I ignored the knock on the door the first time. And the second. When the third one came, I gave up and went to tell whoever it was to go to hell.
“Hello, Carson.” Both of Renee’s hands clenched the strap of her purse as she held it in front of herself like an overpriced leather shield. I guess she’d left the arrogant posturing, the pretense of being one-hundred percent perfect every minute of every fucking day, in her other bag. There were no bruises that I could see. No ring on the special finger either—engagement or wedding.
I stood there silently, not having spoken to anyone but myself since leaving the board meeting. The only person I wanted to talk to was living her life somewhere else, hopefully dealing better than I was.
“Can I come in?” Renee asked.
I didn’t want to fight. It just wasn’t in me anymore. So I nodded and stepped back. Renee had never been to my place, but I hoped she wasn’t expecting a tour. She wandered, chatting nervously about the kitchen and the furniture.
“Not there!” I shouted before she put her bag on Lane’s table. I couldn’t get rid of it—not yet, maybe not ever—but I didn’t want to see it, so I’d covered it with a sheet. Eventually I’d donate it somewhere it could be admired and not be a constant reminder of what a fuck-up I was. Eventually…but not now.
“I’ll get my checkbook.” I was already on my way. Just sign the bottom and leave the rest blank, then shove her out.
“I didn’t come here for money, Carson.” She sat on the edge of the couch, her hands resting in her lap. Her knuckles were white, something the people she conned wouldn’t have noticed. Something I didn’t want to see, because it meant that whatever she was here to say made her uncomfortable. And that made me uncomfortable.
“What do you want?”
“To apologize.” She let out a breath, smoothed her skirt. “I need to apologize, because even if you never want anything to do with me again, I want you to be happy.”
“Cool.” Thumbs up for her. “Thanks for stopping by.” I hadn’t sat down, so it was a quick trip to the door, hinting she should leave.
She didn’t move. “I could tell you I didn’t know how much it affected you, and that each time we went back to him, I thought things would be different. And that would all be true…but it would also be an excuse.”
Shit. Why now? Why was she doing this now? Was today the twenty-year anniversary of my first smackdown? Or maybe seven years ago today, I gave up on her and got the fuck out of her latest husband’s house.
Should I pretend I didn’t know what she was talking about? Or would agreeing get her out of here faster? I had tile to replace.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Water under a bridge or whatever.”
“Your father loved us, Carson. I gave him too many chances because I loved him just as much. He used to tell me he’d stop and we would be happy. He also used to tell me that I’d be nothing if I left him and that I wouldn’t be able to feed you or give you a home. You and your brother would be less than you could be because I selfishly took the life we had away from you.”
“I said it’s fine, Renee.” I didn’t want to hear any more. She needed to go away before my headache got worse and all civility was gone. “And I meant it’s fine.”
“You couldn’t be more different than him. Can you imagine him doing any of the good you have? When you gave away your entire inheritance, I was afraid you’d given away your chance at a good life, the life your father promised me you’d have.”
“Good to know,” was all I could manage, my tone flat, my need to be alone fucking enormous.
“I stopped trusting myself a long time ago, so I thought everything I did was wrong. But if I’d known what it was doing to you, what it’s still doing to you…” Blinking, she sat up taller. “I’ve spent most of my life believing things that weren’t true, that I deserved no more than I was given. And because of that, you’ve done the same—”
“Stop talking!” If my hands weren’t squeezing the sides of my head, I swear it would’ve exploded. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you here. You have no idea what I feel or what I’ve done, so don’t pretend. I can see through it, Renee. I’ve always been able to see through it.”
She was quiet for a moment, watching her hands tighten around each other before standing and picking up her purse. “I understand. Maybe another day. Whenever you’re ready. I’m trying to change, Carson. I am. And in order to do that, I can’t be dependent on other people.” She took an envelope out of her purse and set it down on the coffee table. Her name and address in my handwriting on the outside, the checks I’d sent her inside. “It’s not all of them. I intend to pay you back as soon as I can.”
Huh. “That’s why checks aren’t used anymore—nobody knows how to balance a checkbook.” Especially me. I’d thought they were all been cashed. Assumed they’d been, because it was the only thing I’d ever offered her, the only connection we had. “Keep them.” I picked up the envelope and held it out. “If you’re really going to change things, then think of it like a business investment. There are always start-up costs.”
“I can’t.”
“It’s my money. I get to decide who I spend it on.”
She hesitated before taking the checks and putting them back into her purse. “Thank you.”
I could tell she was trying, that she wasn’t here to argue or spout more excuses about what she’d done. It was something—she hadn’t cashed the checks, she’d tried to give them back, and she was here when she’d obviously rather be anywhere else. That was something…I guess.
“Laney came to Los Angeles to talk to me.”
And that stopped any positive feelings that had shown up in the last few minutes. “Don’t.” I didn’t want to know Lane was still thinking about me, caring about me. She was supposed to be moving on to someone better.
“She asked me not to tell you that, but I’m not going to lie to my sons anymore.”
“I don’t want to talk about her.”
“She came because she knew how badly you were hurting.”
“Don’t,” I said through clenched teeth. “Please.”
“She loves you.”
“Stop! Just stop!” I waited until the reverb of my yell had completely gone away. “I can’t…do this right now. It’s too much. I need to process it a little but maybe… Is your phone number the same?” Did I say that because I cared or because it might get her to leave?
She nodded quickly, encouraged by a few words spoken with a broken spirit. “I’m going to go see Anna.”
“That’s good.” Maybe they could help each other. “She has more going on now, and she needs somebody.”
“You do, too.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you?”
I was silent for as long as I could manage, not wanting anyone to see how weak I was. Especially not her.
“Are you, Carson?”
“No.”
She stepped forward slowly. “I want to help you. Tell me what I should do. Anything, please.”
“Why didn’t you send me away like you did with Hayden?” I stood there stunned that I’d actually said it. Why now? After all this time, I finally had the balls to ask her. I’d always been too afraid of her answer to say the words. Now I guess I didn’t have anything left to lose. I couldn’t feel any more than I was already feeling. “Why did you make sure he was safe, but not me?”
Her purse fell to the floor, tears welling in her eyes, her shoulders sagging. “Because I needed my baby boy with me. Your father would have killed Hayden. He almost did. But you were so beautiful and sweet, and you could make him laugh.”
“When he wasn’t beating the shit out of me. Didn’t stop him from doing that, did it? Didn’t stop the ones after him, either.” I heard her inhale quickly, as if she was barely holding it together. Good. “But in all fairness, I wasn’t so beautiful and sweet by then.”
“Yes, you were.” She lifted her head slowly. “You still are. I know ho
w wrong it was, but back then I needed you to take care of me. Like you’ve always done for Anna and like you’d do for Laney if you let yourself get close enough. But she doesn’t need you to protect her—she needs you to love her. And you need her to love you.”
“I can’t—”
“Please don’t let your father be the reason you lose something else.”
I didn’t look at her or stop her from coming closer. Or from wrapping her arms around me while she cried. I didn’t stop myself, either.
Chapter 45 - Laney
I dumped cream and sugar in my coffee and headed straight for the door, stirring as I moved. Despite what I’d always believed, apparently you can get jetlag flying from L.A. to San Francisco. My brain was screwed up, but still able to cause excruciating pain around my temples. Although, it had felt like that even before I went to L.A.
My weekend of regrouping and coming up with a plan for the rest of my life had turned into a weekend of sitting in a hotel room and crying over commercials. Not even sappy commercials. Paper towels shouldn’t make people cry, they just shouldn’t.
Now that I was back in S.F. and had my coffee, I needed to start packing. My apartment would be easy, my shop much less so. At least I didn’t have to worry about all the pieces the Bennett Foundation bought. I’d wrap them tomorrow, so they’d be ready to go for the delivery guys on Tuesday. With so many pieces going, I wanted to be there to make sure they were handled properly. But no way would I get within two-hundred feet of the foundation, not with the chance I’d see Carson again.
It would take me a week to get through all the refinishing projects I’d already been paid for, and that was if I worked eighteen-hour days. Long days would actually work really well, though. If my focus was on anything other than what I was doing, I’d end up chiseling a finger off or leaving fingerprints in urethane and having to completely start over.
I saw Carson before he saw me, but only by a few seconds—enough time to start jogging for the other exit.
“Lane,” he called loudly. “Wait up! A minute, thirty seconds, whatever I can get. Please!”
I stopped. A minute of my life wasn’t too much to ask, was it? Plus, like an idiot, I wanted to talk to him. As hurtful as I knew it would be, I couldn’t help wanting to see him again.
He looked tired, as if he’d been working too much. Or not sleeping enough. I didn’t want to read into the shallowness of his breath or how wide open his eyes were or how his fingers tapped his thighs rapidly. It didn’t mean anything. With Carson, there was no reading between the lines. Because Carson didn’t have lines.
He had walls.
“Thanks for...” He stayed a few feet away, his hands in his pockets. “How are you?”
Really? How did he think I was? “Been better.” This was a terrible idea.
“Can we talk somewhere for a couple minutes? No strings.”
“You get me to agree to a minute and now you want a couple?” I joked. “Seems a little greedy, doesn’t it?” But I’d give it to him. It was too hard not to.
You never walk away from someone just once. Sure, the big dramatic one is important, but it’s all the little ones before and after that really matter. Walking out a door and slamming it behind you is easy. Getting someone out of your mind and your soul… That’s the hard part.
Every time you avoid going somewhere, so you won’t see him and every time you run away if you do. Every time you switch the song that’s playing because it reminds you of him. Every time you walk into a room and know exactly why everyone is staring. Every choice you make to keep yourself from thinking about him. Those are the things that wear you down.
“What do you want, Carson?”
“Not here. We can talk at my place.”
“No.” I couldn’t even get a single word out without my voice faltering. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He wiped his hand over his mouth, rubbing the stubble on his cheek. “I want you to take your coffee table back. And get all the stuff out of your drawer.”
God, I was pathetic. Did I really think he was going to suddenly say all the things I wanted him to, or even thank me and tell me how much our time together had changed him? Unfortunately, yes, that’s what I’d been hoping. But nope, he just wanted to get my crap out of his life.
“I’ll send someone—”
“I want it out now. Not tomorrow or three hours from now. This second, I want it gone.”
“Fine,” I snapped. I’d dump the table in the trash, because I didn’t want it either. And the stuff in my—his—drawer? I didn’t even remember what was in there. It had become so normal so fast, and it hadn’t meant anything for him to give it to me. Not like now. Now I guess it meant a lot to him. Fine, he didn’t want reminders of me around his place? Well, I didn’t want him to be reminded of me. So I’d take my crap and throw it away somewhere, and he’d never have to see it again.
He walked a step behind me as I stomped to his place, taking the stairs because I wouldn’t be able to handle standing in an elevator with him for thirty seconds. As soon as we were one flight up, I realized my mistake. This was where everything had started—and continued. I couldn’t do this. Just before I turned around to tell him he should throw all my stuff out his fucking window if he wanted, I felt his hand on my waist.
“Don’t touch me.” My voice reflected the mess I was emotionally—weak, confused, scared as shit that this was going to make me hurt more or make the pain last longer. “You can’t touch me.”
His hand disappeared, but I still couldn’t turn around. If I did he’d be right there, and I’d have to look into his eyes, and I just couldn’t do that again. So I kept moving forward, away from him but towards his apartment, trapped on both sides by something I wanted but couldn’t have.
I waited for him to unlock the door, standing back with my arms crossed. When I followed him in, I noticed he’d moved the coffee table and covered it with a sheet. It stung. He didn’t even want to look at a part of me, and I was so easy to put out of his life. But mostly it was because all I could think about was him bringing some woman back here and not wanting anything around that reminded him of the last girl he fucked. The last one he—
“My mother came by,” he said, stopping and blocking my way. Why couldn’t he just let me do what I came here for and then let me leave? “She said some good stuff.”
“That’s nice,” I mumbled when it seemed like he expected me to respond.
“I was thinking of going down to Southern Cal for a few days. Probably rent a car and go to San Diego after spending some time with her. We’re trying to start over.”
“That’s great.” It was what I wanted, why I’d gone to see Renee. Sadly, I didn’t feel very successful right now.
“Your parents still live in San Diego, right? So you probably know all the best places to go.” He finally let me step around him, but I didn’t get far. “What would you say if I asked you to go with me?”
Was he serious? “I’d say no.” Did he think that I could just forget how I felt and we’d go back to sleeping together? Take a trip to San Diego so we could fuck on the beach maybe? I practically ran to his dresser and pulled out my cosmetic’s bag, a pair of underwear, a piece of paper that—
Oh my god, it was the list, the list of things I’d wanted to try, with him. I crumpled it in my hand and dropped it back in the drawer, on top of the black bag of toys. What was I supposed to do with those?
Fuck it. He could deal with them, because I sure as hell couldn’t.
“Lane? I know you’re still mad at me, and you have every right to be.” Even across the room he was still too close, his voice was too soft and sad, and I didn’t want to be here anymore because I was just getting more confused.
“I need to go.” Stuff started falling out of my hands. I bent down to pick it all up, hiding my face. “Just…um…put the table in the trash or maybe call Goodwill or something. I think they’ll—”
“I’m keeping the tabl
e. It was just an excuse to get you up here.”
“Why would you do that?” I looked at him and stood, ignoring everything but him. “Fuck you, Carson! I’m not… I can’t go backwards.” I couldn’t pretend I didn’t feel the way I felt or miss him or want him. It was becoming hard to breathe without crying. “I have to go.”
“You can’t. I know you’re mad at me, but give me a chance to talk to you.”
Wanna see a grown man jump out of the way so fast he hurts himself? Five simple words will do it. As long as they’re the right ones.
“I’m in love with you,” I shouted at him, hating every word because I knew they were poison to him. “I’m in love with you. I didn’t want it to happen, but it did. And not saying it out loud doesn’t make it any less true.” But it sure made it harder to look him in the eyes. “I can’t be your friend any more, Carson. It’s too hard, because I’m too screwed up.
“I’m not mad at you,” I continued. “I’ve never been mad at you, because you didn’t do anything wrong and you’ve never been anything but honest. I’m disappointed in myself because I couldn’t stop it from happening. I couldn’t turn it off or even slow it down once it started, and I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d leave. It was unfair and selfish. I knew it was the whole time, but I did it anyway because I wanted to be with you for as long as I could. So…I’m sorry.” I wiped my face with my sleeve. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to go. Because this hurts.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
“Actually, I think it does.” If there was a way around it, I’d sure like to know what it was. But I deserved this. I’d practically begged for it to happen.
“Tell me what you want, Lane.”
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“Yeah, you do. You’re just afraid to say it because you don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. My feelings. I can handle it, so just fucking say it.”