by Skyla Madi
“This dinner is difficult for me too,” I tell him, and he pulls away from me, exasperated.
I feel cold without him close. Empty. Alone. Shivering, I wrap my arms around myself to hold in the warmth.
“Difficult?” He laughs, and I wince at its cruel undertones. “I go years without feeling anything after my sister’s abduction and my mother’s suicide. No remorse, grief, happiness, sadness, anger. Then you came along and…I felt, and I felt, and I haven’t stopped, not since I met you.” He grits his teeth, then releases, pinning me with his intense stare. “I’m sorry dinner is difficult for you, but you have no idea how fucking painful it is for me.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, and defeat radiates from him, punching me in the gut. “I can’t do this anymore. I’ve wasted so much time already, leaving Agnes to die in the hospital without me, hoping you’d change your mind and come with me. Instead, you’d rather stay here in arctic fucking New York for no reason at all.”
“I told you I can’t go.” I push off the wall. “As you can see, my life isn’t exactly smooth sailing. There are things I need to sort out with—”
“If you mention his name, I swear I’ll throw myself over this damn railing,” he snaps.
I clamp my lips shut and rub them together. Knowing Caleb’s battle with his mental health, I take his threat seriously.
“I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I have a ticket for you. Come with me.”
“I have a job, Caleb. I can’t just up and leave or take time off.”
Unconvinced, he reaches into his pocket and plucks out another cigarette, a lighter too. “Have you even asked for time off?”
I blow air out of my nose and tip my head as he puts the butt of the cigarette between his lips and draws the lighter to his face. He’s not being fair. I can’t afford time off work, and that’s barely scratching the surface of my problems. I mean, after tonight, I’m probably homeless too. I can’t go to Paradise Valley. I have too much to do. “No.”
“Thought so.” He flicks his thumb, and a small flame burst from the metal surface, casting a picturesque, orange light across his face. Caleb covers the flame with his hand, protecting it from the wind, and lights the cigarette. Stuffing the lighter into his pocket, he inhales, holds it in his lungs, then blows it out. “Do I have to threaten you to get what I want like everyone else does? Do I need to belittle your emotions? Your intelligence? Exploit your daddy issues? Make you feel small?”
I don’t fucking have daddy issues. I ball my hands and tighten my arms around my body. “No.”
“Seems like it.” He takes another drag. “Maybe I’ll even get a kiss out of it.”
I flinch. I’ve never seen him so bitter or heard such cruel, cold tones in his voice, and my blood pressure skyrockets in offense. How dare he? “You’re breaking your own heart, Caleb. That kiss was forced, and I won’t apologize for it.”
Caleb drops the wasted cigarette to the landing and stomps it out under his shoe. He stares at it, in thought. I scoff and turn on my heel. I can’t keep arguing with these…these boys. My whole life has been one argument after another. I can’t take it anymore. Or at least not for another second tonight. I pull the window open. Ignoring Caleb as he calls my name, I slip inside Nick’s warm apartment and grab the cold sill in my hands.
“Cassi—”
I slam the window shut and take a deep breath. My skin prickles as everyone’s attention settles on me. I have to pull myself together, put on a show, and get through the rest of tonight. I’ll deal with the fallout tomorrow when I’m rested. Smoothing my hands down my dress, I take my seat at the table, and it’s awkwardly quiet, save for the subtle music and the tinks of cutlery as they connect with dinner plates.
Emotion burns at my chest and stings the back of my eyes. Clearing my throat, I take a sip of the wine in front of my plate and grimace as fermented fruit and chemicals dance on my tongue. Regardless, I extend my sip into a mouthful. A mouthful into a large gulp. When the glass is empty, I set it down with a shaky hand and look at Fiona, who offers me a comforting smile. I smile back, and it makes me want to explode.
“What was for you outside?”
I slide my teeth together and blink quickly as tears prickle. My chest continues to ache, and if I don’t let it out soon, I’m going to embarrass myself in front of everyone even more. Avoiding Nick’s stare, I look down at my plate. “I had a cigarette with our neighbor, if you must know.”
“Since when do you smoke?”
I grab my fork and stab it into a piece of roast chicken. “I don’t.”
An awkward silence brews. The longer it drags on, the shallower my breath becomes. My palms sweat, my stomach turns, and my shoes feel like they’re cutting off my circulation.
I’m gonna cry. I glance up at the lights above and blink. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I squeeze my tongue to the roof of my mouth and lower my attention to my food once again. It’s okay. You’re not weak.
Fiona hums and swallows whatever she’s eating. “So all four of you live next door? How do you fit?”
“Caleb has his own room,” Wade answers, taking Lauren’s slender, tattooed hand in his as he reaches for his beer. He points his beer bottle at Lara and gestures across his body to Lauren. “We sleep together.”
Fiona straightens in her chair, her brown eyes wide and intrigued. “Together as in…” She laughs and cups her cheeks. “Wow! The three of you?”
Wade beams, lowering his bottle to sling his arm along the back of Lara’s chair. “Yeah.”
She dusts breadcrumbs off from her pink sweater and leans into him. Lauren, however, pushes salad around her plate, seemingly bored.
“Beautiful,” Fiona sighs, and I quirk an eyebrow, shifting my blurry gaze to her. She seems very interested in the idea of a polygamous relationship. I’m not surprised. She was invested in a strange show about sister wives not long ago. “Welcome to the new age, huh?”
Everyone laughs, and I’m proud at how well I fake it. While Fiona continues to pry into Wade, Lauren, and Lara’s private life, I feel Nick’s stare burning into the side of my face as he eats his lamb, cutting into it with so much attitude it makes me uncomfortable. He asks me simple questions about my day, about my dress, and I answer them, albeit abruptly. Surprisingly, he compliments me on my outfit, and I offer a tight “thanks” and become fixated on a single, gross little olive on my plate. The arguments I had with Nick and Caleb replay in my head over and over, and I think about the things I should’ve said, the things I shouldn’t have said. Mostly, I pick myself apart until the barriers I’ve held up to keep my overwhelming emotions at bay crack and tears rush into my eyes. I can’t fucking sit here. I shove my chair back, and it makes a horrible screeching noise against the floor.
“I have to go.”
I jump to my feet and rush through the living room, snagging my thick coat off the back of the couch where Caleb laid it.
“Sia?” Fiona calls after me, and I wave her off.
“Let her go,” Nick bites out as I grab the door handle. “Having her here is ruining my appetite anyway.”
Unanimously, Fiona and Wade snap at Nick, but I don’t stick around to hear them defend me on my behalf. Fighting with Nick is a losing battle, one I happily forfeit.
I rush from the apartment as hot tears drip onto my cheeks, and not for Nick, nor Caleb, but for myself. The only person to blame in this whole scenario is me.
Chapter Ten
C A L E B
I’m an asshole.
I replay the argument in my head over and over, and I hate myself more and more. I allowed myself to get lost in my anger, my jealousy, and my selfishness. Who the fuck am I to demand she drop everything in New York and follow me to Arizona? Who am I to twist her arm into doing what I want? I’m no better than Nick, who, by the way, is a giant dick.
And the kiss…she’s right. I’m breaking my own damn heart. It was clear she wasn’t a willing participant, but I treated her like the instigator. I’m pat
hetic.
I push off the wall with a shiver. It’s too damn cold to stay out here.
Inside the apartment, the air is warm, and it thaws me out almost instantly. I glance around the space, and my stomach sinks like a stone. Wade and Lara are the only ones here. They’re bent over the dining room table, clearing away the dishes.
“Where’s Nick?” I ask, sauntering over.
Don’t say with Cassia, because I will lose it. I stand beside Lara, who stacks my full plate on top of hers, and I pluck my half-eaten bread roll from the top. Wade exhales and lifts his stare. My muscles coil with apprehension. Dread punches holes through my gut.
“Down the hall with Fiona.” He points in their direction, a paper towel scrunched in his hand. “You’re right. He is a real piece of shit.”
“He’s drunk,” Lara says, like that should excuse his behavior.
I scoff, then take a bite of my bread roll and dump it back on the plate as Wade rolls his eyes.
“That’s no excuse, Lara. I’m drunk off my ass and I’m not harassing you.” He swipes the paper towel along the wooden table surface. “Have I ever treated you horribly while under the influence?”
Lara shakes her head, and her full lips curve into an adoring smile. “No.”
“No,” he confirms and strolls to the kitchen for the bin, dumping crumbs and an empty beer bottle into it. It clashes with more bottles inside.
Swallowing the bread, I lick my teeth. “And Cassia? Where’s she?”
“She left.”
My eyebrows lift. “Left? The apartment?”
He nods. “Yep, and to be honest, I don’t know if she’s gonna come back. I sure as hell wouldn’t.”
I frown. What happened while I was outside? Guilt twists my insides. I didn’t have her back tonight. Not once. Now, she’s walking around New York at night—a glacial winter’s night, no less—miserable and alone.
“It’s fucking cold out,” is all I can say as I move toward the door.
I pull my jacket tighter around me and zip it all the way up.
“It’s probably best to wait for her to come back. You won’t find her,” Lara calls after me, but I ignore her.
I’m not waiting around. There could be a catastrophic blizzard outside and I’d still go. I dig into my jacket pocket for my phone and try calling her. Three times, it rings out. Giving up, I open Snapchat and use their map feature, silently praying she still has her location enabled. I don’t usually care much for these social media gimmicks, but Fiona told me Cassia liked Snapchat the most because of their “adorable” filters. I created a Snapchat account with a random username just to see her snaps, and I’m glad I did. She’s so damn sexy with those butterflies around her head.
When the map loads, I instantly see her familiar blonde Bitmoji with the taco hat on its head—God knows why—and zoom in to see she’s not far from me. I yank the door open and glance over my shoulder.
“Leave the mess,” I tell Wade. “Dick can clean it up.”
It takes me twenty-three minutes to get to her. That’s twenty-three minutes to prepare my apology…and it’s forgotten the second I see her sitting on a snowy bench outside a monolithic, snow-covered neo-gothic church. Cassia’s tiny in comparison to it—in comparison to her father, to Nick, to me, and to the bench she sits on. Her shoulders are slumped, her back hunched, and she hangs her head to look at the ground. The sight of her stirs a colossal number of butterflies in my stomach. I want to stop walking toward her. I want to turn around, go home, and sulk and feel sorry for myself. Maybe drink myself into a stupor…
…but I force myself forward because I’m trying to be a better person than I was before I met her. The old Caleb would let her go and write it off as another bridge burned, but I’m not that boy with a match anymore, and what we have is more than a flimsy bridge. I came all the way to New York for her. This Godforsaken city is not where we end.
I stop walking when I reach the edge of the bench. Cassia’s body tightens. She squares her shoulders, straightening her posture, but she doesn’t look at me.
“I don’t want to argue,” she says, her voice as cold as ice. “I can’t stomach anymore.”
I swallow hard and inch closer, stuffing my ungloved hands into the pockets of my slacks. I peer at the empty space beside her. It’s free of snow and slush. “Can I sit?”
Threading her fingers together in her lap, she nods, and I sit beside her in front of the church, on the edge of the quiet road. It’s dead silent. The only thing to be heard is the wind as it whips by my ears.
“It’s a beautiful church,” I utter, attempting to goad her into small talk.
Cassia presses her thumbs together and fidgets. “It’s my favorite in the city.”
“It’s the biggest too.”
She cranes her neck to look at the top of the church’s spires. “What else do you know about it? Is it as big on the inside?”
I look at her and admire her side profile. Her features are slender and delicate, like a fairy. Flakes of snow sit in her blonde and pink locks and sparkle under the dusky orange lamp above us. Cassia’s younger than me by a few years and far more sheltered than I ever was. I forget that sometimes.
“You haven’t gone in?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve avoided prayer and church since I left Paradise Valley. This is the first time I’ve stopped long enough to admire it.” Finally, she looks at me, and the warmth exuding from her eyes thaws the entire block. “Can I tell you something stupid?”
I nod.
She looks back to the church. “I turned my back on religion when I left Arizona. Maybe that’s why nothing has gone right for me since.”
I stare at her as she frowns, like she’s trying to make sense of it all.
“I turned my back on religion when I was a kid, after my world went to shit, so I don’t think there’s a correlation between the two.”
She thinks about it for a few minutes before turning the conversation back to the church. “Do you know when it was built?”
I glance at the cathedral, and my chest aches. It’s my mother’s favorite of all the religious buildings in the world, save for the Vatican. I know almost everything there is to know about it, thanks to my mother’s constant prattling about it.
“It was built in 1878 after, I think, twenty years of construction. It has twenty-two altars, and twenty-two bells, all named after different saints.” I pull my hand from my pocket to scratch my head. “One of the altars is made of pure gold, the others bronze. There’s two pipe organs, one gallery organ, and the baldachin—”
“How do you know all this?”
“I’m not just a pretty face.” I smile at her, but it catches on the guilt running rampant inside me and fades. I can’t pretend I wasn’t a complete jerk. I want to, it would be easier, but she deserves more. “I was an asshole to you.”
“Yeah. You were.”
“You needed support, and I refused to give it because my pride was hurt.” I moisten my lower lip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve projected my anger and jealousy onto you. It wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault.”
I can’t remember the last time I cared enough to apologize about anything, but since I’ve been in New York, it’s all that comes out of my mouth. I keep screwing up, over and over, and I don’t know how to stop. Cassia watches me, her head slightly tilted. Usually, Cassia’s an open book, but for the first time, I don’t know what she’s thinking. Her usual clear blue eyes are clouded, her perfect lips are slightly pinched, and her manicured eyebrows have a dubious kink to them.
“I know I cling to you like a security blanket,” I continue, running my mouth without thought, panicking she’s gonna tell me it’s not enough to salvage tonight. “I know I’m hard to handle sometimes, that I’m a mess you struggle to navigate, but I’m trying. I try every day to be better—happier. Calmer.” Her expression softens, but anxiety eats at me, like termites in wood. “It’s wrong of me to expect you to drop your life an
d follow me wherever I go. I shouldn’t demand things of you, like I own you.”
“Caleb—”
“I’ll admit I didn’t want to leave you in New York with Nick out of fear he’d send us back to where we were when I got here. We’ve made so much progress, Cassia. Then I saw him touching you, kissing you—”
“Caleb—”
“I don’t want to brush tonight off as just an argument because every argument is just an argument until it becomes the argument. There’s a reason the saying ‘the straw that broke the camel’s back’ is a thing and—”
She cups my face in her freezing, gloved hands, commanding my silence, and kisses me on the lips. Her eyes flutter shut, but I keep mine open as ease rolls through me. Cassia forgives me without words, absolves my behavior with a simple kiss. Closing my eyes, I move my hand to her thigh and rest it there. Touching her slows my heart to a normal tempo, my blood too, and all the dread, apprehension, and anxiety that built up in me on the way here dissolves into nothing.
Until I’m calm.
She breaks the kiss but keeps her hold on my face. “You talk too much.”
I smile at her. “Apparently.”
“It’s been a crappy night for us both.” She strokes my cheeks with her thumbs. “And you’re not entirely to blame. I know that.”
“I have a ticket for you,” I tell her, mentally praying to anyone who’ll listen that she decides to come with me. “You don’t have to use it, but if it gets too much for you while I’m away, it’s there.”
That’s what I should’ve said the first time around.
Her lips quirk into a gentle smile. “Thank you.”
She lowers her hands, lays them in her lap, and goes back to looking at the church. I sit in silence, watching her, as the wind picks up and violently lashes at us. Flakes of snow feel like sharp edges of paper as they hit my skin and dissolve on impact, and Cassia’s hair whips wildly around her shoulders, her face too, but she’s otherwise unphased. I fear she plans on sitting here all night.