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“We grew up together. I wasn’t oblivious to you.”
She almost snorted. Everyone had been oblivious to her. She’d been fifty pounds heavier, worn her glasses like a shield, and had serious acne. After leaving Sweetheart, she’d attended dance and aerobic classes while she was in school, dropped some weight, got contact lenses, and started a serious face cleansing regiment. And she’d learned to love her body in the process.
When she’d come home, she was completely different than the shy bookworm she’d been in school and people had finally started noticing her. Before that, she’d been invisible.
“Please. It wasn’t like we traveled in the same circles.”
“Neither did you and Asher.”
Her jaw tightened. She didn’t want to talk about Asher with Dustin, but he didn’t take her silent hint.
“How long have you two been together?”
“Three years.”
“Long time. You two talk about getting married?”
A sour taste rose in the back of her throat. Once upon a time, she’d thought she’d marry Asher. Their first year together had been great, for the most part. The more she thought back on it, she had probably been so surprised that the guy she’d had a major crush on in high school, who she’d thought was totally out of her league, had asked her out, and she’d ignored some obvious issues.
By the time they’d moved in together a year later, she’d been shocked the first time he’d lost his temper and shoved her into a wall. She’d stared at him in horror for several moments before she’d walked into the bedroom and started packing. He’d come in, begging her forgiveness, and trying to hold her. He’d cried and she’d told herself that it was a mistake.
And she’d warned him that it was the only chance he’d have.
Then her dad had died suddenly and she’d been lost. It had been the two of them against the world; with him gone, there was no one who loved her, except Asher. The money in her dad’s bank account went toward funeral costs and the medical bills insurance wouldn’t cover. When she hadn’t been able to cover everything, Asher had paid the remaining bills, and told her she didn’t have to pay him back. She’d gotten the job at Something Borrowed so she could save up and eventually finish culinary school.
But without her dad, she’d relied on Asher more, and although it had started small, he’d slowly started tearing her down. Telling her she had stupid taste in movies. That she should stop baking so much because she was just going to get fat again. Accusing her of working at Something Borrowed so she could meet other guys. He’d become controlling, condescending, and she’d just let it go on. Somewhere along the way, she’d stopped fighting back.
It was only now that she’d realized how far she’d let things go. And that she needed to find a way out.
“No, we don’t talk about getting married.”
He pulled in front of the house she shared with Asher, and when he got out with her, she shook her head. “You should wait here.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “I can’t use your bathroom?”
“Of course, you can. Sorry.” God, she was acting like an idiot. There was nothing wrong with having her coworker use the bathroom while she changed. She wasn’t doing anything wrong.
They walked up the path to the porch, the clip of his fancy shoes on the cement making her heart jump with every tap.
She unlocked the front door and she waved him toward the hallway. “Bathroom is that way. I won’t be a minute.”
He disappeared and Rylie went past the laundry room to the master bedroom.
She pulled out a pair of slacks, an off-the-shoulder floral blouse, and her black Skechers from the closet. The slacks would be scorching in the 103 degree heat, but they would cover the shiny black sneakers. It was disgusting how hot Nor Cal was in late September.
She was just pulling her blouse on when she heard the unmistakable rumble of Asher’s truck.
Oh, no.
* * * *
Dustin wandered around the living room of Rylie’s place, surprised at how bare it seemed. One picture of Rylie with her father sat on a bookshelf filled with paperback books. Another of Marley, Rylie, and Kelly dressed to the nines and smiling was set on the second shelf down along with a few of those silly Funko Pop! figures.
The walls of the house held pictures of Asher catching a fish when he was a kid. A framed article about him playing football. One after another of the man’s achievements were hung up. The leather chair and couch, big screen TV, and tacky neon It’s Beer O’Clock sign screamed bachelor pad.
Besides that one bookshelf, Dustin wouldn’t even have guessed that Rylie lived here. There was no color, no flair that said, “Rylie.” Meanwhile, her desk at work held a hot pink cat-shaped cup with funny pens in it and more of those Funko Pop! figures.
Something was definitely off. The way that Rylie had reacted to him suggesting they go to her house for shoes and wanting to use the bathroom… She’d seemed almost afraid.
