Page 115 of Holiday on the Rocks
My stomach clunked to the ground, and I wished my life had background music so I could keep up with whether I was in a comedy or horror show.
Kristina’s head shook. “He’s living with a woman?”
Her eyes shot to me.
“But he doesn’t do relationships.” I stared at the words that were burning my corneas.
She exhaled. “Well, is he’s buying couches and she’s filling up the freezer with his favorites, that sounds like a relationship to me.”
My mind was grasping at straws. “Maybe not?”
“Allie, he’s purchasing domestic items with a woman, and it sounds like the share a home together.”
While my mind was attempting to choke out this new information, prissiness was seeping in. It was one thing if he were honest about being a player and not wanting anything serious, but it was another when he had a woman at home and was with me; he’d made me the other woman.
He planned to be in Colorado and then go home. He didn’t know I’d be here. He just wanted to shag and bag me before he left the good old US of A.
Kristina set the phone down. “What can I do?”
“Nothing.”
She stood and pulled me to my feet. “Okay, but remember a true friend doesn’t ask what are you going to do when you tell them you’ve killed someone. They say I’ll get my shovel. You text me if you need me.”
After a quick hug she exited as my scorched brain processed the new crap that had dropped into my life like a steaming pile of horse shit.
He’d become his father? When I was in high school John Dawson was one of those men who was rough, tough, drank hard, but had an undeniable sexiness that kept him away from his apartment a good chunk of the time. I guess the apple didn’t fall far. My life sucks.
He was well aware of the effect he’d always had on me. He just wanted to have another go at it before he went home. To the woman who was probably awaiting his return naked on his new couch.
I allowed myself to cry for five minutes, and the tears fell like rain, and I realized just how far into my heart he was. Again.
I crawled into bed and closed my eyes tightly trying to summon strength.
I tossed and turned bouncing between if it was a toaster-in-the-bathtub or burn the fuckin’ house down kind of night. As I attempted to sleep, I realized insomnia is just another word for chit chatting with the demons. Clearly my noggin had decided I would not sleep until I find a cure for my insomnia.
Dear two thirty a.m., we have got to stop meeting like this.
I finally just got up and read my favorite author Mary Lee Painter. Yes, Wild in Minnesota took my mind off of the biggest heart breaker on this side of the globe for a while before I took a hot shower.
I applied ointment to my stitches and realized he caused everything. Yup, the second he was in the same state as me my car flew off the road, and I was hurt in multiple ways. Again.
I dabbed on some concealer to hide my cry bags, and blush as if my heart wasn’t busted into iddy biddy pieces. It was a I want to fake my own death, move to Mexico, and live off tacos and margaritas kinda day.
I just needed perspective. I needed to make it through the wedding and get the hell out of Colorado and deal with my Levi feelings never. While I debated on tossing his phone out the window and into a snowbank, instead I set it on the sofa table in the living room like a normal human before entering the kitchen where laughter assaulted my ears.
I kept my eyes down and made it to the table. I could see Levi at the stove out of the corner of my eye so I sat with my back to him. I could not see his beautiful face.
Clint, Will, and Lexi were seated at the table. Rachel walked in behind me and gave my shoulder a squeeze.
“Good morning. After all that activity yesterday, did everybody sleep well?”
Behind me I heard silverware falling onto the tiled floor. The whole table turned to see Levi’s red face. “Oops.”
“No. It was a terrible night, from top to bottom.”
More dropping utensils.
Clint pushed me over a mug. “I guess coffee is in order.”
