As he merges with traffic, I check my phone, but am disappointed when I see no missed anything. “It’s only unpacking flowers.”
“Yeah, but it’s saving her a lot of time.”
“I’m happy to help.” I have nothing else to do, except wallow.
When we arrive, Dash and I walk past Victor, who cheerfully says, “Good evening, Dashiell and Katriona.”
I weakly smile. “Hello, Victor.”
His face falls and he says, “Oh, my lovely Katriona. You look so sad. Dashiell, my sweets, why are you allowing her to be so glum?”
Dash looks over at me and says, “I brought her here. I’m trying to cheer her up.”
Victor shakes his head as he writes something on a piece of paper. “Working on funeral flowers. Such a charmer, Dashiell.”
Apparently ignoring the comment, Dash asks, “Where’s Mom?”
“Making a delivery and then picking up Faith at the airport.”
“Got it. We’ll be in the back.”
Victor wags his finger at Dash. “No hanky panky back there, young man. It’ll make me jealous.”
Dash rolls his eyes at me and replies, “Yes. A refrigerator is the perfect place for that.”
Victor looks away from us, biting on an ink pen. “I’ll have to say that it is not.”
Dash walks to the hallway entrance and I follow him as he mutters, “And that’s saying way too much.”
Walking into the back room, I casually say, “Your mom is very beautiful.”
Dash shrugs. “I guess.”
“Is Faith her girlfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s your dad’s name?”
“Dave. Why?”
I giggle when my mind puts it together. “Oh. That is adorable.”
He looks at me like I just announced that I’m in love with Victor. “That his name is Dave?”
I giggle more. “Your name. It comes from both of theirs. Dave and Shelbie.”
Dash rolls his eyes and nods. “Flippin’ cute, isn’t it?”
We laugh and he asks, “What’s your dad’s name and what’s he do?”
“Clayton. He’s a pharmacist.”
He grins as he heads for the refrigerator. “Street pharmacist? Illegal drugs?”
“You know it.”
Grabbing the door handle, he laughs. “Wait. Your name is in his. Spelled differently, but it’s still adorable.”
We both roll our eyes this time and laugh, but my temporary joy soon returns to chronic despair.
When Dash returns with a box, he notices how quiet I’ve become and asks, “How are you doing, really? You weren’t at your mom’s today, and I wanted to give you some time to yourself, but maybe that wasn’t a good thing to do. You wouldn’t answer my texts or my call.”
I shrug, staring at the table. I don’t answer him because the pit in my stomach begins to ache.
“Is there anything I can do?”
Nodding, I look up at him. “Yeah. There is. I need to stop at the liquor store on the way home.”
He frowns as he grabs the box cutter. “Merrick, you can’t be serious.”
“I’m very serious, Dash.”
Sighing, he shakes his head, sliding out the blade. “You shouldn’t drink alone.”
“It’s not like I’m going to call my mom to drink with me. I don’t want her pity. I just want to be alone.”
He just stares at me, so I say, “It’s either that, or take me to Oceanic. Pete’s there tonight. He’ll give me free booze.”
Dash frowns at me in bewilderment. “You’re not willing to drink at home with your mom, but you’ll drink in public at the bar where your brother works?”
“Yeah. I need to get drunk. Please, Dash. I can’t think about him anymore. He’s leaving to go back to Philadelphia. Shit.” I bite my lip, concentrating on that pain, instead of the one crushing my heart.
“Merrick, it’s okay. You don’t have to be alone. I’ll drink with you.”
“You have to drive.”
“I’ll crash on your couch.”
I shake my head. “You can sleep in my bed.”
He drops the knife and glares at me. “Oh, wait. No, no, no. Hell, no. I’m not going there. I can’t do that—”
Giving him a sour frown, I explain, “I don’t sleep there. I sleep on the couch.”
Dash breathes a huge sigh and picks up the knife. “Shit. You scared me.”
“After our fight in the kitchen, he wouldn’t care if I slept with a random guy at the bar, anyway.”
He stops the knife over the tape and says, “That’s entirely false. You shouldn’t be drinking to numb the pain, Kat. You’ll start needing to do it all the time.”
“Right now, I don’t care. I can barely function as it is. He’s in my mind, my heart, and my soul. I can smell him everywhere I go. It’s driving me crazy. Every time I turn around or walk into a room, something reminds me of him and I have to cause myself physical pain, just so my heart doesn’t ache.”
He cuts the box open and sets down the knife. “Merrick, go talk to him.”
“I can’t. I’m sure he already left.”
Dash looks at his watch and frowns. “Yeah. Probably to get ready for tomorrow. He has to wear a tie. Sounds fun.”
Imagining what he looks like wearing it, reminding me of how he had to in school on game days, brings tears to my eyes. I hurriedly turn away from Dash, but my gasp snags his attention anyway.
“Kat.”
I shake my head at the wall. “He’s gone.”
From behind me, he says, “He’ll be back.”
Again, I shake my head. “No. He’s really gone. From me. Oh, God.” I lean back onto the table, but my legs can’t hold me up, and I sink to the floor.
“Kat!” He rushes around the table and kneels in front of me. “Shit! Are you okay?”
Putting my face onto my balled hands, I mournfully whisper, “Fuck, this hurts. I love him, Dash.”
“I know you do.”
I cry harder and amongst my sobbing, I say, “When I told him I’m in love with him, he called me a bitch and a liar.”
“Jesus. I didn’t know that.”
Sniffing, I nod and peer up at him. “So, please, Dash. I need to forget how I feel, and how he doesn’t. Give me that much. If you won’t help me, then I’ll find another way.”
His blue eyes examine my sadness and he sighs. “Okay, Kat. Let’s finish this box and I’ll take you to get what you need.”
He couldn’t possibly get me what I need, because that’s on his way to Philadelphia.
After stopping at Dash’s apartment for a change of clothes, he took me to the liquor store, as promised, where I grabbed two bottles of flavored vodka, needing to get drunk fast. Dash didn’t buy anything different, saying he’d just drink some of mine.
Pouring Sunkist into two glasses, I add the whipped cream vodka for an easy Creamsicle drink, handing one to Dash and then taking a seat on the couch.
From the chair next to the couch, he sets down his glass, and I ask, “Aren’t you drinking it?”
“I just took a sip. It’s good. I’m pacing myself.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “Just a good thing to do.”
“Not me.” I down half of my drink, instantly feeling a buzz, but needing more.
I finish the rest of my drink in three more gulps and Dash says, “Slow down. Shit.”
“Nope.” I get up and go into the kitchen, and while he looks at his phone, I grab the bottle of vodka, sipping straight from the bottle.
When I return to the living room, feeling less pain, Dash is still playing with his phone. I ask, “Is it…him?”
He shakes his blond head. “My mother.”
“Oh. Did we do a good job unpacking?”
Dash looks up, smiling. “Yeah. Stellar.”
I roll my eyes and he sets his phone on the end table, asking, “What’s your mom going to think when she sees my car in your driveway overnight
?”
Pushing back the curtain, but not seeing any lights on at her apartment, I shrug. “I guess I’ll have to do damage control tomorrow.”
“She’ll probably think I’m some kind of rebound.”
I prop my feet up on the coffee table and mutter into my glass, “Whatever.”
Dash leans forward and picks up the remote from the table. “Let’s find a movie.”
“A comedy.”
“Definitely.”
Observing his still-full glass, I order, “Now, drink.”
Reaching for his glass, he takes a sip and promptly returns it to the table. “There. Delicious.”
“You have a lot of catching up to do.”
“I’ll get there.”
“Not at my rate.”
“Uh, no. That’s true.”
“Drink all of it, Dash.”
“I will, but—”
“Do it!”
He sighs, giving me that weird look again, before picking up his glass. “Fine.” He easily downs his drink. Tilting his head to the side, he asks, “Better?”
I sloppily grin. “It’s a start.”
I get up for refills, taking his glass with me. I focus on pouring the drinks, which seems to be harder to do, but I’m glad that it is.
When I come back to the living room, Dash nods to the couch. “So, what’s with the arrangement here? You’re bed too lumpy?”
Taken off guard by that question, my hands start to shake, so I put my glass on the table as I sit. “Our fight. That’s where I blabbed I’m in love with him, and then he called me…”
“You were in your room during your fight?”
I glance over at him with tears and booze making him fuzzy. “Yes. We were fucking when I told him.”
“Jesus,” he mutters, probably horrified that I am so forthcoming about that moment, but the alcohol does somewhat dull my senses, just not enough yet. He clears his throat. “Sounds like some fight. I thought you two weren’t going to have sex anymore?”
“We never stopped, really. And with our fight, it just happened. One minute we were yelling at each other, the next, we were kissing.”
Dash stares, maybe stunned, and I drop my gaze to the floor. I whisper, “I told him, and I shouldn’t have. He was so angry. He called me a bitch and a liar, saying we had been together all this time, but I didn’t notice, and we were over. He said I can’t be trusted because I’ve been in love and married before.” My lips quiver and I purse them, but it only makes me jittery everywhere else. “I told him he’s my only love.” I glance up at Dash and say, “He’s the only one I’ve ever been in love with like this. No one compares to Jared. I’ve always compared them to him.”
Dash glances around the room, as if he’s looking for an escape, but he eventually looks at me again, with the pity I wanted to avoid from my mother.
I wipe my cheeks and say, “He’s apologized for saying those things, but I screwed up all over the place. I thought I was helping him see and feel things with me, yet I was the one who needed schooled. He said I wrecked us. I didn’t know us existed.” I sobbingly inhale, and shake as I give in to the sorrow I feel through the alcohol haze.
Dash moves over to the couch, putting his arm around me. “I’m so sorry, Kat.”
“I miss him, Dash. I don’t want to be without him. These years have been rough, and then he was delivered right to my mom’s new house, as if destiny stepped in to fix a horrendous wrong.”
Dash squeezes me to him. “You know what I’ve told you.”
I shake my head, my hair brushing his chin. “I can’t imagine being without him again, but if I give up everything and move to Philadelphia, what will happen? Would we have a relationship again, or would I run into him, seeing him with other women? Even if it’s a huge city, I can’t bear that thought.” I sniff, and he rubs my shoulder.
He whispers, “I don’t know, Kat. I wish I knew.”
I lean my head onto his shoulder, and he holds me as I sob. I thought the alcohol would numb me, but it has only achieved the opposite effect.
Leaning forward, I pick up my glass and hurriedly down it, hoping it finally takes me under, and I can forget about Jared, until I have to start all over again.
As Dash starts the car, I squint my eyes from the early evening sun, and move down the visor. He says, “I’d ask how class was, but I can only guess.”
“It was fabulous,” I dryly state.
He turns onto the main road and looks over at me. “I’m hungry. How about we get some takeout and go somewhere?”
I glance to the dark sky through the side window. “It’s going to rain.”
“It’ll be dry. What do you want to eat? We could get Arby’s, Wendy’s, Boston Market—”
“Not Wendy’s. Subway works.” Not that I’ll eat it.
He smiles. “Okay.”
I grumble at his smile, “You didn’t even get drunk last night. I shouldn’t be hanging around you. Deserter.”
“I said I’d drink with you. I had a drink.”
I roll my eyes. Unlike him, I drank until I didn’t remember. Dash said I eventually passed out on the couch, which I discovered this morning when I awoke with the blanket over me. I slept heavily. No dreams. No nightmares. No crying. No pain.
Pulling into the lot and parking, Dash asks, “What kind of sandwich you want?”
I shrug. “Chicken with mustard and pickles.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope.”
When he leaves, I check my phone, but nothing. No messages or missed calls. Is he even thinking about me? Missing me? Or has he already moved on? I know I never will. I never have.
After eons of staring at my dark phone, the car door opening jars me to seeing Dash climbing in. He hands me the tray with our drinks, and sets the plastic bag with our sandwiches on the console between us.
I ask, “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere that might make you smile.”
“Not your mom’s shop, is it?”
He laughs. “If that’s your happy place, I guess.”
I shake my head. “No more flowers.”
“I concur, Merrick.”
I continue to slyly stare at my phone, waiting for it to light up with Ball and Chain, having not changed his name, but nothing, its dark silence only depressing me more.
When we slow and take a sharp turn, I finally look up to see the familiar parking lot. I whisk my head to Dash. “Why are we here?”
“It’s one of your favorite places, and it’s a dreary day. You said you and I should come back here.” Dash bobs his head from side to side. “Well, we’re here.”
When he parks, and before I can protest, he grabs the bag of sandwiches and gets out of the car. Damn it.
Growling to myself, I diffidently take the drinks and follow him to the walking path, hating that he didn’t run this by me first. Looking around, the lot is nearly empty, apart from a couple other cars. I sigh and trail behind him to the large gazebo.
Crossing over the footbridge, I glower at the place where Jared and I had lain in the grass, gazing at the clouds. This used to be my favorite place.
Dash stops, giving me a concerned look, before asking, “What’s wrong? This is a happy place for you, I thought.”
“I would’ve said no to coming here.”
“Why? It’s all The Sound of Music and everything, especially if it rains.” Jared was my Rolfe. Always.
Moping, I walk ahead of Dash and up the stairs to the empty gazebo. Thank God, we’re not inundated with a bunch of people. At least they have the good sense to stay away from my bad mood.
As Dash comes up the stairs behind me, I hear the plastic bag rustling with him, while I carry the drinks over to a bench along the back of the gazebo. Setting them down, I sigh. The heaviness of being here weighs too much on me. The cloud watching, the bench walking, the kiss I wanted to give him, and his erection I noticed, causing me to fight every urge in me not to grab onto it. God.
&
nbsp; I close my eyes and say, “I can’t be here.”
“I’ll take you home then.”
Holy fuck.
I whirl around to see Jared standing at the top of the stairs, and my breathing ceases.
Holy fuck.
I’m a statue, seeing him, especially wearing a light green, long-sleeved dress shirt with a gray-and-black-swirled tie, and gray pants. Another moment I feel so inadequate.
Blinking several times, I cross my arms over my faded shirt with Ocean City emblazoned across it, and look around for Dash. When he’s nowhere to be seen, I hoarsely say, “Dash. Where’s Dash?”
Jared shakes his head as his concerned gaze pins me to the spot. “He didn’t leave.”
I want to run to Jared. I want to slap him. I want to kiss him. I want to hate him. I want to love him.
I state, “I didn’t see your car.”
He nods to the left. “It’s at the pavilion.”
“Oh.” I nervously shift and look to the grounds nearby, searching for Dash, but I don’t see him. Turning back to Jared, my heart lurches when I ask, “Why are you here, Jared?”
“I’d say trick-or-treat, but it’s a little early for that.” His smile is trifling, while his eyes are uncertain as they sweep over me.
I strive to remain unaffected by his presence. “If you’re here to fight with me, then no, I’m not doing it.”
“I’m not. I promise.”
“I have a hard time believing you.”
He nods and brushes his hand through his shorter hair. “I know, but I had to take the chance with you.”
My eyes widen. “So, I’ve been set up? Dash was only pretending to help me, just so you could show up here to… To what?” I swallow, pushing down the sobs, and inhale. “I said I’m not fighting anymore.”
“Not set up. Last night, I told Dash I needed to talk to you. He said only if he were present. I negotiated that. He’s here, but I told him to keep his distance.”
Despite my efforts, tears well and I bite my lip to rid them. When they somewhat subside, I whisper, “I can’t fight anymore. It hurts too much and I have nothing left for you to break.” He probably could find the thread from which I’m dangling, and cut that.
Jared slowly walks to me as he says, “I’m not here to hurt you. Dash is still around, and if I say the wrong things, he’ll yank you out of here so fast.”
The Keys to Jericho Page 62