by Brynne Asher
“What happened,” he demands.
“Nothing,” I insist. “We realized we have a differing opinion on something important. Really important. I don’t think either of us is going to change our minds. I know I’m not.”
“About what?” His brows furrow, not understanding.
I shake my head.
“Can’t you work it out?”
“This is not about compromise, Tony. This is an all-in or all-out decision. I’ve decided I’m not bending and I won’t.”
“You’re hard-headed,” Tony states. “You’ve never been with anyone. Maybe it’s time you should bend. Learn to compromise.”
“Absolutely not,” I insist, and quite frankly, a little pissed. Tony has no idea what I’m talking about. It’s not like we’re trying to decide between skim and two percent milk here.
“Paige, that’s what you do in a relationship,” he keeps on.
“You don’t even know what I’m talking about,” I say, sitting up to better argue with him.
“Listen—” he starts.
“He doesn’t want any more kids,” I blurt.
Tony jerks his head back. “Really?”
“Yes. You see, there’s no compromise. I want him, but I won’t give that up. He made a comment at his parents’ house that made me think this was true, I confirmed it this morning. Unfortunately, I was right.”
He sighs and looks at me for a beat before he pulls me into his arms and whispers into the top of my head, “I get it now.”
And damn if my brother giving me a hug doesn’t make me cry. I’m sick of crying.
“You know this for sure?” he asks into the top of my head.
“Almost for sure,” I muffle into his shirt.
He pulls me away from him with his hands on my shoulders and looks me in the eyes. “You make sure. Don’t be stupid and assume anything.”
“I know,” I say, wiping my face for the millionth time today.
“You want to stay with us?”
I shake my head. “I’m good here.”
“Call if you need anything. Everyone’s worried about you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, blowing my nose.
“I’ll tell them to leave you alone for the night.”
I turn to lie down, hoping I can go back to sleep.
Once Tony leaves me to my princess room, I hear murmurings from the females before Tony shuts the door. They must have moved out of the hallway because I can’t hear them anymore, going somewhere else to talk about me.
I roll over and close my eyes, praying to find sleep.
Thursday - 8:05 am
I don’t know how, but I slept better than the night before. Being exhausted helped. I’m up and showered, wearing fresh clothes of Charlotte’s that are a little too big, but still comfortable.
Charlotte is getting the kids around, Vic’s gone to work, and I just poured myself a cup of coffee. I woke up and decided I’m done being a big, fat chicken. I can’t lay around my sister’s house forever. It’s time I go back to my apartment and focus on work. Just when I’m trying to work out my plan, I hear the doorbell.
Charlotte, who’s cleaning up her kitchen from breakfast, mutters as she moves toward the front door, “Who could that be so early?”
I take my coffee and sit at her kitchen table when I hear Charlotte call, “Paige?”
I turn in my chair and see him. Cam is here, standing behind Charlotte. It’s been twenty-four hours since I’ve seen him—he looks bigger in Charlotte’s kitchen. The last day has seemed to drag on and on, as if time is standing still. He looks good, but he looks different. His blue eyes are guarded today and I don’t like it.
“The kids and I’ll go outside and let you be alone,” Charlotte says, I guess to both of us, but I wouldn’t know because I can’t take my eyes off him.
She leaves and Cam moves close, pulling out a chair at the table. He sits facing my side and leans down with his elbows to his knees. I cringe when he rubs his face roughly the way I’ve come to learn is a habit when he’s stressed. I look at my coffee and, as the many moments pass, I find it painful to be this close without touching him.
Breaking the silence, I decide to say what I planned to say, “I shouldn’t have come to The Shed yesterday. It wasn’t the time or place. I’m sorry.”
He stays silent and I hear him exhale.
“And I’m sorry your mom told me what she did. She didn’t mean any harm. I should have told you right away when it happened,” I go on.
He drops his hands, lifts his head to look at me ignoring everything I’ve said, blurting, “I can’t give you what you want.”
I turn away from him and look down at my coffee.
“We’re at different places in our lives—the last thing I need is another family. I can’t start over. You want that, you should have it.”
I pull my lips in, lifting my head once.
“I should never have started it with you.”
I close my eyes and bite my lip.
“Should’ve stuck with my instinct in the beginning, let you be. It’s my fault. I didn’t think it through.”
Oh shit. I swallow hard and squeeze my eyes.
“I’m rectifying that now. You should find someone who can give you what you need.”
I open my eyes and look at my coffee but it’s blurry. I hear him stand and even though he’s so close, he doesn’t touch me when he lays his final words out, “I’ll leave you be.”
I hear him move and I can’t help myself when I call, “Cam?”
I hear him stop but he doesn’t say anything.
I cast my eyes downward to my side so I don’t have to look at him. “I wish you could see what I see. What could be. I’d give you everything if you let me,” I choke out before finishing, “it could be perfect.”
He doesn’t say a thing but he also doesn’t leave.
I look back to my coffee when I ask, “What will you tell Jordy and Cara?”
“I’ll take care of it,” he says, his voice rough.
I hear him move before the front door slams. There’s no question. Cam took every ounce of doubt from my head that I’ve been building over the last day, hoping, praying he would come around. That’s it. It’s done. I sit here long enough to let my new tears dry. Moments, or hours later, I can’t tell since time is standing still, Charlotte returns. I’m still sitting at the table, my coffee cold and untouched in front of me.
“You can stay,” she says.
“Thanks,” I say into my cold coffee.
I get up, move into her family room and park myself on her sofa. I forget all about the plans I made to get back to work.
Friday - 10:22 am
“What are you doing?” Charlotte asks.
I’m on the sofa, lying on the princess pillow I’ve claimed as my own—Maddie will just have to deal with it—and flipping through channels randomly. Without looking up I say, “Congressing.”
“What’s that?” she asks, frustration laced in her voice.
“Wasting time,” I say without looking past the television.
“I’m going to the grocery store. You should come. Vic thinks if you’re staying here, he should at least get a reprieve from my cooking.”
“Not today.” I decide to leave it on National Geographic channel. Gameshows make my stomach turn and I thought I was going to throw up when I flipped by the first sports network. And I absolutely can’t watch anything sappy, including commercials. I’ve decided watching animals kill each other would be best.
I hear her sigh, but don’t see her leave because I don’t bother to look.
Saturday - 8:37 pm
I feel my feet come up and be thrown to the floor. I look over to see my brother-in-law, Vic, sit down at the other end of my sofa. I pull my knees up to tuck my feet under me and hear him ask, “The History Channel?”
“Mm-hmm,” I answer without looking away from my documentary.
“What war is this?” he asks.
“Re
volutionary. Or maybe American Indian. I don’t know.”
I hear him frown. “Paige, I don’t see any Indians.”
“Then it must not be the American Indian Wars,” I point out.
“I didn’t know you liked history,” he says, stretching his feet out on the coffee table, nudging my dirty cups and bowls over with his feet.
“I don’t,” I say.
“Then why are you watching it?”
“It’s called passive learning. If I lay here long enough, the learning will just come to me.”
“Holy shit.”
Sunday - 11:05 am
“I can’t see,” I complain, trying to look around both my sisters, Leigh, and Gabby.
I’m day three into Shark Week. I hit the jackpot when I found them on the DVR last night.
“You haven’t showered since Wednesday,” Charlotte says with her lip curled.
“When’s your next catering event?” Sophia demands. “I’ve checked your blog, you must have it set to update daily, but what about your advertisers? And you told me you’d help with Noah and Cayden’s birthday party. It’s only five weeks away. I want to get started.”
I look up at the four women blocking the television, ruining my Shark Week marathon. I decide not to say anything and cross my arms. I know I’m ignoring real life, but I’ve decided to wallow as long as I can. As long as I sit on this sofa watching documentaries or the natural process of the animal food chain, I won’t be reminded of what I don’t have anymore. I know the second I get back to anything normal, I’ll miss what I had for seven short weeks. I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle that.
“Rosa’s worried about you,” Leigh adds. “She said she hasn’t seen you in a while. She said if you don’t come and see her soon, she’s going to make me bring her to you and I don’t want to do that. She’s had a bug and it zapped her energy.”
I frown, worried about Rosa being sick and hate that I haven’t seen her. She’s texted and left voice-mails, but since I’ve decided to ignore everyone.
“What can we do to help?” Gabby asks.
I shrug.
“I could do a blog takeover for a few days,” Gabby offers. “I’ve done a few low-budget kitchen renos. I have before and after pictures. I’ll write something up to go with them, would that help?”
“Sure,” I mutter.
I look at Charlotte who sighs while she rolls her eyes, having finally lost patience with me yesterday, but says, “I know it’s Sunday, but you’ll be behind whenever you decide to snap out of it. I’ll look into your advertising tomorrow, check in with your clients.”
“When’s your next event?” Sophia demands.
“Tuesday night.” I look down at my cuticles that need to be trimmed. “It’s a big one, too. A garden party for seventy-five.”
“Seventy-five?” Leigh gasps.
“Who has garden parties?” Charlotte frowns.
“When do you plan to start working on that?” Gabby chimes in.
“Maybe tomorrow,” I say, wishing they would leave me alone. They’re pulling me back into reality and ruining Shark Week.
“That’s it,” Sophia declares, reaching down to steal the remote from me. She turns and flips off my sharks.
“Hey!” I yell.
She reaches for my hand and gives me a good yank. “Go take a shower. We’ll all shop for your event this afternoon and you can get Gabby and Charlotte sorted to help with the blog. You’re going back to your apartment tonight.”
“I’ll shop tomorrow, I don’t need anyone’s help. I can cook for my event here,” I argue, pulling away from her.
“Sorry, but this is us ripping off the Band-Aid. We love you, but you need to snap out of it,” Sophia says.
I frown. “You can’t make me do anything.”
Charlotte crosses her arms while hitching a foot and tips her head. “Fine. We’ll call mom.”
I feel my eyes go big as I hear Leigh and Gabby gasp in unison.
“We’ve kept most of this from her for your sake, but if you don’t get off that sofa, I’ll call her right now. So far, we’ve told her you’re busy with work and are taking some time to rethink things with Cam. But we’ll give her the full story and she’ll be here in a flash—you know she will. Lizzie Carpino will be all over you. Good luck finding a moment of peace when she gets wind her baby has a broken heart, no matter the reason,” Charlotte lays out her threat with a wicked smile.
“You wouldn’t,” I whisper.
“We would and we will,” Sophia confirms. “Go take a shower.”
Well. Damn them all.
I glare at the four of them and move my stiff body to the hall bath. They’ve given me no choice and have pulled out all the stops by threatening to call my mom. I have no energy for her right now. Showering and grocery shopping will be way easier.
Two nights later.
Brian
Her car is here.
Fuck, she’s back. I haven’t seen her here in weeks.
I turn into her complex and park where I can see her apartment window. The blinds are slightly open and her lights are bright. It’s late, too late for me to approach. Damn, I should’ve come earlier but I wanted to get here after dark so I could go inside.
But she’s here. What does that mean? I feel my heart race, I have to think. Think and decide what to do next.
I’ll wait.
I’ll wait here and see if anyone comes out, see if she’s alone. Maybe she’s alone. He’s got kids and they’re always with him. Why would he be here with his kids? No, if she’s here, she’s got to be alone.
Maybe something happened. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll still get my shot. My chance at Paige Carpino. Something I was beginning to think I missed. But this could be it.
I lean back in my seat to settle in for the night. Running my hands through my hair, I decide I might need to get a haircut soon. My boss has been looking at me funny lately, but the longer I’m away from her, the harder it is to focus on any-fucking-thing.
I hope that’s about to change. Just thinking about seeing her again makes me hard. Fuck, I really need something of hers to touch, to smell.
I stare at her window as I think about having the real thing. Her hands, her mouth, her cunt. Then I do what I always do and reach to unzip my fly. But tonight I do it thinking I’m one step closer.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hope
The next morning.
Paige
I hear a knock at my door and I can’t help but tense.
I never in all my life thought hope would be an emotion I’d wish to squash—stamp out and kill—like one would wish to kill a weed ruining a beautiful bed of flowers. But that’s what I want to do. Every time my phone rings, dings with a text or even when someone comes to my door, which has happened often since I returned to my depressing apartment, there it is. It washes through me making me warm, nervous, full of anticipation and dread, all at the same time.
Hope.
I’ve never hated anything more. As much as I want to, I can’t make it stop.
Because when I answer my phone, read a text, or open the door, I’m not only disappointed, sad, and depressed, but I feel gutted all over again. Damn the hope. I’m so sick of feeling this way and it’s starting to piss me off that I can’t shake it. And hating the hope has thrown a blanket of resentfulness over me, building the anger.
I go to my door and pull in a breath as I open it, doing my best to beat down the damn hope. But I’m taken aback when I look up into his face.
“Hey,” Brian says, looking as tense as I feel.
Although tense, he looks different. Tired, disheveled or maybe strung out. I know he’d never be strung out, so I ignore all this when his eyes dart behind me, looking quickly around my apartment.
I don’t feel like being cordial or friendly, so I frown. “What do you want?”
“You’re back,” he says, not answering me.
“What do you mean, ‘I’m back’?” I ask, not
moving to invite him in.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets, stepping backwards. “I mean, I drove by and saw your car. I haven’t seen it here for a long time. I thought I’d stop, see how you are.”
“I’m fine,” I throw back.
“How’s everything else?” he asks, narrowing his eyes on me.
“Great,” I spout. “I had a big event yesterday, it went perfectly and I have two potential bookings from it. Charlotte’s working on advertising for me—she’s picked up two new clients in two days, I’m thinking about hiring her. Gabby took over my blog, you know, for fun. It’s going over well, so I might expand my following. I’m on my way to see Rosa, I haven’t seen her in a while and I miss her. So see, everything’s great.”
“Do you miss me?” he asks.
I feel my mouth drop before glaring. “You cannot be serious.”
“I am,” he answers.
“You pulled away from me,” I remind him, raising my voice.
He takes his hands out of his pockets, leaning on the door frame. “You still with him?”
I can’t help that his words feel like a knife, and my voice immediately drops to a hush. “That’s none of your business.”
“You’re not,” he ascertains.
I pull my lips in and take a calming breath. I do my best to give him a blank look and say as strongly as I can, “No.”
“I told you he’d hurt you,” he states.
I close my eyes and try not to let that knife turn. “I’m not happy with you. I’m not happy you gave me an ultimatum, putting our friendship on the line. I’m not happy you wished anything ill for me and you know you did. I’m not happy in general right now, but I’m really not happy with you. I don’t want to see you, I’m on my way to see Rosa.”
With that, I slam the door on him. And lock it.
“You came to see me but you’re not going to talk to me?” Rosa asks.
