You’re safe, Angeline.
Yeah.Bullshit, Johnny.
I listened to Harry Styles on repeat in my earbuds all the way to Mom and Dad’s, because no one could make me cry—or stop crying—like Harry telling me to stop crying when he sang “Sign of the Times” to me. I mean, it felt like he was singing to me. And by the time my Uber dropped me in my parents’ driveway, I’d managed to run through the full cycle: ugly crying until the well ran dry, silent, wracking dry sobs, and finally, just focusing on breathing as I started to feel better about the whole thing. I had my crying song, I had my parents, I had my friends. I even had a sympathetic lady Uber driver.
I’d get through this, no matter what happened with Johnny.
I only hoped it wasn’t obvious I’d been balling my eyes out as I tried to touch up my makeup before heading into the house.
Yeah, it was obvious.
Mom was making brunch and Dad was reading the paper in the breakfast nook when I walked in. Their usual position on a Saturday morning. They didn’t ask me what I was doing here when I let myself in. I just gave Mom a hug from behind while she was plating omelettes, got a mug from the cupboard, poured myself a coffee and sat down at the table with Dad.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” Mom said as she went to pull more eggs from the fridge. “I would’ve made some for you.”
“Don’t. Please. I’m not hungry. All I need is coffee.”
“Angeline,” she gasped when she really saw my eyes. “Are you alright?”
“Of course I am,” I said lightly. “I’m here.”
She eyed me with concern but sat down to eat when I insisted, again, that I didn’t want any food.
Then they passed concerned looks between them as they asked me questions about the work I was doing for Johnny—what they probably assumed was a safe, neutral topic—and I answered while neatly avoiding the fact that I was also screwing him, falling in love with him, crying my eyes out over him, and that I had no idea if he was about to imminently shatter my heart into pieces.
As soon as Dad was done eating, he got up to make me breakfast even though I told him not to. I wasn’t even sure what I was doing here except that it felt comforting having my parents dote on me, even when it annoyed me a little. They loved me so much, I could never be mad at them for trying too hard. They just wanted me to be safe, healthy and happy.
The doorbell rang while I was picking at my food and Mom went to get it. I’d been indulging my dad, encouraging him to ramble about the state of the housing market and rising interest rates, his favorite topics, when Mom returned. With Johnny.
The eggs on my fork missed my mouth and tumbled into my lap as his aquamarine eyes met mine.
“Good morning,” he said, looking so fine in his white slub cotton T-shirt, tight jeans and tattoos. His hair was neat, but he could’ve used a shave and he looked tired.
I stood up, eggs tumbling off my lap to the floor. “Hi.” I brushed off my dress. I wore a yellow cotton baby-doll because it was supposed to be warm today but all I really wanted to do was stay in bed, and this felt like pajamas. I was half sure I was going to go crash in my old bedroom and feel sorry for myself after I forced myself to eat.
But Johnny’s gaze drifted over me like I was the best thing he’d ever seen, and the sick feeling I realized I’d been clutching deep in the pit of my stomach—ever since I woke up in his bed this morning to find him gone—melted away.
“Do you mind if we talk?” he said gently. I wasn’t totally sure if he was talking to me or to my parents.
“Why don’t you go out on the patio?” Mom suggested. When I looked at her but didn’t budge, still a little stunned that Johnny had just magically appeared, she prompted me, “I’ll bring out some lemonade.”
“Okay.” I glanced at Johnny. “I should just clean up this mess…”
Mom shooed me away before I could bend to scoop the eggs off the floor. “I’ll take care of it. You go on outside and enjoy the sunshine.”
“Thank you.” I gave her cheek a quick kiss, which surprised her, then crossed the room to grab Johnny’s hand and lead him straight outside. If my parents thought there was anything suspicious about me holding my client’s hand—they did, for sure—they didn’t say anything about it as we headed out the sliding door to the patio. I shut it firmly behind us. “They’re nice, but nosey,” I explained.
Johnny pulled out one of the chairs at the outdoor dining table for me, then one for himself next to it, angling them to face one another. “So… what are you doing here?” he said, as we sat down.
“Well…” I glanced at the house, but I couldn’t see my parents through the windows into the kitchen. The mid-morning sun glaring off them was too bright.Fuck it.I was going with the truth. I met his eyes. “The thing is… the other day, when you disappeared and I decided to keep working, for you, and then I found you drowning your sorrows at a bar last night with those girls all over you… it terrified me.”
I could see his remorse, written all over his face.
But when he opened his mouth to speak, I touched a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Listen. If you’re headed down that road, the one where you disappear to get wasted whenever life gets shitty and then let random girls climb all over you as some sort of fucked-up avoidance therapy, that’s your prerogative. I’ve seen that road, while hanging out in my sister’s word. I’m really not as naïve as I am nice. I know some men choose that road at some point in their lives. But I am not coming along for that ride. I deserve so much better than that. Not only from my client, but from my boyfriend.”
Johnny swallowed, taking that in. His dark eyebrows twisted. “You’re right.”
“Layered on top of that truth,” I went on, “is the fact that I care about you. Deeply. If that comes as a surprise to you, then maybe you’re the naïve one. I know I haven’t said it out loud before, but that’s just because I’m scared. My history with men is… messy. My entire experience as a girl growing into a woman has been in my sister’s shadow. I’ve admired men like you from afar all my life but hooked up with other ones instead, denying myself what I really want, all because I never felt special enough to deserve a man like you. A man who’s in the spotlight all the time because he’s so talented, special, gorgeous—”
