It had worked out for the most part. The one thing that seemed to still be a mystery was who the hell Hayden’s dad was. He called Rick ‘Dad’ because he had been the only man in that position the kid’s whole life, but he wasn’t his real dad. When it came down to it, whoever it was that Iris had let hit it raw four years ago wasn’t important. There was a difference between being a father and being someone’s daddy. It was the same with Iris and our dad. She had called him ‘Dad’ as long as I could remember even though another dude was her biological father.
I didn’t know whether Mom knew who Hayden’s dad was, because I didn’t. Iris had never told me. Maybe it was something she was ashamed about, but she didn’t have to be. It wasn’t that big a deal. I still thought she should have been picking up child support, not that she needed it, especially with Rick around, but because of the principle. If you sired a child, and you were doing no part of the actual child rearing, paying a couple of hundred dollars in child support was literally the least you could do. The least.
She gasped, and I looked over at her. Her smile was wide and her eyes wider.
“You got a match!” she said.
“Shit, what did I tell you, Iris?” I asked.
“What should I tell him?”
“Nothing. Put the phone down.”
She had stood and was walking towards the living room with the phone, tapping something into it. I abandoned my chips and soda on the counter and followed her.
“Iris, I swear to God,” I said, walking faster. For a pregnant woman, she moved fast. She weaved around the furniture making me chase her.
“Do you have plans tomorrow night?” she said, scuttling back into the kitchen.
“Iris, don’t you dare!” I said to her. She quickly put the phone down on the kitchen counter and retreated back to where she had been at the dining table. I picked it up and stared in horror at the at least four message long exchange she had had with this guy that she had matched me with without my consent.
“Oh my God, what did you do?”
I read the messages. She had gone right in with the request to meet for drinks. No preamble, no small talk. No complimenting each other on our pictures. Nothing. Worse still, they were for Saturday night, as in tomorrow night.
“Iris. I can’t believe you did this. I can’t go. I’m canceling.”
“No, you can’t. How sketchy would it look if you agreed to go on a date with this guy then turned around five minutes later and canceled?”
“He’s a stranger. You and Rick met in real life; you can’t just go on dates with people you meet on apps. You have to get to know them first and meet them in a public area in the daytime. Iris, this guy might be a serial killer.” This guy. What the hell was his name even? I checked. It was Patrick. I hated that name. Patrick was the name of the guy who would send you ugly dick pics without you asking him for them.
“I’m trying to get you laid. You are welcome. You have drinks tomorrow night at seven.”
“I sure don’t. I didn’t agree to any of this. If you really want to, you can go meet Patrick at seven.”
“I’m trying to help you, Ollie. When was the last time you were in a relationship? When was the last time you let someone just buy you dinner because there are guys who that’s really all they want to do? Even if it doesn’t turn into anything real, at least you’ll have done something other than sat at home all weekend alone.”
“I have friends,” I said accusatorily.
“None who are having sex with you,” she shot back.
“We aren’t having this conversation,” I said, picking my chips and Coke up.
“If the time bugs you, just say you are busy at night and reschedule for drinks earlier in the day, or coffee. Just go on this one date, Ollie. Please.”
“I’m not talking to you,” I said over my shoulder as I walked away and headed up the stairs. How dare she. She even didn’t know who she was talking to. How could she just submit me for a date without even asking whether I liked the guy first? I checked his profile when I got to my room. I had a stack of empty moving boxes for my shit for when I finally found somewhere else to live. They took up space, but they were a gentle reminder daily that I needed to get my shit together and move out.
Patrick had his age and height in his bio, twenty-five and six feet flat, and his first picture was of him at the Grand Canyon. His shirt was off in that one. He had a nice tan, but his delts could use some work. His other pictures were nice. Group shots he had limited to just one, and there was one with him and a dog in it. He had blue eyes, and his hair was brown. Cute. He was smiling in at least one photo and seemed to have all his teeth. He wasn’t really my type, but I didn’t really know whether I had a type. A couple of messages from him had come in since I had gotten upstairs.
He was saying he had never planned to meet up with someone so soon after matching and that he was excited to see me. He had also asked for my number so we could text message instead of talking over the app.
He was keen.
How about we met, and we made sure we weren’t catfishing each other before he started making requests like that? Was it such a big deal though? What was the worst that could happen? I knew, but what were the chances of it, really? I sent the number in a message and told him that I wanted something earlier in the day. His responses were coming through immediately. I had the brief thought that he was still living with his parents, messaging me while he sat on the toilet, but pushed it aside. Patrick might be nice.
Iris had just been trying to help. Since that was the case, she would be the person I would call if I needed an escape route from the date. I would go. I would give it half an hour, and if it started going south, I was out.
The next evening, after errands and an unsuccessful afternoon spent looking at apartments I didn’t want to live in, I got in my car and started it. It was four-thirty which gave me plenty of time to get to the coffee shop Patrick and I were meeting at at five. I had decided on a casual look. A heeled ankle boot and a dress that came to just above the knee. A jacket over that to tell him that he wasn’t getting all the goods on the first date.
I drove slowly because I had plenty of time. I was using the GPS on my phone to get me to where we were meeting. East Sac wasn’t really my neck of the woods. I didn’t have anything to mount the phone on so I had it in my lap so I wouldn’t get pulled over for using it. My phone would keep going dark, which was annoying. Trying to turn it back on, I knocked it between my knees onto the floor of the car.
“Shit,” I said, trying to reach it. I slowed down. If I was moving slow enough, I could duck down and grab it. It would be fine. I surveyed the traffic before quickly ducking down to reach for the phone. I was down there for a second. It was only a second, but that was all it took. I heard the bang and shot up, hitting the breaks. Someone had hit the right side of my car. I had hit someone with the right side of my car.
I froze for a second, feeling like time had stood still as well. I tore at the handle of my door to make sure the guy was okay. It wasn’t another car, it was a motorcycle, and it was on its side on the ground. The guy wasn’t dead—thankfully. He was still on his feet, pulling his helmet off.
“Oh my God… Oh my God, are you okay?” I asked. His back was to me.
“Am I okay? You fucked up my bike, asshole,” he said, turning around. Right then it was like the circuitry of my entire mind just shorted out when I saw who the guy on the bike had been.
“Liv?” he said.
I parted my lips, but nothing came out. It was him.
It was Alex.
4
Alexander
“Liv?” I said. I could hardly believe I was saying it. It had been years since I had said her name out loud. “Olivia?” I said again when she didn’t say anything.
She looked fucking stunned. She looked like she had just seen a ghost.
“Alexander,” she said. Fuck. That voice. It was her. She had never called me ‘Alexander’ in my life,
but I didn’t care. I didn’t even care that my bike was still laying on its side on the road. The honking from someone trying to get past us snapped me out of it. I tore my eyes away from her long enough to pick my bike up and put the stand down.
I had been expecting some greasy asshole who was trying to eat and drive at the same time to come out of the car. Not her. I hadn’t been expecting her to come out of anywhere. I had no idea she still lived here.
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” she said, nervously looking down and moving her hair behind her ear. It took me a second to realize what she was talking about. Right. The bike.
“Where were you going in such a hurry?” I asked her. She looked nice. Really nice. Like she was on her way somewhere. Her hair was straight and lighter than I remembered it being when we were in high school. It had been black back then. Her face looked the same. Perfect and small and pretty, like she had delicate bird bones. She was so, dainty. Her eyes were wide and bright, but right then, were filled with what read as terror. I hoped it wasn’t. I was thrilled to see her. She wasn’t happy to see me?
“Uhm… I was going to meet someone,” she said. She really didn’t need to say the rest because I could see it on her face. She looked guilty. She had a date.
“You’re going on a date?” I asked, unable to stop myself.
“Alex… I’m so sorry about your bike-”
“No, forget the bike. Are you going to meet a guy right now?”
“What’s it to you?” she asked.
Oh shit. She really was.
“You’re not going anywhere. We’re waiting for the cops to get here.”
“What?”
“I hope you have insurance,” I said to her.
Was I being mean? It wasn’t mean to make her wait for the cops. It was only right. She had just run over me. I was fine, but that didn’t mean my bike was. I really didn’t want her going on that date. Even if it wasn’t a date she was going on, I was just seeing her again; I didn’t want her to leave already. I thought she would have moved somewhere after college, like LA or San Francisco.
Hearing that she was going to meet someone just set me off. Who was he? I didn’t like it. I wasn’t just going to let her go that easily. Again.
“Alex, I’ll give you all my contacts and stuff, whatever you want, but I really have to leave.”
“No way. You were totally out of line. I had the right of way.”
“What, you’re going to sue me now?”
“I wasn’t going to, but now that you mention it, I might,” I said to her. Her jaw dropped.
“You can’t be serious; you’re fine. You didn’t even hit the ground!”
“Have you ever tried to have a Harley repaired Liv? It ain’t cheap. I hope you’ve got a good liability cover, babe,” I said. The last word just slipped out. Force of habit. She made this little sound of frustration and walked over to her car. I thought she was about to get in and drive away, but instead, she just slumped against the hood. She put her face in her hands, and I froze, thinking she was going to cry. I walked over to her.
“Hey, Liv. I’m-” I reached for her shoulder with my hand, and she flinched away like I was on fire and she didn’t want to get burned. That was… different. And lame. Why didn’t she want me to touch her? I wasn’t grabbing her. Why’d she do that, like I had leprosy or something? I put my hands up.
“Okay, I won’t touch you.”
She looked at me like I was a stranger.
“I’m sorry. It’s just… this is not the first conversation I imagined having with you after years of not seeing each other,” she said.
“Me neither,” I admitted. “I didn’t think you still lived here.”
“I didn’t know you came back.”
I had so many things to say to her. So many things that I wanted to ask and so many things I wanted her to tell me but I couldn’t think of any of them. It was a bad time. She was looking at me like she had no idea who I was, and like talking to me was the last thing she even wanted to do.
“I got back a little while ago.”
“And you didn’t want to drop by and say hi?” she said. There was a smile on her face, she was kidding, but she wasn’t kidding. That was a shot. I felt it all bubble up. The shit, and garbage that had been building since we had broken up. All that stuff I had managed to more or less keep to myself for the last five years.
“The last time I tried, you wanted nothing to do with me,” I said.
“What?”
“Before I left, I tried to see you.”
“Before you left? Was this before or after you told me you never wanted to see me again?”
“Livvy. Your mom-”
“You spoke to my mom?” she asked. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. Now wasn’t the time or place to start rehashing the past.
“We can’t talk about this right now,” I said.
“Just call the cops then, so I can leave. Shit, I have to call Patrick,” she said. It was probably supposed to be to herself, but she said it loud enough for me to hear her too.
Patrick. Her date, apparently.
Who was that guy? I didn’t know him, but I hated him already. I watched her take her phone out and take a few steps away and turn her back like she didn’t want me listening. She didn’t owe me anything, but did she have to do it right there? Did she really have to have a conversation with her new boyfriend when I was right next to her?
We had… I had said some shitty things to her the last time we had spoken, and I was an idiot if I thought that she was really a lonely spinster somewhere. Just because she had moved on with her life, didn’t mean I had to like it. I didn’t. I didn’t want her to have moved on—because I hadn’t. I thought I had, but then I saw her again and now this. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to do everything and nothing at the same time. I wanted to yell at her because I was mad, but I wanted to kiss her because it was her.
After almost five fucking years, it was her.
She finished on the phone before I did. She was waiting for me leaning against her hood. Her eyes were down, and she was kicking the ground with the toe of her boot, scuffing it a little.
“I’m sorry for ruining your date,” I said to her. I wanted to say something. Anything, because anything was better than nothing. The tension was so thick, I knew she wanted to be anywhere but with me just then.
“It wasn’t a date. It was drinks,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t even want to go in the first place.”
Good, I thought.
“Why?” I asked her.
“Iris put me up to it. It was dumb.”
Iris. Her sister. That was someone I had thought about a lot more than you would think I should have been. She had been pregnant when I had left. Asking about her would have been polite, but I really didn’t give a rat’s ass about that bitch.
“Did you call the cops? They should be here by now,” she said.
“Shit, you wanna get away from me that bad?” I asked her.
“Alex, I can’t do this with you right now.”
“Why not? No time like the present, right? Let’s talk.”
“You made yourself crystal clear the last time we did,” she said. “We have nothing to say to each other.”
“I think we do,” I said, turning to face her. She didn’t do the same. “A lot can change in five years.”
She turned her face and looked at me.
“A lot has changed. How about we keep it like that?”
The police pulled up right then, giving her a perfect excuse to walk away. I kept looking over at her while they took the details of the incident. It was not serious, and the bike was probably still going to run; I didn’t need to get it moved, but at least this meant she and I would have to be in contact for a little while, depending on how we decided to deal with it. When we were done, I walked over to my bike to look it over.
“Hey,” I turned and saw her walking up to me. “Here.” She ha
nded me a small card; it was her business card. “I’m going to use the police report to make the claim with my insurance company. Just call me, so they can judge the extent of the damage, and we can get your bike fixed.” Her voice was robotic and aloof, the way tellers at the bank spoke to you.
“That’s it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re going to give me this and walk away? Again?”
“I didn’t go anywhere. You walked away from me. You put as many miles between us as you could.”
“But I’m here now Liv. You are the one who can’t wait to leave.”
“Whatever happened between us happened, but it was in the past, and that is where it should stay. I’ll have contacted my insurance company by Monday. I’m doing all this because it’s the responsible thing to do. Don’t make me regret giving you that card.”
She started walking away, back towards her car. The damage to her car wasn’t too bad, just some denting in the front, near her wheel. The paint was a little damaged too.
“Olivia,” I called to her. She turned and looked at me. I didn’t say anything, because what I wanted to say, I couldn’t say there. She sighed before she turned again, got in her car and drove away.
I had been on my way to the bank after work, but because of what had happened, it was probably closed by now. I didn’t have anything to do that evening; I could have just gone home. I didn’t. I went to Colin’s place. It was his place with his family. Colin had made our mother proud, marrying a pretty girl while he was still young and popping out two kids with her already. Because he lived with them, it was always a crapshoot going to see him, because kids were hard. They were sometimes not home because they were at Chuck E. Cheese or the waterpark or something.
He had to be here today though because he had a punch with his name on it. I rang the doorbell a couple times before his wife—short, pretty girl name Roberta—opened the door. I always called her his wife. She was my sister-in-law, but we didn’t have that much in common. We didn’t have sisters growing up, and she and I just didn’t click. We weren’t mean to each other; we were just civil.
Alex (Heartbreakers & Troublemakers Book 3) Page 3