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I want to kill Leo right now for basically walking me into this nightmare. I’m shifting on my feet, feeling like a fool and dressed like I’m about to play hopscotch with Libs, while surrounded by two girls who are dressed for sex—I mean success—and basically look like they have their shit together.
I want out of here. I look to the spot on the counter where I usually drop my car keys and see that they’re gone.I’m going to kill him.
It’s like a four-way stare down for what feels like an eternity until Leo comes back. I shoot him a look that’s meant to be interpreted as:I’d like to claw your eyes out right now.
“She finally went down?”
He answers Max, “Yeah, she’s good,” while his eyes stay fixed on me. And he has the nerve to look as pissed off as I do.
That’s right, I forgot. I ruined his date, didn’t I? Skylar Perillo, cockblocker extraordinaire. That’s me.
My attention turns to Nadia when she pipes up and says, “They say parenting is the hardest job in the world.”
To which Lexi lends her expert commentary, “But it’s the most rewarding, too.”
All eyes are on me now.
Jeez, did I just snort or something? Laugh out loud at that ridiculous scripted nonsense? I’m thinking maybe I did. Oops.
“I’m heading out.” I hold out my palm because I’m pretty sure Leo took my keys off the counter and pocketed them so I wouldn’t run. “I can handle that situation on my own. Enjoy your night.”
I’d rather sleep outdoors naked in February than subject myself to one more second of this.
He shakes his head and grabs my wrist. “You’re not going anywhere.” Looking to Max he says, “Thanks for stopping in but I need to call it a night. Want me to call a car service for you guys?”
“No need. Nadia’s taking one for the team tonight.”
She raises her glass. “I switched to water a while ago.”
I stand there like an unwanted stepchild as the small talk goes on, complete with Max suggesting the four of them grab dinner one night next week.
Leo is corralling them out the door when Lexi turns to him and says, “Thanks for having me.” She leans in and kisses his cheek, and while it doesn’t look like he was expecting it, I notice he doesn’t pull away either. She glances at me before smiling at Leo. “Next time I’m hoping we’ll have more time to talk.”
He doesn’t respond directly, just says, “Have a good night,” as he’s closing the door.
Leo turns and leans back against the door. He’s pinching the bridge of his nose, asking God for patience or looking for a Hail Mary, for the best way to pave over this irreparable stretch of road.
I don’t want thesorrythat’s coming, the one that’s sitting on the tip of his tongue right now. I don’t want his cheap excuses.
Why do I even want him?That’s what I’m asking myself as I grab a beer from the refrigerator.Really, why would I want a guy like Leo?I open the same drawer Lexi did a few minutes ago and fish out the bottle opener.Yeah, she even knows where he keeps the kitchen utensils.
I sit down, take a long pull from the bottle and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I don’t care about table manners right now. I don’t care what I look like or what he thinks of me. In fact, I hope my life choices, my background and I everything I am disgust and repel him.
He goes to speak but I stop him. “Go to bed, Leo.” A full minute passes with him standing his ground, so I change tack and ask him nicely, because seriously, I’m about ten seconds away from crying and beating on his chest the same way Olivia was before. “Please, I can’t do this right now.” My words come out wobbly and choked. I turn and give him my back knowing the tears are coming with or without my permission. I take another sip of my beer, then another.
I rest my head on the kitchen table to hide my face. I hear him fill a glass from the tap and then put it on the table next to me. He’s close, I can sense it, and just the proximity of him hurts.
When he moves closer, rests his hand on my shoulder and squeezes, I can’t help but break down. And I know without looking in the mirror that it’s an ugly cry. One where your body shakes, your nose runs and your eyes swell. He keeps rubbing his hand over my shoulders and my back. I want him to stop but I don’t want him to.
A good five minutes must pass before I stop crying, before I notice the dishtowel he laid on the table and use it to wipe my face. I think he’s gone, that he did what I asked and left me, but then I see him in the living room making up the couch with a sheet and a blanket.
“I can’t stay here.”
Without looking my way, he answers back, “Yeah…You can.”
I watch him walk back upstairs. I always watch, always take note of the way his large frame fills that narrow space. But tonight his shoulders are slumped in defeat.
He pauses on the stairs but doesn’t turn around when he says, “Get a good night’s sleep, Sky, and please don’t run off. We’ll talk in the morning.”
