“You just said we were good.”
Yeah, and as I mentioned above, I don’t know what any of that conversation means, but instead of saying anything, I march up to the man and take my basket back. He hands it over without a fight, and I stomp right over to my ancient hatchback.
“Colette?”
I look at him. “What?”
“I’m sorry.”
Me, too.
Seriously.Me, too.I’m angry at him when I should probably give him a chance.
Why won’t I?
I could come up with an excuse like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed (I did) or that I’m PMSing (I am) but the truth is, this is all territory I haven’t handled well in the past. Historically, my first instinct, when my relationships start to unravel, is to bail. To turn inward in order to protect myself.
Only…
He’s trying and I’m not. And I can’t seem to find my way out of my own vicious cycle.
I slide into my car and pull out of my driveway as fast as possible so he can’t see the tears. I couldn’t stand it if he saw me cry.
****
“I should have brought a book.” I guess I have the app on my phone, but I hate reading books on that. But I need something to do while my clothes spin in the washer, or I’ll spend the entire time thinking about you-know-who. With a sigh, I pull my phone out of my bag and see a bunch of messages.
I stare in disbelief. They’re all from my sisters, telling me to “Call them immediately.” My ringer must be off. I look at the side and see that it is, in fact, off. With shaking hands, I press on the first name listed. When she answers, I say, “What’s wrong, Candy?”
“Where the fuck have you been?”
“Doing laundry?”
“We’ve been calling for almost an hour. You need to get to the hospital. It’s Dad…”
I don’t even bother listening to anymore. I hang up the phone, grab my purse, and I’m gone.
Chapter Twenty-One
Where Is She?
Sam
I’ve been sitting on my front porch off and on for several hours waiting for Colette to get back from doing her laundry. After she tore out of her driveway, I took some time to think about everything that had happened. The night I ran into Amber, I fucked up with Colette. Huge. Since then, I’ve done everything in my power to avoid my little neighbor. I mean, how can I admit to her that my ex-wife made me feel like shit? That I’ve spent the better part of a week wondering why Amber would choose to have a kid withthatguy and not me?
All of that put doubt in my mind. Self-doubt. Something I’m not used to or comfortable with. No matter how shitty I felt about myself, though, my mind kept returning to Colette. And I questioned things like: Wouldshedecide I wasn’t good enough to have kids with, too? Would she break up with me and find the next guy to knock her up? What’s wrong with me that a woman wouldn’t want to have kids with me?
Then, when I woke up this morning, the sun was streaming through my bedroom window, and I realized that I was being ridiculous. That our issues, Amber’s and mine, ran deeper than just fighting over starting a family. It was just the topic we couldn’t get past. Things with Amber had been bad for a long time. Hell, we were high school sweethearts, as they say. I was the quarterback, she was the head cheerleader. It was one of those clichéd relationships and one that, after years together, felt forced. Amber was the one who chose to end it, but I didn’t fight her. We split everything up, and that was it. It was easy and, to be honest, a fucking relief.
I guess it took the sun shining in my face this morning to help me realize that things aren’t as bad as they seem. I had something good happening with Colette. Something I never had with Amber. A friendship that was also sexy as hell. Amber and I were never friends.
And that’s why I’m sitting here waiting. I want to see my friend. Talk to her and maybe tell her all this stuff so she gets why I’ve been an asshole this week. I tried earlier, but in retrospect, I can see why it didn’t work. I was too vague. I didn’t really say anything. And she deserves my words. All of them.
With a sigh, I decide to head back into my place. I’ll hear her when she returns. Her car isn’t the quietest. I think she needs a new muffler, and that’s something I can do for her. I’m not the greatest with cars, but easy repairs like that aren’t a problem.
It’s the least I can do.
Now, all I need is for her to give me the opportunity to talk this out with her. If I can do that, I believe she’ll give me another chance. At least I hope so.
