The moment Dahlia asks, I see the doors slam shut in Wilder’s eyes.
“Do you want to go grab some lunch for us?” I pass her my card. “Since we’ll probably be here for a while.”
She leaves but not before casting a worried frown at her ex.
“That just bought you ten minutes. Better sort that explanation.”
“I miss her, that’s all.”
“Have you thought of not screwing every other girl in sight?” Maddox says.
“I tried.” Wilder folds his arms and looks even more miserable. “It didn’t work. It seemed easier to make some money to win her back and instead I got…” He waves at his face.
Maddox looks completely out of his depth. “Why couldn’t you stop?”
“I don’t know why,” Wilder explodes, getting to his feet, seriously agitated. “It’s not like I even enjoy it any longer. Now she hates me, and I hate myself.”
“Stop that. I don’t hate you,” Dahlia scolds, walking back into the room, obviously having listened to the entire conversation. “What?” she says when I frown. “Like you have a problem with eavesdropping?”
Wilder sniggers at the small burn. “So, you’ll come back?”
“No.” Dahlia stares him squarely in the eye. “I’m never going to be your girl again. Ever. But if you stop acting like a colossal jerk, I might stick around as your friend. There are groups for it, you know.”
“Being a jerk?”
“Being a sex-addict,” she holds up her hand to stem his immediate protest. “If that’s what you are. If not, talking to people who share similar traits might still help.”
Dahlia turns in a small circle. “And, while you’re all here, I’m commandeering this room. We’ve formed a new group to be the elites at this school and none of you made the cut.”
“You don’t just get to decide,” Maddox says with a scowl.
“It was Evie’s suggestion. If you don’t like it, you can fight with her.”
A thought that makes me laugh. I doubt he’d last three seconds. “Guess we’re giving up the clubroom, then. Can I have my card back?”
“Haven’t you heard? I’m a gold digger, darling. You’re never seeing it again.”
She and Wilder head downstairs and I tap Maddox, so he holds back. “Yeah?”
Working through my baggage with Avon reminded me she’s not the only one owed an explanation. “I just… what Avon said about the night of the party, about how I was with her…”
His jaw tightens and I feel it again, the bonds of our friendship stretching. My voice softens in response, becoming conciliatory.
“It wasn’t like that with Addie, okay? It’s only ever happened that way with Stevenson’s girls. It’s…” My shoulders slump, then I straighten. If this is a confession, I should at least own it. “Because I was paying, I asked for more, but I never did anything like that without a contract in place and the girls knowing exactly what would happen.”
I can’t read a single change in his expression but his rigid posture eases. “Okay.” He turns to head downstairs, then spins around, curious. “What’s happening with Avon? Did your apology work?”
“It’s currently under revision.”
The light answer would usually satisfy him but perhaps it’s a day for holding each other to account because he maintains his level gaze. “Evie and Dahlia really rate her.”
I nod, about to say the ball’s in her court, when I stop and acknowledge it’s still in mine. Being supportive when horrible things happen isn’t the same as being a worthy partner.
Over the past few days, I’ve been playing back our time on an endless loop, trying to see all the ways it could have been different. Rewinding. Fast forwarding. Examining every interaction again, again, again to try to find the pieces where I went wrong and there are so many of them, I might never come to the end of this game.
I could have done nothing after, just waited and observed until patience showed me an opportunity. I could have sent Maddox to her with a blank cheque and an apology instead of conditions.
I could have asked if her name was Tricia, then sat beside her, offering comfort until she revealed what had upset her enough to burst into tears in a stranger’s room.
