“She’s home?” And how long has she been there exactly?
“Yup.” He nods, and I grab my things, closing out the register. “What are you gonna do?”
I pause for a moment and say, “I’m gonna talk to her.”
He eyes me, and framing the sentence as a question, says, “And keep a cool head?”
Shame spirals through me again, and I calm myself down. The hope I’ve been feeling in the last ten seconds is still pulsing under my skin, but I nod my head. “Of course, sir.”
“Good man.”
I’ve always been a big pacer. Something about the energy that buzzes beneath my skin makes it nearly impossible for me to hold still, and being that I was about to see the love of my life again for the first time since I nearly ruined everything, that energy was at an all-time high.
I see the light from the living room on through the curtains, along with the sounds of a children’s movie playing. I don’t want to bombard Birdie, but I couldn’t stop myself from knocking on this door if I tried.
Letting my knuckles hit it softly, I stuff my hands in my pockets and take a step back, giving her space.
When the door opens and her face comes into view, I feel my heart beat faster, as if to say,there she is, let me have her!But I keep a calm, cool expression on my face and give her a small smile.
“Can we talk?” I ask, not stepping forward, not making the moves my body is pressing for me to do.
She glances behind her, and Hattie must know what’s happening because Birdie steps out without concern for Rora. That means I’m not invited in.
That’s okay.
That doesn’t hurt… too much.
“What do you want to talk about?” Birdie’s arms are folded over her chest, her oversized sweater wrapping around her like a blanket, and her long honey-blonde hair flows in soft waves around her face.
She is breathtaking, always will be.
“I’ve been calling,” I start, rather lamely, honestly.
“I know. I’ve been really busy and…” She pauses, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. She keeps her eyes trained on me, not an ounce of fear in her expression. Though, there is a heaping dose of sadness that I absolutely hate to see. “I’ve been trying to decide what to say back.”
I nod my head, my palms sweating in my pockets. “I understand. The way I behaved was despicable behavior, Birdie. I didn’t mean anything I said about you not helping. I was embarrassed and caught off guard.” I let my shoulders drop. “But that’s no excuse. I treated you badly, and I never, ever want to be someone who treats you badly.”
I see her work her jaw, and the light from the front porch catches her eyes. When I see the tears forming there, I take a step forward, but her hand comes up to stop me. “You did. You yelled at me when all I wanted was to help you.”
My throat starts to close, my brows furrow, and my eyes water as I watch the woman I love hurt. And there isn’t anything I can do about it.
“I thought.” Her head shakes as she thinks through what she wants to say. “Gosh, even thinking about saying what I was thinking is stupid now, embarrassing.”
I take a desperate step forward, and her scent hits me then, nearly making my knees buckle. “Say it.”
Birdie’s tongue sticks in her cheek, and her first tear slips past her eyelid and runs down her face. “I thought maybe this would be my future too. I hate my job, you know I do.”I nod, my chest cracking open at seeing and hearing her disappointment. Disappointment in me. “I had this fantasy, I guess. Something in my head where you and I work together, where the store could become our story, you know? How we brought it back to honor your dad and kept it going and”—her head shakes again—“saying it out loud really sounds dumb. You never promised me any of that.”
“I did though,” I say in a rush, feeling this dream—this beautiful, wonderful, magnificent dream—of hers slipping through our fingers with every word. “I promised to love you, to care for you, to help you through all of the things life brought our way, and when you pushed a little on the business, I freaked out. I didn’t want you to know the truth, I didn’t want you to know that I was draining my accounts, going in the negative weekly to keep things afloat.” I swallow hard, my eyes desperately conveying how deeply sorry I am. “I was beyond embarrassed, Birdie. No one knew what was going on.”
For several moments, we stare at each other in silence. Me, memorizing every detail of her pretty face, wondering how I was such an idiot and nearly threw this all away over pride. Her, well, I don’t know what she’s looking for, but I don’t like the resigned look on her face.
“Well.” Finally, she speaks, and I hold my breath to see what she says. “I guess, I’m sorry for overstepping—”
“You did not overstep,” I say, louder than I mean to, but frustration beats at my chest. and desperation has me spilling my guts. “You were looking out for me, forourbusiness,” I say “our” with purpose, hoping she’s hearing what I’m really saying. “I’ve been an idiot, Birdie. One of the dumbest men on the planet. I should have talked to you.”
“You should have,” she agrees, but it doesn’t feel like we’re getting anywhere. We’re just talking in circles. “But I still am sorry for ambushing you. That wasn’t my intention.”
“And I’m sorry for talking to you that way,” I say, again, apologizing for being an idiot. “I should have never done that, and I swear, I will never do it again.”
