One More Chance: A Second Chance Romance

by Sinclaire, Roxy

  Chapter 16

  Ethan

  The doorbell rang and snapped us out of our Sunday afternoon bliss with a sharp, high- pitched noise. We were curled up on the couch enjoying a treat of hot chocolate and watching movies. Opal still spent most of her time at work, so it was nice to savor any time we had together. We looked at each other for a moment.

  “You expecting anyone?” I asked her with a frown.

  She thought about it for a moment. “Mia was meant to be around, but she’s not finishing work until later…” she responded as she put her cup down.

  I didn’t expect any visits either. I put my cup down and went to stand up, but Opal shook her head.

  “I’ll get it,” she told me as she rushed to the door.

  I stood up and walked up to the hallway door, so I could see who it was. I watched Opal open the door and freeze. I couldn’t see past her, but I did notice her visibly tensing.

  The visitor said something I couldn’t quite distinguish and Opal glanced over at me before moving to let them in without a word. I frowned, as it was unusual for her to be that stark. Even if she wasn’t keen on some of the people that visited our little nest, she was always friendly and polite.

  Then I realized who had just stepped through the door, and her reaction made a lot more sense. Even before looking at her face, I’d recognize those mannerisms anywhere. Claire. I took a sharp breath. I thought her presence would jolt me more, but it didn’t. I no longer held a grudge over what had happened, but I didn’t exactly want to hang out with her, either.

  I felt indifferent. Her reddish-blonde hair, usually immaculately put up in whatever up-do was fashionable at the time, seemed to be quickly put up in a simple bun, with locks sticking out of it, and her clothes looked as if she’d put them on in a hurry, rather than carefully selecting them as she always had in the past. The most shocking of all, she wasn’t wearing any makeup.

  “C-can I come in?” she asked in an uncharacteristically sheepish tone.

  I nodded slowly and let her pass into the living room. Opal let out a long breath.

  “I’ll make some coffee,” she said shortly.

  I could see the tension on her face. Claire followed me into the living room and stood for a moment until I offered her a seat on the couch.

  “How have you been?” she asked quietly. The question on its own was innocent enough, but it irritated me.

  I looked at her briefly. “I don’t think it’s important here. As you can see, I’m doing better, though. Yourself?” I told her calmly. I didn’t want to share anything that had gone on in my life. Not with her.

  She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Ethan… I’m…” she began, but I silenced her with a gesture.

  “I don’t need your apologies, Claire. I’ve moved on, and you had plenty of time to apologize and make amends,” I told her firmly.

  Opal brought our coffee in and withdrew to the bedroom with a concerned look on her face. I reassured her with a smile and turned back to Claire, who sat quietly, looking at her feet. She looked like she was about to burst into tears.

  “I couldn’t bring myself to face you. I know what we did wasn’t fair to you, wasn’t right…how could I come and see you? I knew you wouldn’t trust me and…”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “What you’re saying is… you fucked up and didn’t have the guts to face the consequences,” I told her slowly.

  She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something in her defense and closed it again.

  I carried on, “You had your reasons for what happened with Martin. I don’t know them, and I don’t want to know them. It’s in the past. You’re right; I don’t trust you. Not after what you did. Maybe I would have some form of sympathy, somewhere, if you had acted like a friend afterward. Like you cared about me at all,” I added.

  She took a deep breath. “I did care, Ethan. I still do. I just…” she trailed off.

  “Couldn’t face it. You said,” I pointed out.

  She looked away, and I decided to ask another question.

  “And how are things between you and Martin?” I asked, while realizing that whatever answer she gave me – held no significance for me whatsoever. She looked down again.

  “Well, we went out for a few months...” she stammered out.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “You split, and you realized that you threw six years of yours and my life out the window for a quick fuck?” I asked her bluntly.

  She tensed, and then glared at me. “It wasn’t like that, Ethan. I just realized how much I still love you and how much I regret what happened between us. I miss you.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “You miss me? You regret? You’re not regretting doing anything. You’re regretting getting caught. You cheated on me with my best friend, you disappeared when I needed you the most, and then, when you got bored, you dropped him like a hot potato and hoped to crawl back into my bed,” I pointed out. I didn’t even bother to raise my voice at her.

  Her lip began to tremble as she shook her head. “It’s not like that at all… I’ve regretted it ever since it happened and…” she began, but I laughed again.

  “That’s specifically why you stayed with Martin and didn’t as much as send a card when I was in the hospital. Makes perfect sense,” I told her sarcastically.

  Tears rolled down her face, but she wiped them swiftly. “No. I wanted to make it work with Martin. I knew I’d already hurt you; I didn’t want him hurt as well, but it didn’t work out,” she told me quickly.

  I knew she was hiding something and I knew it was something important, but I also knew that there was very little I could do to drag it out of her. More to the point, I didn’t want to make the effort for her and didn’t want to waste my Sunday listening to her sob story or whatever else she had to say. Curiosity, however, got the better of me.

  “And why exactly did things go belly up?” I asked her.

  She tensed again. “Just didn’t,” she told me sharply.

  I knew she was lying about something somewhere. I sighed. Not much more than a year ago, I would’ve assumed she had her reasons, but now… I didn’t trust her and wanted to know the truth, not just her side of a half-truth, regardless I didn’t ask. I wanted her out of my living room as soon as possible.

  I didn’t feel any hatred or even dislike for her. I just didn’t feel like it was a good idea for her to stay any longer. Before I had a chance to say anything more, however, she looked around nervously.

  “I…I better go,” she whispered. I stood up.

  “I guess you’re right. Bye, Claire,” I told her.

  As soon as the door closed behind her, Opal reappeared from the bedroom. Her features were pinched with concern and something else, perhaps anger? I pulled her into my arms.

  “What did she want?” she asked softly as she buried her face in my hair.

  I sighed and explained the conversation as I cleaned up the coffee table. As I spoke, Opal’s eyes widened. She listened carefully, and then made us some more hot chocolate. After I’d explained, Opal seemed lost in thought. A few times she looked as if she couldn’t decide whether to say something or not. I could tell something was bothering her just by the way she chewed her lip and played with her hair.

  “What is it, O?” I asked her.

  She chewed on her lip some more before turning to me. “I think you should speak to Martin,” she muttered.

  I frowned and looked at her in confusion. “Why?” I asked slowly. The mere idea made me feel uneasy, but it was Opal who suggested it. Why would I not trust her judgment?

  She took a deep breath. “You’ve lost a lot, Ethan. I don’t know how you feel about Martin, and I know you probably don’t want to see him ever again, but he was your closest friend since freshman year and I have a feeling that whatever went on with him and Claire might shed some light on things. She took a lot away from you. Don’t let her take anything more,” she told me.

  I pondered her words in
silence for a moment. “I’ll think about it,” I promised her. The idea seemed ridiculous, but I knew she had a valid point. No matter how angry I still was, I did miss Martin’s company and sense of humor, and he had been there for me more than anyone else since Opal. Even more than Claire.

  After my mind going back and forth on the matter a lot, I finally decided to get in touch with Martin a few days later. He picked up the phone after the first ring, almost as if he’d expected my call. His voice was quiet and timid, he sounded tired and not in the best of places. After a bit more contemplation, I invited him over. He hesitated but agreed.

  When he walked through the door I couldn’t quite hide the surprise I felt He looked like he’d lost weight, he was pale, and his eyes were lined with dark circles as if he hadn’t slept well for a very long time. He glanced at me, and I could see the relief practically go through him.

  “I am so glad to see you on your feet,” he said without so much as a hello.

  I suppressed the knee-jerk reaction to tell him to go to hell and invited him in. Opal put two beers in front of us and retreated to the bedroom, giving us space to talk. For a while, we both sat there in silence, staring at our drinks. Finally, Martin spoke.

  “I’m sorry,” he told me simply.

  Unlike Claire’s excuse of an apology, this one was direct and clear, there was no sob story, but I could see in his eyes that he meant it. I contemplated what I was about to say for a moment. Martin was never a good liar when asked directly, so I knew I’d be able to get the truth out of him one way or another. I struggled to trust him, but I knew that I would regret it deeply if I didn’t at least try to hear him out.

  “I just want to know the truth. Nothing can change the past, but I need to…know,” I explained.

  He sighed and took a sip of his beer. “Ask,” he said quietly.

  I took a deep breath as I wondered where would be the best place to start. I had a million questions, and I couldn’t figure out which one I found most pressing. I started at the beginning.

  “How long had you been sleeping with Claire before I walked in on you?” I asked bluntly.

  He sighed. “Not long, a few weeks,” he told me without hesitation.

  I nodded slowly, trying not to focus on the fact that both of them had hidden the truth for weeks.

  “How come you and she split?” I asked instead.

  Martin tensed visibly. “You probably don’t want to know,” he told me.

  I felt the color drain from my face, but decided to bite the bullet. “I do,” I told him firmly.

  He fell silent for a long while before letting out a deep breath and taking a long sip of his beer. I could tell that he was still pretty raw about the entire thing. Under other circumstances, I would have felt plenty of sympathy for him, but, right then, I just wanted to hear what he had to say for himself.

  “Claire, she fucking lied! A lot and often," he began.

  I could tell that this was hard for him, but, again, my sympathy was rather limited.

  Martin swallowed hard and carried on. “She told me that she went to see you at the hospital the night of the accident and that she was told in no uncertain terms that neither she nor I were welcome. She told me that Olivia threw her out. She told me she’s been trying to call you, Olivia, and Opal for months, but none of them would let her as much as speak to you.

  “She said she left the three of you countless voicemails, trying to get at least a sliver of an update on how you were, but got nowhere. She said that you wanted nothing to do with us and that it was best if we stayed away. She wouldn’t even let me send you a damn card,” he told me.

  I wasn’t sure what to believe, so I asked directly, “And how exactly did you find out?”

  Martin sighed. “Silly thing. I bumped into Olivia. I came over hoping to hear how you were and she, understandably so, blew up in my face. She told me that after all these months of silence from Claire, I had no right to ask and called both me and our ex some interesting names,” he explained.

  I remembered Opal mentioning in passing that her mom had run into Martin. She’d told me that Olivia did indeed have a go at him and that she was rather agitated by the encounter, but I still wasn’t sure what to believe.

  “I tried talking to her properly, but she wouldn’t listen. I still have the messages from Claire telling me about every time she supposedly went to the hospital trying to see you or got in touch with Olivia or Opal,” he added.

  I asked to see the messages, and, to my great shock, he did. All that time Claire was claiming that she did, in fact, care about my well being, while she barely even picked up the phone when she was called about my accident. I sniggered. I wanted to blame Martin for believing her, but I knew that, in his shoes, I’d have believed her too. Martin let out another long sigh.

  “I’ve known Claire for so long. It never crossed my mind that she would do something so…” He trailed off, unable to find the right word.

  That I could fully sympathize with. Martin and Claire had known each other since high school. He looked at me for a moment.

  “I know you don’t want anything to do with me anymore, and I get it. I just wish I could have helped you more in the last months.”

  I looked at Martin for a long while before responding. “I get it,” I told him. “What I don’t get is how you and Claire ended up in bed together.”

  Martin looked away. “I was a gullible idiot,” he told me bluntly.

  I frowned. Part of me thought this was best left unsaid, but a bigger part of me wanted to know. Curiosity won once again and I asked Martin, “What do you mean?”

  He sighed deeply and looked down. “Do you remember that argument you and Claire had about Lauren?” he asked me slowly.

  I nodded in agreement. Lauren was a receptionist at our company. A few months before I walked in on them, Claire and I had argued due to one of my work colleagues making a bad joke that implied that there was something more going on between Lauren and me.

  Martin sighed. “After that, Claire told me that you did, in fact, have an affair with Lauren. She made it sound as if you were mistreating her in general and eventually told me she was breaking up with you. She told me that she’d had feelings for me since high school. I believed her, like the idiot I am. She said she was leaving you because of everything that happened and begged me not to tell you that she’d said anything.”

  To my great surprise, I realized Martin was crying as he spoke. In all the years I’d known him, I’d only ever seen him cry once, maybe twice. I stayed quiet as I processed Martin’s words.

  He apologized again and again as we sat there sipping our beers. It was getting late, and, while I still didn’t feel like things were fine between us, I was happy to give him another chance. As we talked for a bit longer, the doorbell rang, and Opal rushed into the living room. She was looking a bit flustered, and I was somehow concerned.

  “I’m so sorry, Ethan. I completely forgot that I told Claire it was ok to drop by to pick up the handbag she left here last time,” she muttered.

  Martin and I exchanged glances, and I looked at Opal.

  “I’ll get the door,” I told her, and walked to the door with Claire’s designer handbag.

  Martin followed me slowly. I opened the door, and the look on Claire’s face when she saw him standing next to me told me more than any other words he or she could have said. I felt anger swell up inside me.

  I took a deep breath and passed her the bag. My self-control was wearing thin. She opened her mouth to say something, but, before she could, I looked straight into her blue-gray eyes.

  “You’re full of shit,” I told her and slammed the door shut.

  Martin, Opal, and I sat in the living room and chatted for a bit longer. By the time he left, I knew it would take time and a lot of effort on both our parts, but I wasn’t ready to give up on our friendship and decided to give it a second chance.

  That night I thought deeply about many things in my life and what
I wanted out of it. I was awake until the early hours of the morning, with Opal sleeping soundly and beautiful next to me. I knew exactly what I wanted from life, for the first time in my life.

  Chapter 17

  Opal

  I sat by the window of Ethan’s and my house, watching the wind gently sway the branches of a large tree opposite. In recent days, Ethan had seemed preoccupied.

  He seemed distracted and busy. We’d been living together for almost a year now. He and Martin seemed to have patched things up for the most part. I thought things were going great, then, all of sudden, Ethan changed. He grew quiet and seemed to avoid me most of the time. I became even more nervous when I walked in on him and Martin talking, and the conversation instantly ceased.

  I tried asking Martin whether he knew anything, but he just shrugged me off. I felt terrified at the thought of losing Ethan again. Whenever I spoke to him about his recent withdrawn attitude, he only reassured me that he was ok and that he was just stressed with work. Since he’d returned to his job a few months earlier, he had been working a bit too much. I sighed as I heard the door open and glanced over my shoulder to see Ethan. He kissed me on the cheek and wrapped his arms around me.

  “How was work?” I asked him, trying to sound more cheerful than I felt.

  He smiled at me. “Not bad," he told me as he kissed the top of my head.

  In his arms, for a moment I forgot my concerns and savored his touch. He kissed my neck and looked at me for a moment.

  “I have a table booked for the two of us, Martin, and Mia for Friday, at Chateau,” he told me.