Bitterness?
Maybe a combination of all three.
I’m jealous of the love that they have for each other, knowing they were able to reconnect after such a long time apart.
I’m content with the life that I live, and I know I don’t need anyone or anything for me to be happy.
But I’m bitter, too. Bitter knowing that a love like that doesn’t exist for a person like me, and if there was, I’d probably run from it before it had the chance to show its full potential.
In short, living in my brain is a fucking chaotic mess, and I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.
“Oh, J, see out there?” Cassandra says, shoving her arm out the window as we drive past a huge open field with trucks and construction workers unloading some sort of equipment. I nod as Harley slows the car down slightly. “That’s where they’re building the outdoor cinema for the summer.” She smiles at me over her shoulder.
She told me all about it after her wedding, and how the idea came to her when Harley complained that the TV in their bedroom was too small.
“I already haveShe’s The Manon rotation for you. Once a night, just in case.”
“You know me too well.” I smile.
We drive the rest of the way in silence, and I notice how little Grangewood Creek is compared to California. I may not be excited about being away from home, but Iamlooking forward to a nights sleep without hearing cars driving past, live music playing at all hours of the night, and the smell of smoke crawling through my bedroom window.
“We’re here,” Cassandra sings out once we pull into the car park of what used to be the Mercury Hotel. Ever since Harley and Robbie renovated it, it’s now known as the Wing-Cross Apartments. “Last chance to change your mind and stay with us for three months,” she says, a slight beg in her tone.
“Respectfully, C, I would rather not be down the hall from someone I view as a sister while her husband does questionable things to her for the whole town to hear. I don’t want to need earplugs just to be able to sleep,” I say, watching Harley’samused expression in his rear-view mirror as he dips his head with a laugh.
Harley parks the car, and the three of us step out. I stretch my arms over my head while straightening my legs with a groan. The journey here overall has taken roughly five hours, and I’m spent.
“Marv. How’s it going?” Harley greets an older man, dressed in a maroon suit, white shirt, with a matching maroon tie.
“Mr. Wingrove.” Marv gives Harley a curt nod before holding his hands out to take some of my things. His hair is white and slicked over. Round glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose touching his forehead, and he has deep crows feet at the corners of his tired, but kind, eyes.
I bet he would accept nervously baked cupcakes, unlike Julius.
“This is Jenna Rogers.” Harley gestures to me and I give my new friend an awkward wave before clutching my purse in front of my body. “Jenna is staying in room one on the first floor.” Harley breaks eye contact with Marv and continues emptying the contents of his trunk while Marv gives me a tight-lipped smile.
“I’ll see to it that her bags are taken straight to her room, Mr. Wingrove,” Marv says, his tone firm but light, and I know he views Harley as someone who deserves his respect.
“Marv is here if you needanything, Jen,” Cassandra tells me before pulling me in for a hug. “Even rental cars. But we’ve already arranged for one for you.” She flicks her head toward the G-Wagon Harley bought her before squeezing me tight.
“Got it.” I nod, shimmying out of her grasp, and she takes the hint, letting me go.
“Sorry.” She laughs. “We’ll come pick you up before Olive’s show.” Harley opens the door for her, letting her get in, and shuts it gently before he turns to face me.
“See, ladies? It’s not that hard to close a door softly.” Rolling his eyes playfully, he taps on the side of his wife’s door. “It’s good to have you here, Rogers,” he tells me before wrapping his big arms around me for a quick hug goodbye. “See you later.”
“Thanks for picking me up from the airport and dropping me off. See you later,” I tell them both through Cassandra’s open window as I pat Harley’s shoulder. He rounds the car, getting in. They both smile and wave as he drives them back into town.
“Wow, this place is stunning,” I say under my breath as I wheel a suitcase behind me. A duffle bag is slung over one shoulder, and my purse is thrown over the other. Marv is lugging two more of my suitcases along with the second duffle bag. He offered to take them both from me, but I assured him I was okay.
We walk through a huge foyer, decked out in black, cloud-like couches, a flat screen TV, and even a coffee machine. There’s also an ice maker, and a bar tucked away in the corner.
“Mr. Wingrove and Mr. Crossland spared no expense.” He nods at me with a smile, as if able to read my mind, and I can tell he’s slowly feeling more comfortable in my presence like I am in his. “This is you,” Marv says, motioning to the door with the number one painted in a metallic gold at eye height. I know my best friend played a part in designing at leastsomeof this place.
After all, gold is her signature color.
“Thanks, Marv.”
Helping me wheel everything inside, he says, “Please contact me if you need anything, and I will be able to assist. Think of me as your personal assistant while you’re living in the Wing-Cross Apartments. If you need a cab to take you from here to somewhere in town, I will arrange one for you. If you’re hungry and don’t want to cook, I will organize a meals on wheels type of service from Wingrove Estates,” he says, and I hadn’t realized just how rich Harley Wingrove was until this exact moment.
