Page 56 of His Hot Mess

“It doesn’t matter.”

But the way those words came out, like hammers punching down nails; the way everything changed when he saw me looking at it, clearly it did matter. I so desperately want to ask him what happened. What could have changed that led from the happy couple in the photos to the closed down man standing next to me. But anger grew in me now too. Fomenting into something ugly in my chest.

“You shouldn’t keep something you don’t want people to see just lying around on your coffee table.”

His face grew harder, and I waited for him to snap something back at me. That’s what we did. That’s what I wanted. Maybe we could hash this out, punch through the bad feelings and get back to where we’d been.

But he didn’t say anything about the album. He didn’t say anything, except, “I’ll take you home now.”

* * *

The drive home was a painful,stretched-out, jagged thing made a thousand times worse by how magical the day had been. I stared out the window at the shapes of trees in the moonlight and the infrequent glow of cabin lights reflected off the smaller lakes as we wound back towards Barkley Falls.

At first it was guilt rolling around in my gut. Remorse. I’d awakened his most painful memories. Obviously she’d left him—why else would he be so destroyed by a photo album of a happy couple?

But the guilt was laced with irritation. Why was the album sitting out? If he was that pissed about seeing her, wouldn’t he have gotten rid of the thing? Or at the very least buried the album in a box in the basement ready for a visit years down the road when things had changed sufficiently that it might not crush him to open it?

He was still in love with her. It was the only explanation.

The irritation grew to anger. Not at him still having feelings for her, but at him for leaving the album in plain view and getting pissed when I picked it up. More than that, the anger was at myself, for doing this again.

I wasn’t supposed to have gotten anywhere near a situation where something like this could happen. Where the hurt and pain of relationships could get in the way of me living an actual life, striving for something more than just getting by. I was supposed to be starting fresh out here and the first thing I’d done was jump into bed with my fucking contractor.

When we pulled up to the curb at my place it was dark, the streets of Barkley Falls quiet, as they always were after the stores shut down. There was no such thing as nightlife in this town. That was a good thing right now, I supposed. As much as I wanted to, there was no way for me to head to a random bar and drown my sorrows in shots and some other random man.

No way for me to wake up feeling even worse than the night before.

The cleanest thing I could do right now was get the hell away from Chris, forget about everything that had happened as best as possible, and start fresh tomorrow. At least I didn’t have to worry about screwing up with him tomorrow. I was too furious to even think about it.

I couldn’t get out of Chris’s truck fast enough. “Thanks for the ride,” I said as I stepped out.

He must have heard the steel in my voice because he said, “Sadie, wait.”

I almost slammed the door in his face. I wasthisclose. But instead, that clenching rage in my chest released just slightly, loosening just enough that I could turn toward him.

With the anger momentarily lifted I was in a vulnerable position. I wasn’t prepared for the hardness I still saw on his face. The grim slash of his mouth and the way his eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “I want to stay,” he said.

I opened my mouth to tell him hell no, but he continued.

“Downstairs, I mean. Do some of the work I should have gotten done today.”

A hot spike of shame drove through me. Of course. Why would he want to be with me after all this? He wanted to work. I’d derailed him. Knocked him off his steady, carefully lined-up track.

“I’m tired,” I snapped. “Exhausted, actually.” It was true. But I also couldn’t conceive of working with him right now. Not after everything. Looking at the clock on his dash, I also saw it was after ten at night.

He saw me looking at the time. “Do you think you can sleep through a bit of noise?”

My mouth went dry, the pain in my chest turning sharp. He wanted to do it alone. Just to see the job through. He didn’t want me there at all.

He couldn’t stand to even look at me.

My whole body was so stiff I was surprised I could get my lips to move. “Sure. If that’s really how you want to spend your night.”

“I committed to a job.”

The words were like needles on my skin, prickling. Jabbing. Pushing at me, daring me to cry out.

“Suit yourself,” I said. I reached for my purse and pulled out my keys, slipping the shop keys off the ring and tossing them at him. Then I did slam the door in his face. But it didn’t make me feel any better.

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