I knew looking at him then, that if he could be the only good thing I’d done in my life against all the bad—I’d take it. My mind worked fast and I knew I was the one who could help him get clean. I didn’t want to call Serena or Mom. All I had to do was get him to my house. I pulled him to a sitting position, but with only one fucking arm I couldn’t get him to his feet. And then as if God had heard my confession of sins and was forgiving me, there she was. She was there to help me.
I was surprised Dahl didn’t know about Trent, but then again the way my sister was acting, I shouldn’t have been. She helped me get him home and settled in what used to be our room. I had wanted to get her home and alone, but not under those circumstances.
We were both soaking wet and although I really wanted to strip off her wet clothes, I knew better than to attempt that under the circumstances, and, honestly, I wasn’t in the mood. So instead, I gave her a towel and some dry clothes. Once she changed she helped me try to secure a location for Trent and then we sat down and talked. My plan to skip talking backfired. It felt wrong. I just needed to let her know I wanted her back.
It was a relief to get it out, but her reaction was far from what I had expected. I thought she would run and wrap her arms around me, maybe even jump me. After all, I changed my whole life for her. But instead, when I put it out there, she shot me down. She rebuffed my every move. Then after I laid it out and told her that I wanted her, I could see in her eyes she didn’t feel the same way.
I tried to keep my cool while she was still here. Once she left I checked on Trent. Then I went into the bathroom and splashed some water on my face. I knew I had to keep it together. I had to concentrate on helping Trent. I was fucking exhausted so I lied down on the couch to try to take a quick nap. I knew I had a long night ahead of me and needed to catch some z’s, but I couldn’t sleep because memories of our life together seemed to be everywhere in this fucking house. I replayed her asking me to leave that pretty boy of hers alone a million times. I wanted to say fuck no, riling him up was too much fun, but I didn’t want to piss her off. But as soon as she called him her fiancé, I was the one who was pissed off. I felt like she had just punched me in the gut. I was her fiancé. Why I even asked if she knew him while we were together, I have no fucking idea because I already knew the answer—he had made that clear. I know she would have never cheated, but it still bugs the shit out of me. I’m really starting to doubt that I’m going to be able to get her back. Fuck me.
Chapter 19
Pieces
I’m blaring “I Found You” by the Wanted and singing along to one of my favorite songs when my calmness fades and annoyance surfaces. Ellie’s car is parked in our driveway directly in front of the garage. What’s she doing here this late? Doesn’t her workday end at five like most people’s?
Jerking the wheel, I turn and park right in front of the steps. I rush out into the rain, and then hurry up to the landing. Turning the knob, I discover it’s unlocked, and I open the door slowly. Why is she here alone with River? What am I going to walk into?
I expect to see them sitting at the kitchen table, so when I see River on the couch and her on the floor beside him, I’m more than a little surprised. I take in the whole scene. The gifts have been moved to the counter. He’s leaning over the glass coffee table looking at a stack of papers. Her red shirt is unbuttoned so far that her matching bra isn’t the only thing showing. Her legs are bent to the side and her tight black pencil skirt is riding up pretty high. She’s leaning against the back of the sofa with her arm resting on it, very close to River’s thigh. Her other hand is holding a pen over the stack of papers that River is looking at. She’s removed her leopard-print, high– heel pumps, showing off her red-painted toenails. Her bare feet lay pressed against our wooden floor and she looks a bit too comfortable to be conducting a business meeting.
“Hi.” It’s all I say but it’s enough to make River’s head snap up, his eyes meeting mine.
“Hi,” he says back and his face is unreadable, but I swear I see guilt in his eyes.
The next series of events seems to play out in slow motion. Ellie swings her head around and her mane of silky black hair follows. She looks up and gives me a fake smile and a slight wave. She flutters her unnaturally long eyelashes and glares at me like I’m intruding. I can’t help but return the look. Then I avert my stare and look around. There’s a pizza box and a few beer bottles on the coffee table and I have to wonder how long she’s been here and how much they’ve had to drink. I feel my heart tear a little at the picture before me, but it rips my heart out when I see Stella, his guitar, propped against the couch on the other side of Ellie.
Water is dripping down from my wet hair and onto my face. I push the hair out of my eyes as she says, “Oh sorry, did I block you from getting in the garage? I never thought of it.”
I can’t help but sneer at her and say, “Of course you didn’t.” Afterward, I abruptly turn toward the bedroom and throw over my shoulder, “Sorry if I interrupted.” My head is spinning as I move to escape the large room that suddenly seems claustrophobic. I slam the bedroom door, kick off my shoes, and throw myself onto the bed. I know I wanted to come home and talk calmly to River, but now I’m just annoyed.
Staring out the window, I try to see the Hollywood sign, but the rain is falling so hard that I can barely make the letters out. I’m not a jealous person, or least I never have been, but there’s just something about that woman. I begin to wonder if I haven’t picked up on what’s clearly in front of my eyes. Have we been over and I just didn’t realize it? Is the bond I thought we shared not as strong as I envisioned?
Flashes of our fairy-tale romance swim before my eyes—our fun drive from Vegas to LA, our games, his crazy made-up rules, the fountain and our wishes, waking up with him every morning—him always asking if I can “wait a bit” for my coffee because he’s got better things in mind, sleeping on whichever side of the bed we happen to be on because being together is all that matters.
“What the hell, Dahlia!”
Without turning around I ask him, “Is there something going on between the two of you? Is that what you’re not telling me?”
“No!” he snaps and then I feel the bed dip as he moves across it. He hovers over me and his hand slides along the curves of my waist before resting on my hip. I shudder at his touch. With his lips near my ear he more calmly says, “Why would you even think that?”
I turn around to face him. “You’ve been spending a lot of time together. Then I come home and she’s here again.”
He shakes his head, “She’s here working.”
“I’m afraid she’s here just waiting to pick up our pieces.”
“There are no pieces. We’ll never be in pieces.”
I whisper, “But I see the way she looks at you.”
His eyes meet mine and he whispers back, “I don’t care how she looks at me. You’re the only one I see.”
I know I shouldn’t say this, but I have to, I have to know. “It didn’t look like that tonight. What was she doing here? Did you play for her?” I can’t bear the thought of him playing his guitar for her. When he plays for me, he bares his soul, and it feels like the most intimate moment two people can share without touching one another.
“Dahlia, I didn’t play for her.” But as he says this, his body stiffens and he throws himself back on the bed.