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“Another cliché?” I grabbed his coat, ignoring the rack clattering to the floor, and began pushing him out. “How about you just get the hell out? It’ll save you the trouble of coming up with some creative excuse that’ll suck me back into this mess. Which will end the same way it did seven years ago!”
He was too large for me to effectively push him out of the door and I backed up, seething. He was crowding me, and I needed to get away from him. I hadn’t felt emotions like this in a long time. It was too much. I sank down in front of the couch, begging him to leave.
“I’m not going anywhere until you listen to me,” he shouted over the pounding in my head. He threw his coat down and dialed the number again, this time putting it on speaker.
“Daddy?”
I looked up in astonishment. A little girl’s voice rang through my apartment so clearly, it was like she was there.
“Hi, sweetheart. I’m here with my friend. Remember I told you about her?” His voice held that soft, loving tone again.
“Noa?” she asked with excitement.
“Yes. I found her. Can you believe it?” He was looking over at me with a smile.
The little girl mumbled something happily, but I couldn’t make it out over the constant thrum at my temples.
While my heart was melting at the sound of her laughter, it was breaking all over again. I began to sob. I couldn’t even contort my features in a way I knew was somewhat attractive, so I hid my face with my hands. I knew if I was ugly crying, this night was going downhill fast.
I wasn’t that vain a woman. But true tears, the kind that came from your soul, they weren’t pretty. The world could pretend, but everyone had parts of them that were downright hideous. I cried real tears and they were ugly because they came from the darkest and most unresolved parts of me. Parts I’d let stay stagnant for a long time.
“I have to go, Phoebe. But be a good girl for Mommy. I’ll see you soon.” He was heading toward me; I could see it through my fingers.
“’Kay, bye.” She hung up, and Dexter was pulling me to my feet, much to my embarrassment.
“What is it?” He set his phone down. “I thought you wouldn’t be upset anymore.”
Dexter knew next to nothing about women. I knew this when we dated because little things I cared about, he didn’t even think about. To be fair, he handled the big things that bothered me. But he didn’t understand that little things tended to build up and turn into massive things if not properly addressed. So, I was going to address it, even though I knew I was being ridiculous. The past couldn’t be undone.
“I’m a little devastated,” I said, working over my emotional hiccups. “I mean, I’ve been living this life here, and while some parts are uniquely satisfying, I’ve been lonely. It’s just me here. But you have this family, and I can’t compete with that.” I whirled around, trying to stamp down the one thing I desperately needed to say.
“I know you have more to say. Say it.”
I turned back to the defeated man in front of me and I said it. “I was supposed to be the one! I was supposed to have your children, and we were supposed to live happily ever after.” Tears tracked down my face despite my continuing to wipe them. “I feel like I was the only one who was in our fairytale. It was real for me, Dexter. Was it real for you?” Before he answered I waved my hands and took a deep breath. “I’m being an idiot. It isn’t fair for me to tell you these things.”
“Stop it.” He took the few steps between us and gripped my upper arms, shaking me. “Stop being yourself and then fucking apologizing. You’re right. Itwassupposed to be you.”
He leaned into me and I inhaled, smelling him. I wanted to push him away, but his scent stopped me. After seven years, he still managed to smell like all my favorite things: the sun on my face, falling both quickly and slowly in love with him, and spending my birthday at his lake house.
“It can still be you,” he whispered.
I didn’t have long enough to ponder it because then he was kissing me, scattering any coherent thought I might’ve tried to think. Although we played like we were strangers, our bodies proved us wrong. His hands knew where to spread on the slope of my waist and my mouth knew exactly how his would feel on mine.
“I’ve been waiting to do that for a long time now,” he said when he pulled away.
“You and these clichés, Dexter Andrews.” I grinned when he shook his head.
“I meant I’ve been waiting a long time to shake you, you stubborn woman.”
I stepped back and sat on the couch, my hands hanging between my legs. It still messed with my head a little—a lot—to be so close to him. I needed to think.
“What do you think is going to happen?” I couldn’t look at him. It was part of his charm; his good looks were too much to want to fight him off. And when he smiled, he owned me. I was his.
But aren’t you already? Haven’t you always been?
I ignored the little voice in my head. Just because I longed for him for seven years didn’t mean I’d jump into his arms. I still had a voice, and I had my life here to think about.
“What do you want to happen, Noa?”
