Page 44 of Yield to Me

“Yes,” I whispered. “I would do anything for you too.”

His fingers slipped behind my head and interlaced with my hair, pulling me in, and he kissed me deeply, without reserve. I crumbled in his arms, and relief filling my body. I trembled and his grip grew tighter, bringing me closer to him.

Owen showered, and I laid on his bed, flipping through a book he had on his nightstand. It was the first time he had let me into his bedroom, which seemed like a step in the right direction. When I thought about it, I realized that he had gotten me to trust him, after years of keeping my guard up, and yet he had his own giant walls, ones that had taken just as much to destroy. It was funny that even this little bit of privacy, seeing his bedroom, was one crack at those barriers. And his bedroom? It was enormous; it was the size of my mother’s whole house. A fireplace crackled to one side of the room, and a maroon rug lay underneath a large dark wood cabinet. Fresh red marks radiated heat on my ass, amplified by the fire. I wondered if the marks would leave a bruise, and I snuggled into the bed happily, thinking about that physical reminder.

A soft ringing noise hummed through the house. I sat up, looking at the bathroom to listen for Owen to say something about it, but he said nothing. Maybe he hadn’t heard it. I looked out of the window and saw a car in the driveway, parked behind mine.

I peeked into the bathroom. “Doorbell?” I said. He didn’t respond. Maybe the shower was too loud.

I walked down the hallway and stairs and stood at the front door. Through the peephole, I saw a woman with blond hair, black roots and streaks blending with it. She was wearing a white blazer and a matching pencil skirt. I had expected to see someone familiar from Monterey or the galleries, but I had never seen this woman before. I opened the front door.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” the woman said. She wrinkled her nose. “Is Owen home?” She leaned to the side, looking around me. “You’re not the usual help,” she muttered.

I furrowed my eyebrows. “He’s busy,” I said. I looked the woman up and down slowly. “Who are you?”

“I’m Poppy Wellington,” she said. She looked at me closely, truly taking me in for the first time. “Owen must’ve told you about me. Who are you?”

Poppy waited in the office while I stomped to the bedroom. Owen was standing at the closet, flipping through hangers of suits. “Who’s Poppy?” I demanded. Owen opened his mouth and I put up a hand to stop him. “Don’t lie to me. I know you wouldn’t invite a business acquaintance here.”

“My ex-fiance,” he said.

My cheeks burned. “Is that what came up? What you’ve been dealing with?”

“She needs a place to stay.”

“So you invited her in? After hurting you? After leaving you? Just like that?”

Owen didn’t say anything. He stared at me.

“So that’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” I yelled. Thoughts raced through my mind, wondering whether anything he had said earlier that day was actually true. “Do you still love her?” I asked quietly. I remembered his answer from months ago, but that was when he hadn’t spoken to her in years. He had been speaking to her for a few weeks now, at least since we had gone to Fisherman’s Wharf, and he hadn’t said anything about her to me at all. Tears fell down my cheek. I felt betrayed. Those walls that he had? They were bigger than I’d ever known, and he was willing to keep those secrets from me. I couldn’t stand the fact that he let her in like nothing had happened. Like I didn’t exist. Even if he wasn’t fucking her, he couldn’t answer if he still loved her, and that explained everything, why he had suddenly disappeared, pretending like he didn’t know me.

Maybe I didn’t matter when it came to Poppy. I was too hurt to wait and find out. I ran down the stairs.

“Riley, stop! Listen to me!”

But I shoved him away. I got in my car and drove, blinking away the tears from my eyes. I turned up the radio so I wouldn’t be able to hear him or hear my phone ringing. I even shoved my phone under my seat, wanting to block out everything. I would ignore his calls, like he had ignored mine, and I would help my mother pack for the move. If Owen wanted to find me, he would have to find me in Southern California.

TO BE CONTINUED