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He sighs at my bite. “We can turn the car around and go back home. You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do.”
The information in the file didn’t satisfy my quench for answers. My father’s name is Carlos Diaz. His Mexican heritage explains the caramel tones of my skin. He turned fifty this year. His birthday was the seventh of February. He’s divorced twice and has a son he never sees. He works as a plumber and barely has enough money to get him by. The money he does have goes on liquor at a local bar.
When I first read over his file, I thought that was enough, but I wondered what his voice sounded like. Does he have a welcoming face, or does my resting bitch face come from him? What is his liquor of choice? Was it this lifestyle that cost him his marriage and child? Does he like talking to strangers, or does he drink in the corner alone?
I told myself it didn’t matter, but my mum’s diagnosis has deepened my desire to belong somewhere. I might lose the one-half of me I know. Does it make me a terrible person for wanting to at least meet the other half?
The thoughts kept me awake until I called Huxley two nights ago and told him I wanted a road trip to Cardiff. He was surprised but agreed. There was no need to come up with a lie for Xavier because he’s avoided me like the plague since the night we eviscerated the moral line between us.
Almost as if he can read my mind, Huxley brings up the event. “Are we okay? You’ve been off with me since the charity event.”
I shouldn’t feel guilty towards Huxley because he made it clear where we stand. Regardless, it fills me, and I cover it by getting defensive. “You think I’m crying because you basically said you only see me as a fuck?”
“That isn’t what I said,” he grits out.
I can’t help but snort in derision. “Please enlighten me with what you said, Mr. I-Don’t-Have-Time-For-More. At least have the balls to come out and say it directly. I’m sick and tired of you saying something and then doing the opposite. You want me, and then you don’t. You fuck me, then avoid me.”
Those words aren’t reserved for him but are blowing up inside me. After all Xavier said about wanting more, he screwed me and disappeared. He won’t look at me when we’re in the same room. I don’t exist to him anymore. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. I’m even more disappointed in myself for believing him.
“Don’t give me that bullshit!Youwere the one that said it first.”
I stare at Huxley in confusion. “When did I say that?”
His eyes meet mine, and I’m thrown off by the anger in them. “At that stupid fucking Christmas lunch, right before you were practically begging that loser to fuck you. You said we would never get to the family meeting stage.”
“Yousaid that!“ I shout at him. “Youwere the one that almost jumped out the window when Ijokedabout meeting your sister.”
“No, Savannah! I didn’t!” He takes two breaths to calm himself down, but it doesn’t work because his knuckles are white from gripping his steering wheel too tight. When he speaks, his voice is slightly lower. “I said we weren’t at that stageyet. You then said you don’t plan oneverbeing there. So, don’t sit in my fucking car and say I’m using you when you fucked me off first.”
Memories of Huxley snapping at me come rushing back. I’d wondered what switched his mood. I didn’t realise I hurt hisfeelings.
“It’s not your car anymore,” I mumble. “I won that bet, and I’m still waiting for my name on the car.”
“You’ll get it.” His eyebrows remain pulled together with tension. His jaw clenches, but his eyes don’t waver from the road ahead. “Forget about this for today. You have bigger fish to fry.”
A part of me that is grateful I can avoid the conversation because I’m good at running. But the other part wants him to tell me how he really feels. Xavier was a mistake, but Huxley could be a reality.
The bar is dark and crowded. Every table is surrounded by people laughing and talking over drinks. A group of drunk men sling curses at each other over a game of darts. I look around, hoping to recognise a face from the photos.
“Your face is a dead giveaway. Relax,” Huxley mutters. He lowers his baseball cap to cover more of his face.
I can’t stop darting my gaze around the bar, scanning every face.Are these people his friends?Huxley takes my hand in his and pulls us to the two empty seats at the bar.
The bartender walks over with a big grin as she eyes my company. “Welcome to the Lion’s Inn. I’m Katie. What can I get for you, handsome?”
Huxley doesn’t look at her but keeps his head down and peers at me. “Order what you want. I’m driving back.”
“Just a coke, please.”
As she walks away, Huxley gives me a pointed look. “You look like you’re going to shit yourself. You need a drink to calm yourself.”
I shoot him a blank stare, waiting for common sense to appear. When it doesn’t, I place my hand on my stomach. “Are you forgetting something?”
He grimaces. “Let me fuck the stress out of you. Work every one of your limbs until they’re forced to relax.”
Knowing he would follow through with that, I roll my eyes. “No.” I look around again. “Are you sure he comes here?”
