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“Yeah, well, feelings are like assholes,” I said. “Everyone has one.” I stepped closer to the ledge. “And what was that shit in there? You invited me here to try to ruin things with X? You know we’re just getting started.”
“Starting what?”
“Starting us. Starting something. Starting what you have,” I said.
“Well, don’t rush. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
I looked at Ian and we were talking in silence. He meant to tell me something about Scarlet that he couldn’t share because we were still on two sides of a battlefield. Maybe it was about the secrets in the kitchen. Maybe it was about the geometrically shaped food.
Whispers from beneath the balcony injected noise into the exchange.
“I’m sorry. I just got away so I could call you back,” we heard. “I’ll be home real soon to check on you.”
We knew the voice. It was just low enough to be a secret, but still familiar enough that we didn’t need to rush to the balcony’s edge to see who it was. The door that led to the parking lot where I’d parked was on the first floor right beneath Ian’s balcony.
“I’m just in Atlanta visiting my boy from college. My old roommate. Yeah, the one who got married,” the whispering beneath us continued. I closed my eyes and pretended I couldn’t hear this. I didn’t want to hear this. Because hearing meant knowing and I couldn’t unknow this once I’d heard it. The talking stopped and I looked at Ian before we both looked out over the parking lot to see Xavier walking toward my car with his phone in his hand.
I balled up my fists and wanted to swing at the wind. To throw my shoes into the night and hit everyone in the head. Every man I’d ever loved. Or pretended to love. Or just thought I’d loved. But my shoes were $800 and I’d only worn them once so I kept them on. I pushed Ian out of my way and went through the doors in a hurry to get my purse and get out of there.
“Wait, Rach!” Ian tried to grab my arm.
“Night, Scarlet. Thanks for everything,” I said sharply to Scarlet, who was still picking up in the dinning room. I grabbed my purse from the couch and raced out the door with Ian behind me.
“Rach, wait!” He grabbed my arm just before I made it onto the first landing in the stairwell.
“What? You happy now?” I asked.
“No, I’m not happy at all.”
“What? Wasn’t that the point of everything you did in there?”
“I don’t know what’s going on with me, but seeing you here tonight—with him—I can’t just let you be with him.” Ian was rubbing his forehead like his head was about to explode. “I can’t be happy without you. But I can’t be with you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Sometimes I don’t think I made the right decision, Rachel,” Ian said quietly.
“About what?”
“That night at the pier in New Orleans. What you said to me,” Ian said. “Sometimes I don’t think I made the right decision—marrying Scarlet. Maybe my mother was right. Maybe I was supposed to be with—”
“Don’t! Don’t you dare do that!” I cut Ian off. It was just too much. I felt like everyone was playing with my mind. With my heart. “Don’t put that on me! You save that shit and you wrap it up and you throw it someplace far away because you don’t ever need to bring it up again. You married Scarlet and that’s it.”
“But I—”
“And you know what? I’m not even surprised that you’re so petty about this. Claiming you want to be with me now that you see me with someone else? That’s so classic, Ian! All about you. Can’t get from inside that head of yours for five minutes to see that it’s my time. You have to take the spotlight. Self-absorbed bastard.” I shook away from him. “Enjoy your cake.”
I didn’t say anything in the car ride home. I was too afraid I’d explode and every tear I hadn’t ever cried would come rushing out of me and wash Xavier clear out of Georgia and straight into the Atlantic Ocean. There was no need to tell him what I’d heard from the balcony. We both knew what the call was at the table. But the way things are, the way we all have to behave so pleasantly without accusing one another of anything that might make the other person accuse you of being suspicious or jealous, trying to ratchet up some fake anger to send a red herring up into the sky—I just couldn’t do it. Not anymore. If I opened my mouth, it would be with the truth. And we both knew the truth, so what was the sense in saying anything? Saying something would mean I wanted an explanation. Maybe an apology. I was sick of explanations. I was sick of apologies. I was so very sick of believing I’d ever meet anyone who didn’t offer me a combination of the two the moment I opened up my whole heart. I just wanted to go to bed.
I threw one pillow at Xavier and slammed my bedroom door.
He knocked before I could get to the bed.
“I’m going to bed,” I said.
“Just let me explain.”
I went and sat on the edge of the bed. I hadn’t turned on the light, so the room was still dark.
