Page 32 of Take My Love
“But I did remember,” I tell her, inching closer. “I just…want you to know that you’d be impossible to forget, Posey. Being the one to kiss and touch you, then later findin’ out I’d been the only one to have you that way, I’ve kicked myself for fumblin’ you ever since. And maybe that’s why I’ve self-sabotaged and let someone like Aundrea treat me like shit.”
She doesn’t move, just stares and swallows hard, and I worry I’ve crossed the line. Posey stands behind a wall, using dry humor and sarcasm to protect herself, and it’s starting to make sense why she pushes people away. Even if the guys are the ones to break up with her, it’s because she’s holding back to avoid getting hurt again.
From the wayIhurt her.
“Posey?” I mutter softly when she doesn’t say anything.
She finally blinks. “Well, it’s a good thing we can be adults and move on from the past. Now you know you deserve better and won’t continue the pattern.”
This time when she moves to walk away, I let her.
Once I’ve picked up the kitchen and recycled our grocery bags, I pull out bread and cheese, then look for a can of tomato soup. I play music from my phone and get to work.
I sing along to my favorite song, and when I flip the first sandwich, the music stops, leaving me to belt the chorus on my own. When I tap my screen, it’s paused. So I hit the button and bop my head when the music returns.
Thirty seconds later, it happens again.
“What the hell?”
This time when I press the play button, I watch as it pauses on me two seconds later.
Deciding the app must be glitching, I delete it and then redownload it.
While I wait for it to load, I prepare the next sandwich and lather butter on the bread. After it’s on the pan with two slices of cheese, I check my phone and put my song back on.
Luckily, it plays normally and I continue singing.
Right when it’s my moment to shine and hit the final high note, it shuts off again.
“Motherfucker,” I grit between my teeth.
“She doesn’t like that song.” Posey’s voice behind me causes me to jump.
“Huh? Who?”
“Marjorie. It’s why she keeps turnin’ it off.”
With the spatula tight in my grip, I spin around and look for evidence of her. “She’s in here right now?”
“Seems like it,” she states without concern and opens the fridge. She pulls out the sweet tea and sets it on the counter. “She’s in her eighties. She’s not gonna like that hiphop pop stuff.”
“You’re fuckin’ with me…it’s a Wi-Fi issue, right? Right?”
She snickers, grabbing a glass. “Sure, the Wi-Fi.”
I know she’s lying, but I want to believe it.
“How’s it goin’ in here?” She peeks into the pan before I quickly flip it so it doesn’t burn.
“Yours is in the microwave keepin’ warm. Once I finished mine, I was gonna warm up the soup.”
Inhaling deeply, I smell her shampoo and fruity bodywash, then realize her hair’s wet.
“Did you shower?”
“Yeah, I took a quick one so you could get your clothes in the wash.”
“Oh.”
