The ball of guilt grows bigger, clogging my airways. It’s my fault. I refused to let anyone know. My pride disguised as the company’s interest meant more to me than her peace of mind.
“I’ll come back tonight.”
“Stay put, son. Let us figure things out for once.”
“But—”
“I’ll call you later with an update.”
I’m glued in the same spot until the sun is high in the sky, processing the situation.
JACKIE: Burner phone, I’m afraid.
Shit. What we have will come to an end soon. There’s no point in dwelling on it, but she still deserves an apology.
My body aches from sitting for so long, unmoving, mulling things over. Cooking dinner would be more productive. The beginning of an apology. Some steps and motions to keep me from going back on my decision to come clean. At this point, I’ve already given up so many long-kept secrets I’m starting to think she puts truth serum in that tea.
It’s late when she comes back and seems none too pleased to find me still lingering in her home.
“What’re you still doing here? Did you go through my drawers checking for a fat wad of cash? Or do you want to see my pathetic bank statement?” She’s seething and I’m just happy she’s not freezing me out.
She doesn’t move away from the door, and I don’t make any hasty moves. I don’t want her bolting until we’ve talked.
“I owe you an apology,” I say cautiously.
Eliza crosses her arms, shredding me with unrestrained annoyance. “Let’s hear it.”
God, I love it when she’s no longer hiding, standing up for herself, even if it’s at my expense. I fully deserve it.
“I’m sorry I accused you.” It’s strange how easily I can utter these words when apologies were a foreign concept in my vocabulary until I came here. “I didn’t have all the facts and I overacted.”
My father is probably rolling in his grave.
“Overreacted? You barged in here yelling! You didn’t even ask me anything, just pointed fingers and accused me of…of tricking you. Selling your story like…like…” She’s so flustered words fail her, but then she composes herself and pierces me with watery eyes.
Her tears are a knife twisting in my heart. I want to reach her, but she puts her palm up.
“People have called me a lot of names. But hearing you accuse me of selling you out? Nothing ever hurt so bad.”
“Eliza—” I whisper, gutted by her admission.
“Why do you even bother? You’ll be gone anyway, and it couldn’t be more obvious you don’t trust me.”
“I have a hard time trusting people. I’ve been burnt before.”
“If it’s the Alicia story again, I got the gist.” She drops her hands and her shoulders slump, finally moving closer to the pots on the cooker.
I want to wrap my hands around her and hold her tight, but I’ve got one chance to make this right with her and won’t risk it.
“Unfortunately, no. Let’s sit. Please.”
Eliza tilts her head, pinning me to the spot with her searching eyes. After a few seconds, she comes to a conclusion and motions us to the porch with a heavy sigh and we plop on the front steps. She’s looking out, her face devoid of any emotion, having already decided there’s nothing I can tell her worth her forgiveness.
Chapter Thirty-Three
CARTER
“My father was very controlling. What I’ve told you were just the little things. He kept me on a short leash all my life.”
