by Ginger Scott
I’m starving, but I kind of want to stay in, spend a little time with Trevor in his bed—spend a little time erasing any remnant of my slip-up with Cody. But my stomach betrays me and growls the minute Trevor swings open the door. The sound makes him laugh, and he grabs my purse to hand it to me. “That’s a yes, then?” he chuckles.
“I guess so,” I say, a little embarrassed. I follow him out the door and hold onto his arm while he walks us down the hall to the bank of elevators. Everything here feels more important, more grown up, and seeing Trevor in this element brings out a whole new level of sexy. Unable to stop myself, I slide into him in the elevator and kiss him hard. He’s surprised at first, but reaches around to grab my thigh soon enough, pushing my back into the corner of the elevator. The ding halts our kiss and another couple joins us for the rest of the ride down. I slide my eyes to meet Trevor’s, and we both smirk.
He gets us a cab quickly, and we zip off to the monuments. I wore my heeled boots, and gray shirt-dress. I brought my long coat and am thankful. I feel the wind kick up from the curb as I climb out of the car and walk along the busy roadway to the Lincoln Memorial. There’s something about seeing these things in person that has me breathless. The history is powerful, but I think even more so I’m struck by the artistry—the fact that human hands can make something that is such a statement, so iconic, and so touching.
I wasn’t much for sculpting. I took one class in it at Western, but my hands were better built for pencils. Seeing something like this, close up, had me envious of those with the talent.
“Pretty amazing, huh?” Trevor says, reaching around me and pulling me into him. We both stand there and take it all in. It’s impossible to be in front of Lincoln’s legs, carved in white, and not feel it in your chest. “Come closer, you have to read it,” Trevor urges. I follow him at first, but stop when I hear my phone chirp with a message. I know it’s Caroline—she’s been texting a lot lately, on one of her highs. I’m just glad I’m hearing from her, so I’ve been answering them.
“Go ahead, I’ll catch up,” I say, waving my phone in front of me. Trevor knows the drill—he’s seen me communicate with my aunt like this numerous times, and I love that he understands how much easier it is.
I sit at one of the steps and squeeze my purse between my feet, pulling my phone into my lap to read.
Stopped by this morning for coffee. Realized you left… I totally forgot about your trip. Sorry I haven’t been around. And just…sorry.
Shit! I didn’t see this coming, but Cody’s text rips through me like a derailed freight train in a forest. I stare at his words for minutes, trying to understand the meaning. Why is he sorry? And why was he looking for me? Everything that I had neatly worked out in my head by the time I boarded the plane to come here came undone the second I checked my damn phone.
I stand up and curse myself for looking. Trevor is walking around a section of the building, taking in placards and reading through things on the guidebook he brought with us. He’s busy, and I’m thankful for these few seconds I have to process everything.
I’m not angry with Cody. We’ve both been avoiding each other. His avoidance made it easier for me to pretend we were both on the same page. But now seeing his text—knowing it’s lunchtime, on a Friday, and for no reason he came to look for me—has me a little confused.
I don’t know what to say to him, how to respond, so instead I tuck my phone neatly in my purse and catch up with Trevor. He’s quick to fill me in on some of the fun facts he’s uncovered about the monument. I force myself to listen, but my head isn’t here with him. No, my head’s in Ohio, wondering why Cody wants to come over for coffee.
As for my heart, it seems to be straddling a border; it’s trying to divide itself in half—one part logic and reason, the other part…I don’t know! Seconds ago, I was pretty sure my heart was here, but now I’m worried it’s in Ohio as well.
The sprinkles start to pick up. There’s a small bakery stand nearby with some umbrella seating. Trevor suggests we stop for a quick snack and some coffee. I laugh a little at his suggestion—coffee, just like Cody wanted—but not understanding the same irony I’m finding amusing, he just looks at me strangely.
The rain gets heavier the longer we sit. Eventually, we have to give up our sightseeing for the day and take a cab back home. My clothes are wet, and I’m shivering, so I lay claim on the hot shower the second we enter Trevor’s apartment. I’m nervous he’s going to offer to keep me company, but he’s distracted with a phone call from work.
I seem to be spending a lot of time in the shower lately—it clears my head, helps me think. Cody’s text is all I can think about. Or, more accurately, my response to his text is all I can think about. I make a mental list of pluses and minuses, remembering how right it felt when I got off the plane, how easy it was when I saw Trevor and fell into step with him here, in this city—this place where I have imagined myself with him ever since he mentioned his dreams.
On the other side, I have nothing but unknowns—risks. My experience with relationships is extremely limited. Before Trevor, there were a few kisses and bad dates—some dared party make-out sessions in high school, just to feel like I fit in. But the decision to be with Trevor—that always came easy. He fit everything on my wish list; he met all the criteria with his drive, his calmness, and his unwavering sense of responsibility. He was romantic and considerate, and he made me feel like I came from something. It was my little-girl fantasy all rolled up in a perfect, squeaky-clean package.
Cody. Cody is…
That was it—nothing but unknowns.
I know what he’s not—he’s not squeaky-clean. He’s not without tragedy or without trust issues, and he’s not going to leave Ohio. As much as I’m worried that’s where my heart is, I’m sure it’s where his is. Everything that grounds Cody is rolled up a few miles from the Appleton’s, in a garage in Willoughby. The things in life that make me want to run, seem to only make him want to stay and fight. And I’m not so sure I have that same fire in me.
By the time I exit the shower I have my mental game back in check, and I know what I have to do. I pull my phone out of my purse quickly and fire off a text.
I’m sorry, too. I can’t do this.
I breathe deeply the second it’s done.
Settled.
A decision feels good, and when I turn to see Trevor struggling to link his cufflinks in his white dress shirt, I am overcome with certainty that I’ve made the right move. Granted, it followed a laundry list of wrong ones, but I was sensible in the end.
With my towel wrapped tightly around my chest, I move toward him, and reach for his arms to help him. He smiles at me with the kind of look that says we’ll be doing this—me helping him dress, fix his tie, button his cuffs—for the rest of our lives.
Once his shirt is secured, he reaches his fingers into my wet hair and slides the strands from my face, pulling me close and kissing me softly on the forehead. I shut my eyes at his touch and breathe him in once more.
“You are good to me, you know?” he says, his lips still pressed to my head. I nod in response and reach around his body to hold him tightly. “I’m sorry I’m not there, but I can’t wait for you to join me here. I think you’ll be happy…we’ll be happy.”
I nod again and squeeze him tighter, buying into everything he’s saying. Somewhere in my mind, I knew it was coming, but despite the alarms in my head, my stomach still drops into my feet when Trevor slides down on one knee in front of me and reaches into his pocket.
Things are suddenly blurry, and my eyes are swimming in tears. I’m holding my hands over my mouth when he opens the box and shows me the gigantic diamond ring. I feel sick, my body almost on the verge of convulsing, but I manage to hold it all inside while he speaks.
“I bought this before I knew about the job here in Washington, and this isn’t exactly how I wanted to ask, but I just can’t wait any longer,” he says, his hands shaking with nerves as he pulls the silver ring f
rom the black velvet and holds it out for me between two fingers.
A ring. Such a simple thing—a piece of metal and a stone—it’s what I’ve wished for, for months. Yet staring down at it has me wishing it away. My mind is racing, and somewhere inside I’m rejecting this. I ignore the battle playing out inside my heart and act on autopilot, reaching forward so Trevor can take my hand.
What am I doing? I don’t know why I’m giving him my hand, so willingly, but it’s the right thing to do. I can’t imagine not giving him my hand. He slides the ring on my finger, and the metal is cold against my skin, the giant rock strange against my thin fingers. Suddenly my hands look like someone else’s entirely.
“I’m hoping you’re saying yes to me, Charlotte. I can’t think of anyone else that I’d rather have as a partner in this world. Will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?” Trevor’s eyes are anxious, his breathing still, and his mouth caught somewhere between a smile and surprise.
I’m no longer in control of myself. It happens so fast, but the “Yes” fleas my lips, and Trevor is spinning me in circles, my towel sliding to the floor. He carries me to the bed and kisses my body everywhere, devouring me in every possible way like I’m a cherished prize that he’s just won. For all of eternity.
I don’t feel when we make love. I don’t feel…anything. I’m not even sure that I breathe, and I don’t remember the last time my lungs were full. I’m starting to think that this is my new normal, how I’m going to exist for the rest of my life—numb.
I must be smiling, because Trevor’s smile doesn’t falter the entire night. He shares our news with the Sumners at the theater, and they hug me and congratulate us, and I smile and nod and say my lines. Such a happy moment—one of life’s most important—and I feel like I’ve just traveled three years in the past back to my father’s funeral. Everyone’s face is too close, people are laughing and smiling and toasting with wine at the after-party for the play. The music and chatter is mushing together in my ears, becoming this melded noise that has me wanting to escape.
I’m suffocating.
It’s only when I sit down to catch my breath and lean forward to put my head between my knees that Trevor notices something is off.
“Babe, are you okay?” he says, his hand warm on my back, but his touch repulsing me right now. I manage not to flinch and just reach up to pull my hair to the side.
“I think…I think maybe it’s the wine,” I lie. It’s not the wine. I’ve barely finished a glass, and I can hold my liquor. But I’m not about to tell Trevor his proposal has sent me into a life-altering panic attack from which I think I may never escape. No, I can pretend for him.
“Let’s get you home,” he says, reaching for my coat and purse, and pulling me up against his side. He’s so warm and familiar, and part of me relaxes for a moment. The cab ride is thankfully peaceful, Trevor stroking my hair while I lay my head on his shoulder.
He gives me privacy in the bathroom while I change for bed, and he doesn’t even balk at my quick goodnight as I turn out the lights. For the first time in hours, I’m breathing. Barely, but breathing. I’m clutching the blankets to my chest, facing the window away from him, and blurring the stripes of light that are bleeding into the room through his blinds. Trevor’s breathing has become quiet, and I start to relax even more, thinking that he’s asleep now, and I can worry openly on my own until the sun comes up.
“My dad helped me pick the ring,” he says, his voice a knife in my back. I shut my eyes tightly at his words, and my opposite hand reaches up instinctively and twists the ring from my finger, squeezing it—almost like I’m attempting to destroy it. I hate this ring. A small tear forms and slides down my cheek, and when I feel Trevor’s hand slide along my shoulder and back, I jerk.
“I’m sorry, were you asleep?” he asks, his voice close. I squeeze my eyes tight again.
“No, I’m awake,” I say. I’m short, and I know my tone is going to make him ask questions.
“Is something wrong? You sound…you seem angry,” Trevor says, almost a whisper. I’m sweating, and the lone tear on my face has now been joined by a few others. I sniffle a little and wipe my eyes dry, sucking in a deep breath as I push for courage.
“It’s your dad,” I begin shaking the second I start. I know this is one of those conversations that you can never erase. There are so many things racing through my head, but there was something about hearing that Jim was involved in Trevor’s proposal that set my course in this direction. I owe it to Cody.
Trevor is sitting up now, the light flipped on by his bed. I roll over to look at him, but slip the ring back in place first. This is going to be hard, but I know it might just ease some of the tightness in my chest.
“What about my dad?” Trevor says, his voice slow and steady. He doesn’t sound angry, but he’s far from happy. I sit up to face him, meeting him at eye level.
“Trevor…what all do you know about your dad’s relationship with Cody?” I say, gripping at the blankets next to me, squeezing them for strength.
Trevor’s reaction isn’t a surprise. I see his body get rigid the second I ask my question, and I know his defenses are up. “What did that lying piece of shit tell you about my father?” he asks, his nostrils flaring. I reach over to touch his hand, but he pulls it away, looking down at my hand like it’s the enemy. Maybe it is.
“Trevor, I know you don’t want to hear this. I know it’s going to be hard for you to hear, and hard for you to believe, but I’m asking you to…for me,” I say. His eyes slide up to meet mine, and they’re wild looking. His face has me rattled, and I’m fighting against my instinct to scrap this all and just tell him I’m being silly. But I can’t. And I know I can’t because of Cody. “Trevor, your dad’s having an affair.”
“Bullshit!” he’s loud now. He stands and walks to the other side of the room, and his body is still while he faces the wall. I can’t read him, and I’m not sure if he’s going to storm from the apartment or punch a hole in the closet door, but I know he’s angry.
I push on. “It’s not, Trevor. I promise you. It’s not,” I say, sliding closer to him, but staying on the bed, the blankets around me somehow making me feel safe.
He turns to face me, his eyes red, and his mouth in a hard line. “Yes, it is,” he sounds so cold when he says it. Part of me is glad he’s angry; it’s going to make it easier to tell him the rest.
“I know you don’t want to believe me, but I promise you. And there’s more…” I start, but wait to see if he’s going to let me finish. He doesn’t blink, but he doesn’t move either. “He owns the loan on Cody’s garage, the one his dad left him. And he refuses to let up. Trevor, he wants to sell it out from under him.”
Trevor shrugs and rolls his eyes, clearly unaffected by Cody’s bad fortune, which spurs me on even more. I stand now and grab his wrist, forcing him to look me in the eye.
“Listen to me, Trevor. It was his dad’s—his dad! That garage? That’s all he has left…in the whole goddamned world. And Jim wants to knock it down, rip it away from him, destroy it,” I’m begging him to understand me, hear the words I’m not saying. Trevor knows enough about Mac, even without the details about my nightmares and fears, to know what this means to me. Surely he has to understand why something from your dad could be so important.
I feel like I’m winning, his tension waning in his arm, and I let go, hoping he’ll come back to bed with me and hold me. But the second I leave him, he’s gone. The door slams shut, and the only sound left is the whirling of the heater in his small apartment.
I collapse back on the bed and pull the blankets up into a ball around me, my fists ripping at them. I bury my face in the pillow and scream. I can’t stand the feel of this ring, and I pull it from my finger and throw it hard against the wall and listen as it clanks along the floor.
I know I won’t sleep tonight, so I don’t even try. Instead, I close my eyes and visualize the stars.
The ones in Cody’s bedroom.
Chapter 10: Hear Me
The sun doesn’t come for hours, and the minutes tick by slowly. Trevor’s building is quiet, and every noise has me convinced, believing it’s him—that he’s come home. But it isn’t him—it’s never him.
I shower. I dress. I sit at the edge of the bed, staring into my packed suitcase. I’ll wait to zip it up. My flight doesn’t leave for six hours, but sitting here in Trevor’s empty apartment, alone, feels like a cruel type of isolation.
God, why did I have to bring up his father? And why didn’t he believe me? And why did I say yes?
It’s that last question that’s eating at me most. Here I am, looking at the ring still sitting in the middle of the floor, in the very spot I threw it last night. That ring, that FUCKING ring! Only a few short months ago, I wanted nothing more than to slip Trevor’s ring on my finger. But now it felt like a shackle. And as much as I don’t want to say it’s Cody, so much of it is.
I can’t take it any more. I pick up the ring and slide it into my pocket, zip up my bag, and leave the note on the center of the bed.
Went home.
That’s all I could think to write, and even that felt empty. Home—ha! I don’t even truly have one; the Appleton’s house has never felt like home.
I hail a cab and am off to the airport minutes after locking Trevor’s apartment behind me. I couldn’t even go back if I wanted to now—forcing myself to leave. The trip to the airport goes fast, and the desk girl is accommodating with my situation. Of course, I lie and tell her I need to go home on an earlier flight due to a death in the family.
My fingernails are almost down to the sensitive part of the skin, yet I bite them more. I keep looking down the walkway to all the gates, half expecting Trevor to come running up, to try to stop me. I wonder if he’s even made it home yet? He’s not expecting me to leave for a few more hours, but I’m curious just how far he’ll push things.