I was relieved when we were back on the road on our way home. After a few miles, service became shoddy and she tossed her phone into her purse.
“It’s going to be a nice night to grill,” she said, her arm halfway out the window.
“Uh-huh.”
“I can’t wait until you taste the grilled pineapple. You’re going to love it, just add a little cinnamon or honey.”
“Yep.”
Fancy side eyed me. “Is everything okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
My voice was saying unbothered, but my body language was giving anything but, with my tight jaw and bobbing Adam’s apple. It was clear that everything was not okay. My knuckles gripped the steering wheel tightly as I just stared forward into the empty road. Fancy allowed me to stew, focusing on the vast nothingness that passed us by.
When I pulled up to the house and cut off the ignition. Fancy turned to me and said, “Did I do something wrong?”
“How could the perfect Fancy Palmer ever do anything wrong?” I climbed out of the truck and headed to the flatbed to collect the bags.
She followed me, her hands settling on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
There was a tightness in my chest as my body temperature increased. “Let’s just forget it.”
“No, your attitude is kind of hard to ignore.”
“My attitude?” I had to laugh to stop myself from going feral.
“Yeah, you’re being rude.”
“I’m not being rude. Rude, is complaining about the lack of Wi-Fi. Rude, is incessantly checking your phone for bars or signs of life. Rude, is steadily focusing on your phone while I was just hoping for a chill afternoon.”
“Excuse the fuck out of me for having a life that consist of more than just a cat and a few goats.”
Words like quaint and cozy were just code words for ugly and boring. One minute she’s gushing over how cute my house is and complimenting me on the beautiful views and then in the next breath my animals were unremarkable and my life meaningless. “Oh, so now you hate the farm.”
She lowered her chin to her chest while slowly shaking her head. “I never said that. Edison can we just take a beat?”
This was me hurt. I was never her first choice, not back then and not now. “Did your boyfriend call you? Did your message last night fire him up? Is he finally ready to fight for you?”
“Where is this coming from?”
My shoulders slumped and the tightness in my chest became almost unbearable. “I don’t like being used, Fancy.” Being upset came with unavoidable discomfort because it almost always meant my feelings had been hurt. Which is why I probably stuck to myself. Because letting people in also invited an uneasiness that was difficult to shake.
“Used? I’m not?—”
My voice was shaky, and my tone was harsher than I’d intended. “You couldn’t wait to get to town so you could checkyour messages to see if he’d called or texted you. I was right fucking there. You could’ve at least waited until I went into the hardware store.”
“Okay … okay I’ve hurt you.” She looked toward the sky in search of the right words. “Whiskey Wild is my baby and right now everything is sort of up in the air. The record label is asking about the tour. People are talking and there’s all these rumors and I just needed to get ahead of that. Was there a part of me hoping for a response from Chap? Yes. I want a heartfelt apology. Or some sign he was suffering with the fact he fucked up and lost me for good. He hurt me and I wanted to hurt him back. And I know that sounds crazy and I shouldn’t care, but the wounds are still fresh.”
“Listen to me. You know how much I care for you. So while this may be brief it’s not a game to me. My very real emotions are all tangled up in you like creeping vines. When you head back to LA, I want to be left with fond memories, not regret. If you can’t promise that, then I don’t want this.” I shoved the keys to the truck in her hand. “If you can’t offer me that, then take my truck and go home.” I grabbed the bags and headed for the house.
In the kitchen, I silently berated myself for losing my cool. We both knew eventually Fancy would return to her normal life. But if we were going to spend time together while she was here, that time had to be the best time of our lives to compensate for the heartbreak that would follow. I wasn’t asking her to give up her life in LA any more than she was asking me to leave Hume. But it couldn’t feel like I was a void filler. It had to be real.
I stood staring out the kitchen window, for what felt like an eternity, waiting for the whining of the motor, the rumble of the engine catching, and the wheels turning over the pavement as she drove away. I’d asked for too much. She was looking to have fun, take her mind off her life back home and I was over here, a bleeding wound begging her to consider me.
When the front door squeaked open and Fancy entered the kitchen, I was finally able to breathe unfettered. She dropped my keys on the counter and wrapped her arms around me from behind. “Edison?—”
“It’s okay.” I turned to face her. “We’re okay.”
