Page 47 of Built to Last
“Can we please go home and talk about this?” Hearing him talk like his house belongs to both of us tugs at my battered heart. I wish I could say yes to his offer but I can’t. If I say yes, it’s like I’m saying what he’s done is ok and it’s not. As much as it hurts, I need to put some distance between us so I can figure out how I really feel without worrying about how it might affect him.
“No. I think I should stay with Aria and Bel tonight. I’ll order a taxi, it shouldn’t take long. This is for the best. I’ll stop by your place for a few things but that’s all.” His expression shutters, the ever-present twinkle in his eyes snuffed out by my words. With a sharp nod, he steps back to let me pass. Hesitating with my hand hovering over the front door handle, I almost turn around but force myself to keep moving. I’m not sure what I would say right now anyway. The gentle snick of the door closing behind me feels heartbreakingly final.
Under the small covering of the Blackwell’s front porch, I take a few gasping breaths to calm down, angrily swiping away a tear that’s managed to escape. Once I’m no longer on the verge of crying, I use an app on my phone to order a taxi. My heart twists when I think about our perfect morning compared to the gaping wound this afternoon has left behind.
The chilly autumn air blows away the last of my anger while I wait, leaving me feeling like an empty husk. The sound of the front door opening fills me with a twisted kind of hope and I turn round quickly, heart sinking all over again when I realise it’s only Blake. Embarrassed, I offer him an awkward smile. It’s not like I actually wanted Phillip to follow me out here so it shouldn’t disappoint me that he hasn’t. A heavy sigh leaves me. Emotionally drained, all I want is to go and wallow in a cuddle pile with my best friends.
Instead of heading straight for his car, which looks like it must cost more than my flat, Blake tentatively steps up beside me.
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.” I shrug, feeling awkward about everything Phillip’s family and closest friend just witnessed. I’m pretty sure they all heard at least some of our argument.Great first impression, Rose.It probably doesn’t matter much now anyway.
“Actually, it is,” he admits. “Phillip asked me to wait until he had a chance to speak with you about the gallery show slot. He said he’d ask on my behalf because he didn’t want to keep the opportunity from you but that I shouldn’t hold my breath for a yes.” He runs a hand over his close-cropped beard. “I thought he was being overly sensitive. Who wouldn’t want their work featured in one of Kimaya’s shows? So, I told her about you anyway then got impatient when he didn’t ask you straight away. I thought he knew I was coming to lunch today and assumed he would have discussed the opportunity with you before we were introduced. Clearly I was mistaken, and I apologise.”
Releasing a soul-deep sigh, I tilt my face up to the gloomy sky like the storm clouds might show me what to do. Blake hovers and I know I’ll have to say something before he’ll leave. Unfortunately, I don’t have it in me to conjure up the words he wants to hear.
“Look, I appreciate the apology but I’m not really interested in making you feel better right now.”
His eyebrows rise in surprise. I guess if he’s as rich as his car and outfit suggest he’s not used to many people calling him out.
“That’s fair.” He regards me for a moment with something suspiciously close to respect. “Just in case you change your mind.” He pulls a business card from his wallet and holds it out to me. Wanting this interaction to be over already, I take it and shove it in the back pocket of my jeans.
My taxi arrives just as Blake gets into his car. I jog over to it right away, desperately needing to put some distance between myself and this disaster of an afternoon.
Me:
Have you got room for one more tonight?
Bel:
I’ve always got room for you. What happened?
Lunch was a disaster. Tell you more when I get to yours?
OK.
Going to stop for comfort food but will be there in about an hour.
Not that there was ever really any doubt, but I feel better knowing Bel is happy for me to crash at his tonight. The taxi drops me at Phillip’s place and, using the spare key he gave me, I let myself inside. Wanting to be gone before he gets back, I hurriedly toss a few things into my rucksack and do my best to ignore the ache in my chest that being in his bedroom brings. It’s hard to believe we woke up in this bed together only hours ago. Happiness is a fragile thing that can shatter all too easily.
My tired mind swirls with questions as I push myself to keep moving instead of sinking to the floor in a mess of tears. Was Blake telling the truth? Would Phillip really have told me about the gallery show tonight? Even if Phillip and I talk it through without the heightened emotions of this afternoon’s argument, I feel like I can’t trust him now. I don’t know how we come back from that. Bag packed, I take one last lingering look at the space before forcing my feet to carry me out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rose
Bel buzzesme up to his flat, he and Aria both waiting for me in the doorway, twin looks of concern on their faces.
“I brought brownies from Snug,” I say, holding up the paper bag with a wan smile.
“That bad?” Aria asks, wincing. Violet’s brownies are so decadent we only ever get them to celebrate something amazing or to commiserate over something really shitty. After his last break-up, Bel even started calling them heartbreak brownies.
“Get in here, rosebud.” Bel pulls me over the threshold and into a warm hug, his hazel eyes full of sympathy. The familiar nickname is what finally sends me over the edge, tears streaming down my face as my shoulders shake with barely contained sobs. Rosebud may have been my first nickname, given to me by Bel back in university“because your name’s Rose and you’re my buddy”but it’s not the one I want to hear. All it does is leave me wondering if I’ll ever hear Phillip call me raincloud in his warm baritone again.
Bel manoeuvres me to the sofa, Aria rescuing the brownies from where they’re getting squashed between us before joining in the cuddle pile and gently stroking my hair. When I’ve calmed down enough to stop crying, I gratefully accept the tissueAria offers me, drying my cheeks and cringing when the tissue comes away covered in black smudges. So much for waterproof mascara. I probably look like a cross between a racoon and the undead but can’t bring myself to do anything more about it. Part of the beauty of close friends is not having to put on a brave face when you’re at your lowest. Neither of them say anything about the state I’m in beyond Aria offering me another tissue.
“What happened? Was it something with his family? I thought everything was going great between you two,” Aria asks.
