to end with my wanting to have plastic surgery. I love Beau, but he’s about as sensitive as a doorknob, and, like I’ve already said, the only woman who exists for him is his wife. Compliments from him come in the form of “you don’t look so bad” and “you’ll do.” I miss Hart and his effusive, sappy drivel. He’d say things like “perfect” and “sweet,” and he’d basically make me feel like a million bucks, even if I was wearing something a homeless person would call the fashion police about.
“I know. Stop talking to me.”
“You’re practically curdling that chocolate with your glaring, girl. Just relax. What’s the worst thing that can happen? You go on this date, don’t like the guy, and bounce early.”
“Or, I might like him but not like-like him, and then I’ll start stressing out about whether I am capable of liking another man besides…him. Then I’ll feel guilty and go on a second date, and a third and a fourth, and by the time a year has passed, I’ll have convinced myself that I like this guy, and it’ll be another Dennis all over again,” I yell, blinking blankly when I realize what I’ve just said.
Well. That was informative, albeit a little late.
Jeezus.
Beau snorts, and I see his lips twitch before he pretends to go back to his crossword and leaves me standing alone, stunned and really freaking unsettled.
What do you mean, just like Dennis? You loved Dennis.
Well, actually, we were friends more than anything else. I mean, of course I loved him. I was heartbroken, and—yeaaah, even I can’t lie to myself right now, I think, gulping down more coffee when it becomes apparent that the chocolate isn’t happening anytime soon.
I did love him, didn’t I? We were getting married, and I was so excited about finally starting our life together. Yes, of course I loved Dennis. Just in a different way compared to Hart, I think, breathing a sigh of relief. Phew! For a second there, I thought that the last seven years were all a waste.
Okay, so you loved him. Big whoop! The guy was an asshole, and you knew that.
So is Hart! That’s why I’m going on a date, idiot. To get over assholes and finally land myself a good guy. Someone sweet and sexy and funny and exciting, because I am not shortchanging myself again. I may not have liked the story I had before, and I may have wanted to erase it and replace it with something you’d read in a Christian romance—look, I’m not saying that they aren’t good, read-worthy stories, okay? It’s just that there’s zero sex, and I just don’t get it. But whatever. The point is, I don’t want a dull, mundane, sexless life.
I want a good story. And I’ll write one. Just as soon as I get through this date.
It’ll be fine. It will be. I can do this.
Chapter Sixteen
Cleo
It is not fine! It won’t ever be fine again, and I cannot do this!
“Rose!” I hiss, my eyes firmly fixed on the wall, where I’ve decided that my gaze will remain for the next hour, even if it kills me.
“Just keep looking at the wall, breathe deeply, and don’t look over,” she hisses back, her voice filled with venom as she tells her date and Cameron to go get us drinks so that we can have a minute alone.
My pits are sweating hard, my head is light, and I think I may upchuck the donuts I’ve been eating all day if my stomach doesn’t stop clamping up. Oh, God. Why? Of all nights, why tonight? I ask, my chest hurting as I let out the breath that’s been trapped in my lungs ever since I walked in here.
“I can’t do this, Rose,” I say through clenched teeth, feeling a betraying burn in my eyes that warns me that one of my random crying fits may be making an appearance soon.
Rose sighs, and for once, I don’t get a slap, an insult, or a pinch for doing something that she doesn’t like. She steps in front of me, blocking me from view, and looks down at me with eyes that are as soft as they are filled with the light of battle.
“Listen to me, Cleo. You can’t just walk out of here, not now that you’ve been spotted. The best thing you can do is pretend that he’s not here, ignore everything else around you, and just focus on being calm. We’ll stick around for an hour, top
s, and then I’ll get Cameron and Paul to take us to dinner.”
“I—I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper truthfully, my emotions forcing me to lay it all out.
In a perfect world, I’d be strong and fierce, and seeing my ex-something wouldn’t make me want to burst into tears, run out, and go seek solace in booze, sugar, and my sibs’ scathing murder plots. But this isn’t a perfect world, and so of course I would have to walk in here and immediately lock eyes with Adonis Hart and all of his brothers. And his date. Who, by the way, is freaking gorgeous!
Like, model-material gorgeous, in a slinky red dress that shows off what must be hours, or days, spent at the gym. With a diet that probably consists of water, air, and an angel’s kiss. Whoever kissed me, on the other hand, must have been pure evil, then, I think scathingly, glancing down at my black, figure-hugging dress that I needed Spanx to fit into.
“You have to, Cleo. Please, honey. Please don’t let this be an issue. Hart is here with some oxygen-guzzling whore. Fine. But you’re here with Cameron Black,” she points out, reminding me that I’m not some pathetic loser with no prospects.
I am here with a man who is as good-looking as he is sweet, even if he’s as boring as hell and doesn’t understand the fine art of conversation. I don’t want to be a bitch, but I don’t understand half of what he’s saying most of the time, and I went to college. I’m not dumb.
“I am.”
“Then be here with Cameron. He’s a good guy, and he’s worth some recognition. Let’s just”—she sighs, peeking back before facing me again—“ignore Hart and get to know Cam. If you don’t feel a spark, then fine, we’ll move along to something else later. For tonight, remember that you’re a successful, beautiful, interesting woman that Cameron was bowled over by when he saw you,” she reminds me, smiling when I grin.
It’s true that Cameron was very complimentary about me when we met at Rose’s office, and I do like him. It’s just that I don’t like him the way I like Hart. Well, I’ll have to get over that, won’t I? I tell myself, stiffening my spine and pasting on a smile when I see the men headed back our way.
