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Eleven
Charlotte
“What did your father say about your eye?” Mallory whispered as she tied her apron around her waist.
“He asked if Tanner hit me.”
“He might as well have. Fucking psychopath.”
“Stop. Please. I don’t want to talk about this, or him. I just want to forget this weekend ever happened and move forward.”
“Has he called?”
I sighed. “No. He knows how I feel.”
“How do you feel?”
Disappointed. Empty. Hurt. “Stupid.”
“Why do you feel stupid?”
“I can’t stand the kind of girls who try to change the men they’re with. They try to make them act how they want them to act, but then get mad every time they revert back. I’ve always felt that if you didn’t like something about someone, you shouldn’t be with them. You can’t change people. I was dumb for trying to change Tanner. I was dumb for trusting him. I was dumb for thinking he could be different.”
Mallory put her hand on my shoulder. “You gave him a chance, and it was going well for a while. You care about him. That’s not dumb.”
I pulled the brim of my hat lower as the first customer walked through the door. “I just wish it didn’t hurt so badly.”
“It will get easier in time. I think you’re doing the right thing, getting out now before you’re both too invested in each other.”
The pain in my chest told me it was too late for that.
Mallory helped the customer and waited until she was gone before turning back to me. “Did you hear what Shawn said to make Tanner punch him?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but I knew she was going to tell me anyway.
“He said if Tanner wasn’t going to fuck Merritt, then he would.” She shivered. “He’s disgusting.”
I knew any male would’ve wanted to hit a mouthy guy like Shawn. He was disrespectful toward women, to say the least. Even I’d wanted to slap him during our encounters. I didn’t want to admit it, but part of me felt glad that Tanner knocked him out. Could I be overreacting about it? Or was this a sign from the universe telling me we weren’t meant to be? This was the endless mental battle I’d had with myself all weekend.
“So, what are your plans for first Thanksgiving in New York?”
The holidays. I hadn’t thought about them. Dad and I had always been surrounded by friends. This year, it would be just the two of us.
I shrugged. “We haven’t discussed it yet.”
“You and your dad should come to my house. My mom puts out a huge spread. We’re Italian, so we’ll have more than enough food.”
“I’d like that. I’ll talk to my dad.”
“Talk to your dad about what?” Dad stepped out of the kitchen with a fresh batch of seven-layer cookies.
“I’m inviting you to my house for Thanksgiving,” Mallory said. “It’ll be me, my mom, my grandparents, my aunt and uncle, and their three kids.”
“Sounds like a full house. Are you sure your mother won’t mind setting two extra plates for us?”
She blew air out of her mouth and waved her hand. “Please. You guys are like family. She’d love to have you.”
Dad looked at me for approval. “What do you say, kiddo?”
