Page 70 of No More Bad Boys
Just looking at Blake’s sister is painful, her beautiful face and dark auburn hair a heart-stinging reminder of the only guy I’ve ever loved.
She comes toward me, all smiles, maybe for the sake of the workers around us. When she reaches me though, she drops the pretense. She doesn’t look angry, doesn’tappearto hate me. Instead, her face is filled with compassion.
Her voice is soft and low when she speaks, the words meant only for me. Her hands wrap around mine, imparting a hint of warmth to my ice-cold skin.
“Cadence. Howareyou?”
Glancing back over her shoulder, Whitney addresses the carpenters. “Hey guys—want to go ahead and call it a day? This consult’s gonna take a while. See you Monday morning.”
The men get up and leave the room, appearing not to mind leaving early on a Friday at all.
Whitney walks over to the carpeted base of the old set, the only part of it that remains. She sits down and pats the surface beside her.
“Come here. Let’s chat.”
I finally find my voice. “What are you doing here?” I repeat, woodenly obeying her instructions and lowering myself to the riser.
“I’m consulting on the new set design. The news director decided he wasn’t an interior designer after all—after being torn a new one by the general manager—or so I hear. Blake suggested that I might be able to helpwithoutkilling the project’s budget, so they called me…”
She drops her chin and looks directly into my eyes. “I’m here totryto help salvage things.”
The way she says the last part makes me wonder if she’s here to salvage the set project or something else. The look in her eye confirms it for me.
“So… you know what happened, I guess.” To my shame, I’m having to battle my tear ducts for control.
Whitney nods, and her eyes glisten with pity.
“You look terrible—sorry—you know what I mean. And I’ve never seen Blake like this. I’ve dropped in to check on him every night this week—though he keeps telling me to go away. He’s stopped cooking. When he eats at all, it’s plain tuna out of the can. He even ate peanut butter crackers the other night.”
I look away from her sad eyes. “He’ll get over it.”
She shakes her head. “I’m worried about him, Cadence. He’s saying things like he might move back to Sparta and find some kind of a job there. And last night… he was drinking. Alone. It’s like he feels so bad about what he did to you he’s given up on himself. I don’t know what to do.”
Now my heart’s ripped totally out and lying on the sawdust-covered studio floor. What he did to me? What about what I did tohim? I shut him out completely, slammed the door to my heart without really even listening to him.
“I think you should know… he never mentioned your sister to me back when he was in college,” Whitney says. “You’re theonlygirl he’severtalked to me about. He was desperate for advice on how to win you. He loves you, Cadence. I hope you believe that.”
“I’m… too afraid to believe it,” I admit.
She shakes her head. “That doesn’t sound like the Cadence I’ve gotten to know. You’ve told me how you stood up to your mother’s pushiness all these years, how you made up your mind to get into Georgia Tech and work your way through school no matter what it took, how you’ve worked at all these big companies. It takes a very courageous person to do all those things, a person who believes in herself. So why can’t you believe Blake could love you?”
I stare at Whitney’s gentle expression, processing her words. Blaketoldme he loved me.
More importantly—when I look back on our relationship—he’sshownme he loves me. And he showed me I’m capable of loving someone, too.
That it’srealand not just a decision people make because the numbers add up and the data supports it.
My face drops into my palms and my shoulders sag. I rock back and forth. “What should I do? I’ve been… horrible. I don’t know if he’ll even want me anymore.”
She gives a little half-laugh, half-sob, rubbing my back. “I wouldn’t worry about that. He’s never wanted anything so badly in his life—and this is an ambitious man. He definitely wants you back, but I should warn you—”
At her serious tone, I lift my head.
She winces. “He’s… um… he’s moving through the stages of grief pretty quickly. He’s zipped through denial and bargaining right to anger. That one may last a while.”
“Oh.” I picture Blake’s fierce, incredulous expression when I refused to show any emotion at the pizza parlor. How would he react if I approach him now, after the way I’ve treated him?
Instead of being intimidated, I feel a growing sense of determination. Whitney’s words have galvanized me. And if I’ve been strong enough to hold up under Momma’s scorn all these years, then I can handle some blowback from a guy who’s entitled to it.
