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Chapter Ten
It's been almost aweek since Westin left, and so far I have only received a few text messages checking in. But not one single phone call. I try not to think too much of it. Given the time zone difference, obviously our times conflict. He's half way through his workday by the time I get up, then by the time I get off work he's already sleeping. Regardless, I have still tried to call him every day.
I've called him in the morning. I've called him in the evening. I even stayed up until one in the morning last night, which is evening in Germany, and he still didn't answer. No matter how much I try to not let it bother me, the fact still remains that it does.A lot.
Knowing there is nothing I can do about it, I decide it's time to make things right with my life here. I have felt completely out of sorts lately, especially with everything that happened with Carson last Friday. I feel like I can't really get back to feeling somewhat normal, at least not without making peace with someone I know I hurt.
I knock lightly on Carson's front door, after being let into the building by one of his neighbors that was on her way out. Butterflies swim wildly in the pit of my stomach as I listen to footsteps padding their way in my direction. The moment the door swings open, guilt hits me like a ton of bricks.
Carson's lip has a nasty scab across the bottom, no doubt where Westin's fist collided with it. And he has a purple and yellow bruise along his right cheekbone, in the beginning stages of healing.
“Oh my god,” I say, my hand immediately covering my mouth. I shake my head slowly back and forth. “Carson, I... I'm so sorry,” I finally manage to say, cursing myself for waiting almost an entire week before saying those words.
“It's not a big deal.” He shrugs. “I'll heal.” He opens the door wider, gesturing for me to come inside.
I don't really know what to say or what to do, but my body acts on auto pilot as I step inside his apartment, not getting past the foyer before turning back to face him.
“I can't stay long.” I give him an apologetic look. “I just needed to see you. To make sure that you were okay.”
“Me?” he questions like he's confused.
“I just... Well, after everything you said a couple of weeks ago and then the way things ended Friday night. I just...”
“It takes more than a sucker punch to bring me down,” he interrupts me, his voice coming out cocky and borderline arrogant, like the reason he got punched is completely irrelevant.
“No, I know,” I try to explain myself, not wanting him to feel offended. Lord knows the last thing a man wants is to be made to feel like less of a man. “I'm just sorry it happened is all.” My words are weak and lack the conviction I wish they had. Why do I all of a sudden feel like I'm the one that punched him?
“That's what I get for kissing another man's girlfriend, I suppose.” He turns his back to me and walks into the kitchen on the left side of the apartment.
“He's not my boyfriend,” I say, immediately regretting it once I do. I mean, no, technically we haven't made a solid commitment to one another. But I think we have a pretty clear understanding of what we are and what we want. Or at least I thought we did. Now, I'm not sure of anything.
“Well he sure seemed to feel differently.” He grunts, pointing to his face as he pulls a bottle of water from the fridge. “You want?” he asks, holding up another bottle.
“I'm good, thanks.” I shake my head as he tosses the extra bottle back into the fridge and closes the door before joining me next to the counter.
“Scarlett, look. I've made my feelings pretty clear, but obviously you are... Well, things are complicated for you right now.”
“You have no idea,” I grumble, immediately realizing I said the words out loud. He continues on like he doesn't even notice.
“I don't want to be in the middle of whatever is going on between you and this guy. I won't be. So until you get this thing sorted out, I would appreciate it if you would leave me out of it.” His accent has taken on a thickness that I've never heard before.
“Carson, I...”
“Please, Scarlett. Just go.” The way my expression falls gives him pause. “I'm sorry if that hurts your feelings, but I'm not going to do this. I can't be your friend. At least not right now. And it's clear you are in no place to offer me anything else. So please. Don't make this more difficult than it already is.” He blows out a defeated breath.
“I'm sorry.” Turning, I quickly make my way to the front door and pull it open, not looking back until the door latches closed behind me. Leaning against the cool wood, I take a deep inhale and try to calm my shaking hands.
I don't know why, but I never expected it to go like that. I thought he would be mad, sure. A little hurt, maybe. But nothing could have prepared me for the coldness, the distance he put between us.
At the end of the day, while I may have chosen Westin over Carson, that in no way lessens my affection for Carson. It hurts me that I hurt him. More so, it terrifies me that I’m making the wrong choice.
As much as I want to be Carson's friend, he's right. It won't work. Friends worked for us when there was no boundary on our friendship. When we were free to hook up and act anyway we wanted toward each other. Now, it's different.
I exit Carson's building and snuggle into my jacket. The late October breeze coming in off the water is nearly bone chilling, and as much as I hate it, I know winter is knocking at our door.
Don't get me wrong, I love the snow. At least looking at it from the bakery window. That's about where my fondness for winter ends.
My cell phone springs to life in my pocket and it takes me a minute to get my semi-numb fingers to work. The moment my eyes seeWestinflashing across the screen, I practically drop my phone in excitement.
