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It was no surprise that his parents would know just the person. Of course, they would. There was no shortage of eligible, ideal women in Alexander and Marcella’s wealthy circle.
Abilene Beaumont.
Even her name sounded regal. She sounded elegant and beautiful and sophisticated. She sounded exactly like someone Darius needed at his side, someone whose social standing would keep him safe and that was all I wanted. I just couldn’t stop the ache in my chest or undo the knot in my gut.
It was three days since that dinner, three days of my throwing myself into work and cleaning and avoiding any prickle of thought that contained Darius Medlock. I scrubbed my apartment with a single-minded vengeance that would have shamed a surgical room. I hauled boxes of clothing and anything I hadn’t touched in more than a month to the donation bin. I spent hours buried in the backroom ofLe Hush, unpacking new shipments and reorganizing stock. I scrubbed all the shelves and cabinets until they gleamed. I brought in a carpet cleaner and spent all night clearing out the main area and steaming the carpets until they looked almost new. In all that time of mind-numbing cleansing and avoiding, I kept my phone off. I left the apartment early and returned late. I took the stairs to avoid the lift.
I did everything in my power to avoid everything and everyone because I was carved out. I was hollow and empty, and dead inside, and I didn’t know how to explain that to my friends without telling them everything. So, I ran, and I hid, and I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but I needed the time and space.
Maybe that made me an awful person.
Maybe it made me an even worse friend.
We talked about everything. We went through every life’s bumps together. There was nothing they didn’t know about me or I them, except this. I didn’t know how this would all play out. I didn’t know if this was the thing that made me lose them, too. Deep down, I didn’t think so, but there was always that 1% chance and it terrified me.
By the end of the fourth day, I knew my dodging days were over when the sound of keys in my locked apartment door disrupted my pathetic pity party. I knew it would be the girls even before their stream of angry chatter filled my foyer.
I pulled my comforter tighter around my pajamas and waited for the inevitable confrontation.
“Well, I see you weren’t brutally murdered in your sleep,” Lavena snapped, seeing me in my blanket burrito on the sofa with a half-eaten tray of Oreos and a nearly finished carton of chicken wings. She eyed the combination with recoiling horror. “Jesus, I didn’t think it would be this bad. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing!” I barked back. “I’m at home. I can eat whatever I want.”
Just to prove it, I took an aggressive chomp of the Oreo still in my hand.
“Oh, shit,” Kas mumbled from over Lavena’s shoulder, dark eyes surveying the rumpled state of me. “Are you sick?”
Lavena scoffed. “Plain chicken wings and Oreos. She’s definitely some type of sick.” She wagged a finger between the two. “That’s foul. You should be arrested for ruining chicken and Oreos.”
I rolled my eyes. “I haven’t had a chance to go grocery shopping. It’s all I had in the kitchen, okay?”
She sniffed. “Get up. We’re going out for proper food and a very in-depth conversation about why you thought you could try and hide from us.”
The very idea of unwrapping myself, dressing, and facing other people had me tightening my grip on the blanket. “I don’t want to—”
“Too bad. I don’t care what you don’t want to do. You’ve been avoiding us for days and you no longer get a vote since you’re clearly mentally incompetent.”
“Hey!” I protested, earning a raised eyebrow.
She marched deeper into my apartment, followed by the other two. “Do you deny it?”
I could only pick idly at the bit of crumb stuck to my hair.
“Rude,” Kas grumbled, plopping down in the armchair on my left. “Why are you avoiding us? Is it because I borrowed your filigree bracelet?”
“No … wait, what?” I stared at my best friend who blinked wide eyes at me.
“Nothing.”
“So, what then?” Lavena stalked over and dropped down on the sofa next to me, spraying cookie crumbs everywhere and nearly upending the cookie tray. “You’ve been weird since we left the cabin. What’s going on?”
I shrank in my blanket. “It’s nothing.”
Her eyes widened, sending her eyebrows up towards her hairline. “So, we’re lying to each other now?”
I winced, dropping my gaze, ashamed. “No.”
She placed a small, manicured hand on my knee, her tone and expression softening. “What’s going on?”
