Page 95 of Good Days Bad Days
“You should take that as a compliment.”
“As someone who has been trying to get you to talk to me for days, I’m not going to complain.” His tone is teasing, but he has a point.
“As someone who has been the victim of your selfish choices, you probably shouldn’t,” I reply in a singsong voice.
“Victim? Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously, Ian. I mean, how dare you act like I’m overreacting?”
“How dare I? Damn it, Charlie. I’ve been trying to fix things, and you keep cutting me off and then flirting with other men.”
“Men, plural?” I scoff, disgusted at the accusation.
“Fine. Other man. Is that better?”
“I told you Cam is a friend.”
“Yeah, you sure did.” The doors open and neither of us get out, even though it’s our floor. They close again, and Ian pushes the highest number on the button panel. I don’t stop him since it’s probably our best option at privacy right now.
“This isn’t even about Cam or the stuff on Instagram. I’m willing to ...” I grit my teeth and say what I’d decided before seeing the messages from Alex on Ian’s phone at Ristorantè Brissago. “I’m willing to try and work through that in therapy.”
Ian’s jaw clenches. I thought he’d have a bigger reaction—a hug or a “thank God”—but he just looks at me expectantly.
“What is it about then if it’s not about the stuff on Instagram and Cam?” he asks finally.
“The texts from Alex. Obviously. What do you think?” The doors open on the fourth floor, and a hospital employee walks in and we go silent. She gets off on the next floor, and Ian spits out his response.
“I’m not a part of that. I told him no, Charlie. Just like you did.”
“I don’t believe you. They were at the house this morning, filming with Jordan Kelp.”
“Yeah. With Jordan—not me. I spent the morning on the phone with Carol, Phil, and our attorneys, trying to find a workaround. I was on a Zoom call when your dad called me. I tried getting throughto you, but you weren’t exactly answering your phone. Olivia filled me in, which, by the way, I don’t love that our daughter has to be the messenger between us.”
“You’re the one who dragged her into our stuff,” I say, my head spinning as we reach the top floor.
A couple gets on the elevator; the dad is carrying their new baby in a car seat, while the mom is in a wheelchair, accompanied by a nurse in colorful scrubs. By the time we make it back to the lobby, the husband recognizes Ian and asks for a quick selfie. We take a few pictures and congratulate the new parents. When we get back into our mobile fighting room, we’ve both cooled down and I’m buzzing from the interaction. Ian and I are good together. I want his promises to be real. I want to make this work.
After the doors close and we start moving in whatever direction it decides, Ian pulls me close.
“How many times do I have to tell you—I’m on your side.”
“It’s not about telling me. It’s about showing me.”
“How can I show you when you keep closing your eyes?” he asks, staring down at me as if he wants to kiss me.
“My parents gave up on me, Ian. And then Ricky did the same. At some point it’s easier to ...”
“Run away?” he suggests.
“Leave first. It hurts less. I just don’t want to hurt all the time anymore.”
“I don’t want that either. I promise,” he replies. I raise my eyebrows at another promise, and he corrects himself. “I’llshowyou, I mean.”
“And I’ll try to keep my eyes open this time.”
“Deal,” he says. We shake on it, and Ian yanks me in for a kiss that lasts until we finally arrive back in the lobby where our pizza driver is pulling up. It’s frightening to say yes to a second chance. It’s like I’m standing still while someone takes aim, but I know how to escape if I need to. I’ve done it plenty of times. I might as well give staying a try.
By the time we get to the third floor, where Olivia and my father are waiting, we have a large pizza, cans of soda, and a bag of overpriced snacks purchased from the gift shop.
