I quickly chew, then swallow the bite I took before saying, “Neil, do you think he …” I trail off, not even wanting to say out loud the thoughts that run through my head.
“Ugh, okay, okay. Hey, Desi, I’m so sorry, but I have to cut this call short. Putting out all types of fires over here.”
“Okay.” I do my best not to pout. I realize Jackie is extremely busy in her new job, but she didn’t even get a chance to tell me about the guy that’s been taking up her time. And I know it’s a guy because of the tone of her voice when she saidother stuff.
I finish my tuna sandwich and resolve to get in contact with Jackie soon to make her tell me what’s going on. Besides, I do want to ask her about Neil. I hope that she will be the one to help me put all of my doubts to the side. After all, she worked with Neil. She would know more than anyone if there was something shady happening in the rehab.
After the short conversation, I toss the trash from my impromptu lunch into the garbage and get back to work on the cookies. Things are going so well that I think maybe I’ll have enough time to finish the cookies and then stop by a gift store where I saw some fabulous boxes and wrapping paper that would be perfect for wrapping them in. Typically, I have special boxes or packaging that I use, but I don’t have enough for this order.
As I remove the last batch of the red velvet cookies from the oven, a sense of pride and accomplishment comes over me. I still have to complete the chocolate chip cookies, but I prepared the dough for those already.
I give the red velvet cookies time to settle on the cooling rack and then move to the counter to pick up my phone and call the store I was thinking of earlier. After being assured that they would set aside enough boxes and gift wrap for my order, I hang up and start to search for a pen to write a note for Neil. It’s almost four-thirty, and he should be home within the next hour or so. Since I’ll be out picking up the boxes, I want to leave him a plate of freshly baked cookies to have once he comes in.
I search through the drawers but can’t find anything to write out the note. I peer through the overhead cabinets and don’t see anything. Lastly, I head over to the entertainment center, opening one of the bottom drawers, searching for a pen or marker, and I almost tumble over at the bottle I see pushed to the back.
In a state of disbelief, I bend lower, reaching all the way in, and remove a bottle of Smirnoff vodka. What’s even more surprising is that the bottle is half-filled, meaning someone opened and drank it.
Hoping against hope, I twist the cap to open it and sniff inside. My shoulders slump and my eyelids close as the smell of alcohol hits my nose. I desperately wanted the bottle to be full of water or something … anything besides vodka.
A memory of finding Deirdre’s hidden stash of drugs inside a decorative bowl on my coffee table comes rushing back. The feeling of betrayal soon follows as I stand there, holding the Smirnoff bottle in my hand.
My mother’s words of warning, the shouts from the man the other night at the holiday party, and my doubts come back to me. In that moment, I realize I’ve gone and done it again. I’ve let another person I love to deceive me.
Trembling with emotion, I turn back to the kitchen. As quickly as I can, I manage to pack up all of the cookies I’ve baked, the remaining ingredients, and the cooking supplies I’ve brought over. Reminding myself that this time, I am not going to be the fool to another liar, I neatly lay Neil’s key on the kitchen counter and head for the door.
Chapter 16
Two days later, I find myself sitting outside of my parents’ home, willing myself to climb out of my car and go inside. My chest feels so heavy. I don’t even know how I’m still managing to breathe. Yet, I am, as evidenced by the fact that I feel the pain with every inhale and exhale.
It’s been two days since I’ve left Neil’s place. I refuse to speak to him even though he’s called and texted repeatedly. I sent him one text after I left, letting him know I knew about his secret, and that was it. He continues to call. While I understand the smart thing to do would be to block his number, I can’t bring myself to do it.
So, I’m here. At my parents’ on Christmas Eve, trying to get myself together before I go inside and eat crow. After all of this, I get to tell my mother she was right about Neil.
Tears well up in my eyes, and I try to blink them away, but it’s pointless. They stream down my face, and I have to search through my glove compartment for some tissue.
Dabbing at my eyes, I peer up into the rearview mirror, trying hard not to mess up my makeup. I send up a little prayer that my family won’t be able to tell I’ve been crying for the past two days, but I know that also is pointless. Anyone with eyes will be able to see that I’m a wreck. But when my father called me and all but begged me to make it to the family Christmas Eve dinner, I didn’t have the heart to turn him down.
“Ouch!” I yelp when I mindlessly reach over for my bag and jam my fingers against the Smirnoff bottle. Don’t ask me why I’ve carried the bottle in my bag since I left Neil’s place. Nothing I’m doing makes any sense to me. I’m just grateful I was able to hold myself together long enough to complete Xavier Grant’s order. As soon as the delivery people picked up the order, I let myself fall apart.
Sighing, I get out of the car and hike my bag up over my shoulder before heading for the door.
“There’s my baby girl,” my daddy says as he pulls the door open. He spreads his arms wide, and I fall into his embrace, comforted by his strong hold. I nuzzle my face against the harsh material of his sweater, uncaring that it’ll mess up my makeup.
My father pulls away with his hands gripping my shoulders as he stares down at me. “Desi, have you been crying?”
I shake my head but only halfway. What’s the point of lying? But I know admitting the truth to his question will only lead to me having to tell the entire story.
“Is Mom here?” I question.
With pinched eyebrows, he nods. “Yes, of course. She’s down in our bedroom, still getting ready before the rest of the family arrives.”
Stepping inside, I make a beeline for my parents’ bedroom, not bothering to explain my actions to my father. I ignore the low strumming piano sounds that play the most popular Christmas songs, the beautifully decorated tree, and even the delicious smell of the baked ham, collard greens, and other sides I know my mother prepared.
“Mom,” I say as I knock and enter the bedroom at the same time.
“Desiree,” she says, shocked as she spins away from dressing in the mirror. “What’s wrong?”
I move to the bed, collapsing on it, and finally let the tears I’ve been holding release. “You were right,” I say. My vision is blurry, but I feel the bed dip as my mother comes to sit on it.
