“Capri, where did you get the money to pay off the shop?” he asked lowering his tone.
“It was my inheritance,” I said almost sheepishly, which was ridiculous. This was my money, and I used it how I wanted. I stood up straighter and shut the door.
“What?” He stared at me. Hard. It made me incredibly nervous, so I spoke up to defend myself for some reason.
“Wes, I was using it for school, and I dropped out. I wanted to use it for something important to me, and you’re important to me.” I waved my hands at him and took a step closer. He took a step back dropping his chin to his chest and holding his hand up to stop my approach.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said in such a low whisper it resembled a growl.
“Well, I did, and I would do it again,” I said standing firm. He looked up at me from under his eyes, and my knees wobbled. His stare was fractured, cracked, broken. This was about so much more than money.
“What is it, Wes?” I whispered taking another step toward him.
“You shouldn’t have to take care of me,” he said and his shoulders fell. I took another step, but his hand darted up to stop me again. I didn’t listen and took a few more steps until I was standing directly in front of him. “I want to take care of you,” he said bringing his head up to meet my eyes.
“You do, Wes. Every day.” I lifted my hand to touch his elbow, but he moved his arm away.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” He turned around and stalked away from me. “You’ve proven me right.” His voice had gained its original intensity as he turned back to face me. “I’ll never a good enough man for you.”
“Wes—” I threw my hands up, but he cut me off.
“That shop was my worth. That was how I was going to show you that I was responsible, that I was mature, that I could take care of you not just now, but forever. For-fucking-ever, Capri. I couldn’t do it, though. I couldn’t be the guy you should be with. Then you go and buy the shop for me. Buy it for me?” His shouts pushed me back to my original spot by the door. “My girl, who I should be able to take on the world for, has to do it for me.”
He ran his hands roughly through his hair staring up at the ceiling. From this angle, where I could see under his eyes instead of through, I suddenly recognized the look in his eyes. He was ashamed. I never thought that my actions would bring that on. The anger—I was prepared for—but humiliation, shame? I hadn’t been ready for that.
“That was your money, Capri. You could have put that money into making your dreams of a life in art a reality. It feels like you sold a piece of yourself for me, and I don’t like it. I don’t like that you did it, and I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”
“How does it make you feel, Wes?” I asked hoping he’d admit it. I needed his honesty right now more than anything, and he needed his honesty.
“Like you’re sacrificing yourself to take care of me.” There it was.
“Why is that so wrong? Why is it so awful that I care about you so much, Wes, because I think it’s pretty amazing. I think it’s pretty freaking amazing that I feel so much more for you than my art. Those images I create, they’ve got nothing on what you’ve composed in my heart.”
“You shouldn’t have.” His voice began to fall.
“No Wes, you think I shouldn’t have because you’ve never let anyone close enough to make those sacrifices for you. It’s not a matter of what I should or should not have done. It’s what I wanted to do. I’m not like other the girls, Wes. You let me in.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” he whispered.
“What?” I whispered back, but Wes didn’t say anything. “Tell me, Wes,” I said firmly but still could only force out a whisper. He said nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
“Tell me I should have been just another girl to you.” Nothing. This couldn’t be happening. The pounding of my heart raced through my veins.
“Tell me you regret us.” He looked down into my eyes. Nothing. His silence spoke a million heartbreaking words.
I bit my lip to hold it all in then reached over and gripped the doorknob. I looked one last time at Wes, giving him one last chance to say something anything. Somehow, the silence was so much more painful than any words he could have spoken. He didn’t speak, though. When I nodded my head in surrender, I swore I saw him wince, and I swung the door open. He stalked past me quickly sending a rush of his air to grate against my bare skin.
With the clicking of my door, the hold my teeth had on my lip slipped, releasing it all. The hurt, the disbelief, the actual shattering of my gray heart piece by piece, it all fell from my eyes leaving salty pools on my lips. The sting of the fresh wounds from my teeth would never be enough.
Every day since that night has been Groundhog day. I woke up, I painted, I forced myself to eat, I painted, I avoided everyone, and I painted. As much as I felt the urge to paint him, I didn’t. I was too hurt to give him that part of myself anymore. Instead, I focused on more paintings for the possible hotel deal Bia told me about. She got in touch with me earlier this week and said the owner of The Bay hotel, one of the classiest in downtown San Diego, wanted to see a few more of my paintings focusing on the area before making a decision.
Each one that I had completed was a welcome distraction from Wes. The Spanish tile from Old Town kept me from checking my phone. A flame from a gas lamp reminded me how much his words burned, and the light from Cabrillo Monument filled my head with his voice telling me that I would find my way.
Okay, distraction wasn’t working in my favor, which was probably why I had my room covered in every single item of clothing I owned. Nothing felt right. I couldn’t find the right outfit to say ‘Hey, you may have stomped all over my heart, but I’m better than ever.’ It was a lie. He stomped my heart and crumbled my soul along with it.
I settled on a pair of black lacy shorty shorts and a white button up tailored boyfriend shirt with the top three buttons undone. I fluffed my hair in the mirror and puckered my lips with the latest swipe of lip-gloss. There I was, done up to blend in. I thought to quickly tie my hair into a loose bun and wipe off the gloss but forced my feet to vacate my bedroom. I had a bachelorette party to get to, and dammit, I was going to have fun.
“They had to choose a dance club, didn’t they?” Lennon complained, walking with me up to the entrance.
“You’re the one who told them Tommy’s was lame,” I reminded her.
“I hate dancing.” She handed her ID to the bouncer.
“So, don’t dance.” I gave him mine next and winced a smile at him when he blatantly checked me out.
“So what’s going on with you?” she shouted above the bass of the music. I shrugged. It was much too loud for me to explain what was going on with Wes and me. I didn’t want to talk about that here anyway. Tonight was about August and Kensie not about Wes and me.
We weaved our way in and out of the writhing bodies flashing in the lights. I spotted August and Kensie in the distance cuddled up on a white couch. No Wes.
“The mistress of ceremonies has arrived,” Lennon announced, parading into the VIP area. I followed giving Kensie and my brother each a hug.
“You look amazing,” I told Kensie, pulling away and admiring her mini skirt paired with a loose, jeweled tank.
“So do you.” She grinned and picked up a bottle of tequila on the table. “We have bottle service. What will it be?” she asked pouring more than a few shots into a glass.