“Honest, of course,” he said, watching me as he sipped the champagne. I followed suit, trying to determine the brand. If I had to guess, maybe Veuve Clicquot, one of my mother’s favorites.
“Well…I love your words.” I gave a nervous laugh, trying to articulate what I thought about him and his writing. He laughed too, likely thinking I was still teasing him. I dropped the humor from my voice, tilting my head to meet his eyes as I spoke. “I love that your words are important. They make people feel invested in the story. Your work isn’t merely consumable, it’s held close, analyzed, and reanalyzed.”
The humor faded from his expression. He didn’t say anything, staring at me in the same way he had while up at the podium on the first day we came face to face. Like he couldn’t look away, but he was terrified to keep staring. I cleared my throat. His reaction put my nerves on edge. “Did I say something wrong?”
He seemed to snap out of whatever was going on in his head, taking my hand once again. “Not at all. I just didn’t expect…I thought you would tease me or say you liked it. You weren’t being kind or polite, like most people. And I suddenly realized how much I really care about your opinion. And then you go and say one of the most meaningful things anyone has ever said to me about my writing.”
“Derek, I’m sure everyone had told you—”
He didn’t let me finish. “No, Alyssa. I’ve been complimented and favorably reviewed, but no one, not even my friends and family, not even…” He trailed off for a beat, but I didn’t fill in the blank. He continued, “No one has told me what I write matters.”
“Well, it does. Your books are still so popular because you’re able to bring an entire world to life and make us feel like there’s this one experience we could all be possibly sharing across the universe.” I squeezed his hands, making sure he knew I was being genuine. We were comfortable enough with each other to be playful, but in some incidences, he needed confirmation of my sincerity.
Also, I had a hard time wrapping myself around the idea of no one telling him that what he wrote mattered. Wasn’t Emily his great love, his soul mate? Shouldn’t she have been his champion? If their relationship was so perfect, so epic, then why had he still felt insecure at times? Because I understood my insecurities now, I had been with someone who cut me down instead of built me up.
I wanted to kiss away whatever made him feel less than wonderful. In place, I gave him an encouraging smile as he led me into the ballroom. His brief flash of insecurity vanished as he took a lap around the room, chatting with the literary crowd. He was faking it, which looked exhausting. He kept hold of my hand the entire time and I felt the curious stares on our intertwined fingers.
Derek had just done a series of interviews a month ago about his great loss and tracking down Emily’s killer. They were likely all wondering, how he could’ve suddenly started dating again. Curious eyes assessed me, both the men and women. For once, I didn’t care what they thought. With Jake, the opinion of his friends and their wives always mattered to him, so in turn they mattered to me. I had to say the perfect thing, wear the perfect thing, but never be myself. Derek’s opinion was the only one I cared about in the room. Not many people mattered to Derek, but his selectiveness wasn’t a flaw. He was loyal to the ones he did care about, which was a trait I admired.
We were making our way to our table when I felt him stop short next to me. I turned to him curious, surprised over the sudden tension around his mouth. He was edgy at events, but usually better at hiding his real feelings. He gave me a sidelong glance before he dropped my hand abruptly. I felt stung over the coldness until I followed the direction of his stare.
I saw your mom yesterday. She looks so much like you that it hurt to be near her. She invited me to lunch, but I don’t know if I could fake it for that long. I have to pretend for everyone that I’m all right and it’s hard to do that with her.
Emily’s mother was like an apparition, an aged version of the girl who had died weeks before celebrating what would’ve been her thirtieth birthday. Mrs. Hill was tall, elegant, a classic beauty who could flawlessly pull off a sleek black pantsuit. Her lips were in a thin line as she glanced at Derek before locking her blue eyes on me. The white-haired man next to her, presumably her husband, had a friendlier look, less constipated than his wife.
“Derek,” he said kindly, although without a smile. Because of course, what did he have to smile about?
“Mark and Julia, I had no idea you were coming. Why didn’t you let me know? I would’ve made sure we were seated together.” Derek’s voice was too smooth, too false to my ears that I only wanted to cringe on his behalf.
“We had plans that fell through, so we reserved the tickets last night. We haven’t been to one of your events yet this year, so we thought it was far too long.” Julia’s smile was tight as she spoke to him, turning her body away from me. Her body language spoke volumes.
“That’s great. My schedule has been chaotic, but I haven’t forgotten about coming by for dinner. I can get back to you soon with a date.” Derek’s tone was jovial, reminding me of a bad play actor. Any moment if the floor could open up below me, I would be forever grateful.
Of course, he didn’t introduce me. I stood there stupidly, feeling cheap and unimportant, while he carried on a conversation with the Hills. I guessed they were on friendly terms, but he was making dinner plans with them? He never mentioned they were still a big part of his life.
Finally, Emily’s father decided to take pity on me. “And who do we have here?”
“Of course, I’m so sorry, the champagne must be already hitting me.” The Hills laughed at his remark while I remained silent, keeping a bland expression on my face. I resented Derek for making me return to the person I was before. “This is my friend Alyssa.”
My friend. I couldn’t believe he had done it. He had labeled me for the first time the entire evening and it was to Emily’s parents. I murmured a greeting, noting that no one was looking at me anyway. They were already in their own little bubble, talking in low tones as if their mourning was a shared thing that could only be understood by them.
Finally, I couldn’t stand another minute of being around any of them, Derek included. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find the ladies’ room.” Derek nodded, before his shoulders slumped in relief. He was glad to be rid of me. He was happy I was no longer bearing witness to such a sacred bond.
Jake had slighted me countless times. There was always someone more important than me in the room. But I’d sit and feel nothing. I wouldn’t cry, I wouldn’t fall apart. I would just accept I wasn’t the one meant to sparkle and shine.
And I didn’t cry over Derek either. I rushed to the ladies’ room not as a way to hide my tears, but to hold back my rage. At that moment, Derek Walsh turned my stomach, made me sick enough I wanted to vomit up the champagne I had just drunk. I hated being there, hated that he made me feel smaller than Jake had in more than seven years of dating. I never asked to come with him, to be part of his world. He invited me in and then did something he promised he never would: made me feel like a nothing.
Unsurprisingly, Julia Hill was waiting for me as I exited the bathroom stall. I hoped the fury on my face had slipped in time as I made eye contact with her through the sink mirror. I had nothing to say, so I ignored her measuring gaze as I washed my hands.
When I took a minute to center myself, to fully realize her loss, my anger disappeared. She had lost a daughter—she outlived her child. “I’m glad to finally meet you. Derek seems really happy to have you here.” I actually had no idea how he felt, but I was aiming for a kind sentiment. And maybe after such a great loss, she deserved as much kindness as possible.
“Who are you?” She wasn’t accepting my compassion and I tried to be understanding. I tried to imagine myself in her shoes, meeting the next woman after her daughter. Because although Derek had introduced me as a friend, she must’ve seen enough to spot something more between us. She had come to the bathroom on
a mission.
“I met Derek a few weeks ago. We’re friends.” I wouldn’t reveal more to her, not when Derek went to the trouble to say I was nothing but a friend to him.
She nodded although I could see the strain around her eyes. “He’s never mentioned you before and we talk all the time, at least three times a week.” Her words were meant to act as knives. “He’s always been like a son to me, tells me everything about his life. And then we talk about Emily…always back to Emily. What did you say your name is again? Marissa?”
She hurt me, but I wouldn’t show it. She had no idea how many times I was able to deaden myself inside and pretend to be perfectly fine. If I got upset over every cruel word I had endured, I would’ve never survived the last twenty-eight years.
Julia Hill had offered me a healthy dose of reality. Derek talked to Emily’s family all the time and their opinion still mattered to him. It mattered enough he’d treat me with so much coldness in front of them. His indifference set teeth on my heart and I couldn’t forgive him. Not when he spent the past few weeks convincing me I was different. Swearing there was no discernable reason we couldn’t be together.
She opened her mouth to say more, staring at me in annoyance as I remained silent. She was baiting me, looking for a fight to convince herself I couldn’t mean something to Derek—proof I was an unworthy replacement. Any compassion I felt for her lessened because if she cared about Derek at all, Julia Hill would never want him shackled to a ghost. I murmured goodbye as I spun on my heel, stalking out of the bathroom.
I was getting the fuck out of there. I already escaped one gilded cage—I wasn’t going to be trapped in another. I felt betrayed by my best friend. He had promised to not be like Jake, but he was worse. At least, Jake never pretended to be one of the good guys.
Chapter Fourteen
Leaving the bathroom, I looked around the ballroom, spotting Derek still talking to Emily’s father. He had a steady gaze on the man, which relieved any worry of him realizing I was leaving. Purposefully, I strode to the foyer of the country club and found a quiet corner. After opening the Uber app on my phone, I blanched at the cost to get a ride home. The ride share would cost me at least two days of tips, but it was worth it. Screw Derek Walsh.
No one noticed as I headed outside, walking down the path to the edge of the country club’s property. The driver showed up quick, arriving in less than ten minutes. I didn’t let out the breath I’d been holding until I was inside the sedan and making my getaway from the gala.
I was always running, but this time I felt right about it. I had to start standing up for myself. Wasn’t that Derek’s very own advice?
Where are you? His text demanded. Almost thirty minutes for him to think of me, to remember he hadn’t come alone. If I wasn’t so angry, I’d cry.
I left. I’m going home. I never asked for any of this.
My phone started to ring, but I refused to answer. I wouldn’t fight for us because he made me feel like we were nothing. He’d told me everything I wanted to hear. Promised what we had was the right thing for both of us. I gave him so many chances to walk away, but he pursued me. He chased me, not letting me set us both free from what would surely be another heartbreak.
I warned him he hadn’t been ready. I’d seen the messages, felt the anguish over his loss. Emily and Derek were the greatest love story of them all and he forced me into the role as an interloper. I pleaded with him to not pursue me if he had any doubts about us, if he had any guilt. I would’ve still been his friend. I could live with that. I had enough of my own pain to heal from, I couldn’t fix him too. He kissed me first, begged me for a chance to prove himself.
Derek kept calling. I saw voicemails, but I couldn’t stomach hearing his voice at the moment. Bile coated my throat as I recalled him saying, my friend Alyssa again and again in my head. He hadn’t labeled me the entire night, not until he was confronted with his past. The worst of it all was the discarded sensation as he dropped my hand as if it had been burning him.
I didn’t undress right away as I stormed up to my apartment. I paced the floors of the kitchen, my pent-up rage not lessening at all since leaving the gala. With my eyes closed, my entire being became sickened over the idea of how much I’d been looking forward to ending the night back at his place.
I thought about texting Jenny. She’d make me feel better. We could go out to Molly’s Pub and swear off disappointing men. But I was too angry, too ready to swing at the nearest person. Derek had found a way to make me dial into my darkness once again.
Most of all, I resented him for making me do a reckless thing. I blocked my number and then I made a call to a phone number I knew by heart. I called the one person I hated more than anyone else in the world. I called her.
“Hello,” her voice was soft, breathy, always so perfectly feminine. Out of my mind in one moment and then all I could see the next.
“You are dead to me,” I snarled into the phone, poisonous rage spilling out of me.
“Alyssa?” Unfazed, her tone didn’t even sound concerned over my words. She waited for confirmation, but I said nothing. Finally, she said, “If I’m dead to you, why are you calling?”
“Because I wanted you to know that you don’t win. Not this time.” I blinked away tears borne of anger and frustration. “I’m happy. The happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life. And I have you to thank because you took him away from me. But you didn’t steal him, you freed me.” After sinking down into my kitchen chair, I circled the phone in a death grip.
“Absolutely, you sound really fucking happy right now. Alyssa, what is this? Are you on drugs?”
I spoke as if I didn’t hear her reply. “I’ll never forgive you. Never. And when I saw you, when it happened, I said nothing. I did nothing. But I’m calling you now to say that’s not me anymore. I’m not the same person. And if I never see you again for the rest of my life, that’s too damn soon.”
Disconnecting, I then shut my eyes. I thought I’d feel closure, a sense of release, of finally telling her how she became dead to me that day. Confronting her was supposed to be a way to go back and correct my pathetic response to her deceit.
But I didn’t feel better, not even a little bit. Because the one person who was actually important to me, was the one I should’ve been calling to release my rage.
I had to get out of the apartment, go anywhere to distract myself. My space had become too full of Derek memories. I was even standing in the very spot he first kissed me. When he stopped me mid-sentence because he just couldn’t wait a second longer. I couldn’t lie down in my bed, the mattress where I had dozens of fantasies of him naked and on top of me.
I texted Jenny to find out if she was at Molly’s Pub, telling her I would head there in ten minutes. I’d have to change first; the black dress way too formal for the bar. My makeup required a touch-up too, since my anger had caused my cheeks to turn a bright crimson.
I was shocked at my sudden surge of temper, floored I had lashed out at her. I despised confrontation, avoided it usually at all costs. But at the moment, I was primed for a fight, completely prepared to wish them all to hell.
I dug through my dresser after touching up my makeup, looking for something to wear. For an instant, I thought of texting Zeke to meet me there, but thought better of it. The last thing I needed was a morning after I’d regret, no matter how off-kilter I felt. Plus, who was I kidding? Derek Walsh had ruined my chances of ever being able to date a nice, normal guy the minute he kissed me.
The clothing retrieved from my dresser slipped out of my hands as I heard large footfalls on my stairs outside of my apartment. A second later, a persistent knocking could be heard on my front door. Shocked, I stomped through the apartment, throwing open the door without checking who was behind it. There was only one possible person.
I expected contrition, Derek at my door with his tail between his legs. But no. Derek stood before me, breathing heavily, with an expression of pure fury. “What the fuck was tha
t about?” he hissed at me, before walking around me into my apartment.
I sneered at him after slamming the door shut. How dare he walk in my apartment as if he owned the place? “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? You left, Alyssa! You go to the bathroom and then fucking disappear! You don’t even explain yourself—sending some vague text about not asking for any of this. And then you don’t even answer the phone, which is a quality about you that is really starting to piss me off.” He threw his hands up in frustration, his eyes blazing at me. He couldn’t be that dense not to realize why I was upset.
“How could you? How could you treat me like I was nothing in front of Emily’s parents? How could you introduce me as a friend?” My voice was low, but furious, my hands at my sides in tight fists.
The anger in his face didn’t abate at my accusations. “What did you expect me to do? I had no idea they would be there,” he said irritably.
“I’ll never be treated like a nothing again, Derek. Not by anyone.” I held up my chin proudly, saying my words with the deepest conviction.
“You can’t be serious?” He ran his fingers in frustration through his thick dark hair before continuing, “I say the wrong thing once, hurt your feelings, and this is your reaction. Your ex cheated on you for how long exactly, Alyssa?” I fought the urge to smack him across the face at his rhetorical question. “And you were fine with it, let him get away with hurting you again and again, but I make one slip-up and you react like I’m a complete asshole.” He leaned down, his eyes narrowed at me, his expression disgusted.
“I told you that you weren’t ready. And you promised me that you were. Tonight just proved what a liar you are,” I volleyed back at him.
His laugher was dark, humorless. “I’m the liar, that’s hilarious. You keep so much from me, I’m not even sure what the truth is about you. I’ve been patient with you, gave you space when you asked for it. Chased you when you kept running away.” He ticked off each complaint against me with his fingers. “Well, I’m done chasing you. I’m done trying to prove to you that I do want you.” He shook his head with repulsion. “You don’t even realize how messed up you are over Jake. He still has your self-esteem in the toilet and he’s not even here. He spent all those years making you feel worthless, so you wouldn’t leave him. He had to beat you down to make you think he was the best out there. You don’t even know what a healthy relationship looks like.”
The Despair of Strangers Page 15
