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She storms out, no doubt never to return to my sanctuary.
Chapter Four
Emma
As much as I hate it, Clifton is right. The second I resorted to name calling, I lost the argument.
Not that it was really about winning or losing more, just me standing up for someone that’s important to me. His dad had been gutted when he left after their conversation, and I wanted to protect him and try to help. Clifton can go to hell for all I care.
The man is arrogant and sufferable, and I can understand how he makes his father feel miserable.
The entire drive back to my place, I fume about him. While taking a shower, I pace back and forth having conversations with him out loud even though he's not in the room with me.
“He’s your dad, he’s a great guy, can’t you just give him a break?”
Of course, the white subway tiles don't respond.
“He’s the only living parent you have, and you just push him away.” After losing my family to my abusive ex-fiancé, I can't imagine not doing everything in my power to rebuild a bridge, no matter why it burned or who started the fire.
His dad tried. I’d sat there as Anton confided that no matter what he tried, his son just wouldn’t see reason. He is worried his son will never amount to anything. I know Clifton has so much potential, it’s infuriating that he either doesn't see it or doesn’t care. I’d give anything to have the leg up he has in life.
“You can lose your family in the blink of an eye; why take him for granted?” But my silent bathroom painted the deepest shade of blue-gray with white accents doesn’t seem to have any answers, and I question if I’m crazy for talking to myself. It’s a question to save for later. For now, I turn off the water and step out onto my gel bathmat while pulling my towel around myself.
At the mirror, I swipe away the steam and continue talking to myself. “You’re such a mess. You’re going on a date with Sterling. Pull it together, missy.”
As I say the words, the steam continues to re-obscure the mirror, and I sigh as the warm air feels like an arctic wind thanks to the heat of my shower. With quick hands, I dry off, muttering to myself about jerks thinking everything is an argument because they’re not mature enough to hold a conversation. When I’m dry, I spritz my perfume on my collarbone, then pull on a lavender flowy dress.
When I finally start blow-drying my hair, the sound drowns out my voice as I continue to be angry at Clifton. “He’s your dad! He’s such a nice guy and you treat him like crap. Some of us would love to have dads in our life.” But mine had walked out, taking my heart, happiness, and my worthless ex with him.
Maybe that is the key. “That’s it!” I say, lifting my head before continuing to dry my hair into large, rounded waves that feel halfway down my back. If I share my personal story with him, maybe he’ll see reason and understand why this is so important and that he’s making a terrible mistake.
The next time I see him, I'll go a little bit in depth with what I’ve been through and hope that helps change his mind.
But for right now, I need to calm down and forget about him. I need to focus on something positive, something like my date tonight.
We’ve been dating off and on for about three months now. He’d respected my boundaries and given me the time and space I needed and didn’t seem to have any red flags. And trust me, I’ve been on the lookout for anything even slightly pink-colored.
With another glance at myself in the mirror, I take a deep breath, hold it in for three seconds, then let it go along with all the tension in my shoulders and neck.
Walking out of the bathroom, I glance into my full-length mirror, loving the feminine and soft cut of my dress and the delicate lavender color. I always feel the need to appear so crisp at work I never get to enjoy just being pretty.
Taking the skirt in my hands, I give a little spin, feeling silly as I do, but the long skirt flares out just a little bit, and my heart flutters in my chest. For a moment, I’m happy and at peace with this world of mine. With gentle hands, I fix a stray strand of hair and smile at myself. I could add jewelry, but I like this reasonably quiet, understated look.
I’m sure Sterling will like it, too. Not that he’s ever made comments about my body or style, I just figure if I look good, he might agree. Trying to stop the trembling in my hands, I grab my keys, dump them in my purse with my phone in a separate compartment to keep it safe, and make my way to my door.
The lock engages behind me, and I face the world with another deep breath. It’s dark, but not super late, thankfully. The air is warm and dry, very indicative of summer and the sounds of distant horns honking, conversations, and vehicles driving leave me hugging myself.
We’d agreed to meet at a classy wine and coffee bar, and I just walk, loving how the wind plays with my skirt and how good I feel just experiencing the world without thinking about anything - or anyone - stressful. I don’t get enough down time without thinking about work, so I plan to squeeze every last drop of joy out of these moments.
When I finally make my way to the door of the bar, I show the guy my ID and he waves me in. The smell of coffee, expensive cologne, and alcohol stings my nose, and a rush of panic fills me until I spot Sterling at a tall table.
Making my way to him with a smile, I watch him give me a head-to-toe look over with a playful expression as he steps down from his seat and pulls me into a warm hug. “That color is beautiful on you,” he says.
“Thanks,” I say, feeling my cheeks warm.
“I ordered a glass of your favorite red,” he says as we both get into our chairs. He leans forward and pats my hand. The touch isn’t unwelcome, and I stare at our hands, wondering if I’m crazy. I just don’t feel a spark, a connection. He’s someone that I’d recommend all my friends date, but I just don’t know that I’ll ever feel more for him.
But that’s what dating is for, to get to know one another. Maybe we’ll cultivate a spark through conversation and time spent together. It’s worth a shot anyway.
