by R. C. Martin
“You used to go out and party and pick a guy and mess around with him. And you know what? When you didn’t call or speak to him the next time you ran into him, he didn’t care because he was using you, too. It was your thing. It was a cycle that did more harm than good. But it was. Was—past tense. That’s not who you are anymore. You haven’t been that person in a long time.”
“Even still—”
“You love me.” Saying the words makes me smile in spite of this frustrating conversation. I lace my fingers with hers and hold on tight. “You love me. That is who you are now. I’m no better than you. Different, but not better. I don’t deserve anything, but I want you. I forgive you and the person you were. I forgive every stolen kiss and every horrible decision you’ve ever made—I forgive you!”
“But why? After what you just saw—”
“Because I love you, too.” The words come out on their own. It isn’t until after I’ve said them that I realize I have. It isn’t until after I’ve realized my admission that I register that I mean it. I can tell Logan is still in a panic, which means I don’t have time to process this new reality, I just have to go with it.
“Because I love you, too,” I repeat. “Because everyone has a past filled with moments that they wish they could do over again. Because who you are is who you choose to be, and you’ve chosen to be more than the girl that guys hit on at the bar. Because God loves you and forgives you and cherishes you, so I will, too.”
“But I—”
“You pushed him away,” I murmur, leaning toward her as I slide a hand around the back of her neck. “You pushed him away because you choose me. I choose you, too, Logan.” I punctuate my statement with a kiss. The act seems to reawaken her, snapping her out of her self-deprecating thoughts, and she kisses me back.
“Wait,” she mutters, pulling her mouth away from mine. “You love me?”
“You said it first,” I reply with a smirk. She coughs out an airy laugh and then draws in a deep breath, wiping the remnants of her tears from below her eyes. I can tell that something is still bothering her because our playful banter ended before it even began. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she sniffs. “I just, I don’t know, I think I’m realizing that the only reason I probably got to be a part of this project is because of how I look. I used to think that sort of shit didn’t bother me, so long as there was something in it for me, but—he’s really good at what he does, Rome.” She blows out an irritated breath as another tear spills from her eye. “I thought—I thought he respected my work.”
“Hey,” I begin to say, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Who cares what he thinks? You did an amazing job and I’m so proud of you.” She looks at me from beneath her lashes and I offer her an encouraging smile. “In fact, I think we should go back and enjoy the party and celebrate with the people who do matter. Besides, you look incredible. You can’t take this dress home without a proper showing.”
She smiles a small smile before she presses a quick kiss onto my lips. “Okay.”
“I should tell you one thing, though.” I clear my throat as I get up and offer her my arm.
“What’s that?” she asks, resting her hand in the crook of my elbow as she stands.
“I punched him.”
Her eyes light up as her mouth falls open with a gasp. “You did? Oh, man. I’m sorry I missed that! Do you think you left a mark?”
“Let’s go find out.”
“Roman?” She speaks my name so softly I can barely hear it over the sound of her heels. “Thank you.”
I move to wrap my arm around her waist and pull her into my side as I bring my lips to her ear and whisper, “I love you.”
She turns her head in search of my lips and I offer her a kiss before she tells me, “I love you, too.”
I miss Trevor. Every time I think of him, my chest aches. It’s debatable whether or not the heat and humidity are responsible for the heavy weight that seems to be crushing me at the moment, or just his absence. As I lay across the blanket we’ve spread out on the lawn, I close my eyes and listen to the music coming from the stage across the field. I didn’t sleep very well last night, much to the distress of my most gracious hosts. I’ve assured both Ave and Gray that their couch is actually very comfortable, as is the rest of their adorable one bedroom apartment. It’s filled with odds and ends that make it the idealistic newlywed/grad student home. My lack of sleep had more to do with me laying there alone. All night I wondered what he was doing—if he was with Crystal or out with the guys or just at home by himself.
I hate this fight. I hate everything about it. Mostly, I hate that I don’t know who’s right. Not anymore. I was so sure that he needed the space, that his negligence was proof. Now I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to want space. At least I assume as much, since he’s left me five voicemails since I got here. He’s called even more. I won’t answer. I can’t bring myself to do it. Maybe that means I’m the one who needed space?
Dammit. This bitch is way too confusing!
My phone rings, pulling me from my thoughts, and I prop myself up on my elbows to see who’s calling. I don’t know why I look, knowing already that it’s Trevor.
“Daph, come on. He’s probably going crazy!” I bring my gaze up to meet hers. Avery casts her best big, brown puppy dog eyes on me and I groan as I throw myself down onto my back. She lays beside me on her belly, tossing her long black ponytail over her shoulder. “Okay, let’s go over this again. Sonny, get down here,” she commands affectionately, patting the space beside her.
He does as he’s told, stretching out on her other side as he mimics her position. We’ve been out in the sun for a while now; I can tell by the darkening of his freckles, sprinkled across his nose. Sweat beads up around his burnt-auburn hairline and I start to lean toward the possibility that the heat is the culprit behind my discomfort instead of my Trevor anxiety.
“So, blast from the past shows up out of nowhere and Trevor goes MIA. Sonny?”
“If a blast from my past showed up, I’d still remember to call you. Especially if there was some sort of change of plans between you and me.”
“Ha—point for me,” I mutter, reaching around her to give Grayson a high five.
“Not so fast,” argues Avery. “He said that the reason she came back caught him off guard. What if that happened to you?”
“Okay,” Grayson concedes with a nod. “I might forget to call, depending on said mystery reason.”
“Fine. Point for Trevor.” We’ve done this three times already, so I know how this all plays out. I love them for insisting that we do it all again anyway. “However,” I continue, “I get another point because he could have just come home without a call and I would have gotten over it.”
“I also think she gets a point because he wouldn’t just tell her what was up over the phone.”
“But he’s allowed to be mad that she ran off,” she tells Grayson. “We aren’t, of course. This has been the best surprise! Sucks to be him,” she tells me with a wink. “But I digress.” She picks up my phone and dangles it between her fingers. “Maybe he’s changed his mind about the over the phone bit, only someone is too stubborn to pick up and find out.”
“She’s got you there,” Grayson says with a shrug.
Traitor.
“Ah! He left a voicemail this time,” she exclaims, looking at my screen. “That puts him at six. Didn’t you say you’d call him after six?”
I snatch my phone from her and shove it into the back pocket of my shorts. “By my math, it’s three points Trevor, three points Daphne, which puts us at a stalemate. I say, we go get some ice cream and save the tie breaker for later. There was a food truck we passed on our way here that had a big scoop of ice cream on top. How about it? My treat,” I add, standing to my feet.
Avery groans as she stands with me. “I say, you’re a cheater. I can’t say no to ice cream. Hottie, will you stay with all of our stuff?”
“As lon
g as you bring something back for me.”
“Of course,” she says, bending down to snatch a kiss. “Love you. Be right back.”
The line at our desired truck is long, but with the weather as hot as it is, I’m not surprised. While we wait, Avery indulges me as I divert all conversation to that of today’s bands. Turns out, my timing was actually perfect and there are music events all over the city this weekend. This free concert in the park started late this morning and goes for the rest of the day. Later tonight, Ave and Gray are going to take me to this jazz bar they’ve already come to love in the few weeks that they’ve lived here. I might be walking around with a constant ache of longing, but I can’t deny that it’s good to see them and spend time exploring with them.
Finally, it’s our turn. I’m craving cookies and cream, which happens to be Grayson’s favorite, so we all end up getting two scoops of the same. By the time we make it back to our cozy spot on the lawn, I’m halfway done with my serving. It’s so good. Then, as soon as I sit down, I start feeling nauseous. Suddenly, I’m reliving yesterday’s awful debacle at the airport. I went from just fine to vomit until I’m empty in a matter of minutes.
Just thinking about it has me up on me feet, my treat abandoned as I go running for the nearest trashcan. I don’t notice that Avery’s with me until she starts rubbing comforting circles around my back.
“Ave—I’m sorry. You don’t have to be here for—” I’m interrupted as the rest of my ice cream comes back up, along with what I can only guess is part of my lunch. “Avery…”
“Grayson’s collecting our things. We’re going to take you home.”
“God—I’m so sorry.”
“Stop apologizing for not feeling well.”
“It just…it came out of nowhere. I—” More vomit.
How. Embarrassing.
When Grayson joins us, he offers me some water. I rinse out my mouth and spit before I try swallowing a few sips. It goes down without trouble and we take that as a sign that I’m well enough to make the trip back to their place. Upon our return, I decide to take a shower. By the time I’m out, I feel refreshed. Empty, but definitely less queasy. Avery suggests that I try taking a nap and I don’t argue.
I sleep deeply, which is a relief. My guess is that the hours I spent in the sun wore me out. I wake to the sound of Avery’s giggling coming from the kitchen. I smile, grateful to be someplace where joy permeates every nook and cranny. It makes me think of Trevor and the last morning I spent with him. We made love and he made me breakfast and we were happy, too. I reach for my phone, suddenly wishing to hear his voice, and listen to his last voicemail.
“Daphne, please. Please just call me. I miss you. I’ll explain everything. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, just call me back. I love you.”
My eyes fill with tears as I listen to the message over again. He sounds like he’s hurting as much as I am. I realize, as I listen to his message a third time, that this is the tie breaker. He wins. This fight sucks and I should just call him back. So I do.
When it rings through to voicemail, my heart sinks and my momentary hope of making up right this instant is dashed. I toss my phone onto the cushion beside me and then head for the kitchen. I find Grayson and Avery side by side, manning the stove, flirting as they cook.
I watch them for a minute, since their backs are to me and I can get away with it. The kitchen, like their bathroom, is tiny. I don’t know how they manage to throw together any type of meal with the outrageously small counter space allotted to this room. But they do. They do it together and it’s sweet.
“Oh, hey. You’re up!” Avery greets me as she turns to grab something from the fridge. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” I assure them. “It’s so strange. It seems to go just as fast as it comes.”
“So, I called my mom while you were sleeping and we tried to figure out what might be wrong.” She grabs a stack of cheese from the fridge and hands it to Gray. “Oh, by the way, we’re making grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner. We thought it might cheer you up. Does that sound okay?”
“Um.” I pause, resting a hand against my stomach. “To be honest, I’m suddenly and sadly repulsed by all things dairy. Actually, do you mind if I just have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? That sounds really good to me, right now.”
“Absolutely!” she says, pulling out the necessary ingredients.
“What did you and your mom come up with? I mean, did she think of anything that might explain how I’m feeling?”
“Oh, right. Well, at first, she thought it might be food poisoning.”
“No,” I reply, shaking my head. “I’ve had food poisoning before. I was practically glued to the bathroom floor.”
“Yeah, I told her that these seem more like isolated occurrences, which ruled out both food poisoning and a tapeworm. Then she asked if you were lactose intolerant—”
“I’m not. And the possibility that I might be acquiring an intolerance is just too depressing to even entertain.”
“I second that,” she adds with a laugh. “I told my mom about your love for lattes and ice cream, which ruled out that theory, too. Then she made a joke about how you might have a different little worm that wants you to take a break from dairy, but I…”
I gasp softly and my mind starts racing as the rest of her sentence goes in one ear and out the other. Without a word, I head out of the kitchen and toward the living room where my bags are. I dig through my purse until I find my birth control pills. My stomach drops when I realize that I’m late. It’s such a miracle that I remember to take the damn things in the first place, I didn’t notice that the color of the pills had changed. It’s just been a couple days, though, so it could mean nothing. At the moment, I can’t remember if I’m regular more times than not; I never really cared to pay attention before.
“Daphne?”
“Um…” I hesitate, dropping the pills back in my purse as I count how many days it’s been since the first time Trevor and I had sex. Three weeks, yesterday. Shit. “Where’s the nearest drug store?”
“Wait.” Avery eases her way down onto the couch in the seat right next to me. “Do you—? Are you—?”
I shrug, unable to form any words as I try desperately to hold back my tears. When my phone starts ringing and I see that Trevor is trying to reach me, I lose it. “Good god, you have shitty timing,” I cry as I hand the device to Avery.
I can’t talk to him right now! But I don’t want him to think I’m avoiding him. Not anymore. Especially if—oh, god…
“Will you—? Can you—?”
“I got it,” she says, sliding her finger across the screen. “Trevor? It’s Avery. Sorry. Yeah. She’s not feeling well. She’s in the bathroom. Can she call you back? Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Alright, bye.” She smiles at me reassuringly as she hands me my phone. “He wanted me to tell you he was with a client when you called. He also said he’s going to church tonight so, if you’re feeling okay, call him after. And he said he loves you.”
I nod, unable to manage much else. She takes hold of my shoulders and locks her gaze with mine before she speaks again. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll go to the store right now, alright?” I nod once more before we both step into our shoes and grab our purses. As we head for the door, she takes my hand and I take a deep breath.
I curl my left arm behind my head as I lay stretched out in the middle of the bed. My phone is resting on my bare chest and my eyes are focused on the new ink on my right arm that I got earlier today. I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at it. An hour. Maybe two. It’s getting late, but I highly doubt that I’ll be sleeping tonight. I didn’t get any sleep last night, either. At least tonight I have something new to look at.
At this point, I’m not really sure where Daphne and I stand. We haven’t spoken since our fight. I’ve called so many times I’ve lost count. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t hear from her until after she got back. Then she called. She called and I missed it
. By the time I had a chance to call back, she couldn’t come to the phone. Avery said she’s not feeling well—which only makes me feel worse. She should be home…
Then again, isn’t that how she felt two nights ago? Isn’t that how we got into this whole mess to begin with?
I honestly don’t care anymore. I screwed up, she screwed up—it doesn’t matter. In the end, it’s still just her and me. Forever. I won’t have it any other way; it’s why I didn’t hesitate for a second to get my tattoo today. For a while, as I was sitting in Harvey’s chair, my pain was redirected. Now, I feel like tomorrow can’t get here soon enough. I miss her so fucking badly I can hardly stand it. There is so much I want to talk to her about.
Since I haven’t been able to get her on the phone, I tried to get a hold of Logan. I forgot about her party tonight until she sent me a text a little while ago. When I texted her back, just wanting to know Daph’s flight information, she played the girl code card. Apparently, until Daphne says otherwise, she can’t release that information.
That’s complete and utter bullshit, if you ask me.
I jump when my phone starts to vibrate against my chest. When I see that it’s Daphne, I can’t answer it fast enough. “Hello?” I say, sitting up.
“Hi.”
I scrunch my brow, worried by the tone of her voice. She sounds weird—like she’s been crying or something.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she says unconvincingly. “I’m fine. Sorry to call you so late.”
“Baby,” I sigh. “I don’t care what time it is. How are you feeling?”
“Oh…Fine. Thanks.”
Silence passes between us and my mind scrambles, searching for the right thing to say. “Look, Daphne, I’ll tell you—”