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“I’m trying to process it all. And come up with a plan. Jen’s taking over my lease since she hasn’t fully moved out yet. It makes it easier.”
So, this is happening sooner than later. “And when do you leave?”Please don’t be soon.
“A week from today. They’re putting me up in temporary housing for a couple of weeks while I look for something. But even with a cost-of-living allowance, from here to NYC, I know I’ll live in a closet. New York has always been my goal though.”
This much I know. On the last night, we talked for hours, and he shared one thing with me that stuck. He’d planned on taking his name out of consideration. He didn’t want to leave the brunt of the farm to his mom and brother, but in Martina Farmer fashion, she’d put the fear of God in him, telling Clark it was time to live for himself. After all, his father would want that.
“Yeah, well congratulations.” I look at my watch, and then back at his mess. “How much longer will you be here tonight?”
He lets out a long breath of air, pulling his hair back into a ponytail. “A while. I have three cases to get ready to hand over to Rex until they find him a new partner.”
Don’t do it,I think to myself. But I can’t help it. “Want to come over afterward?” I did it and with the way his face changes expressions, one I can read and immediately know I’m universally fucked. I should never have asked.
“I can’t. It’s just…”
“You have too much work.”
He rolls his chair back over to his desk, but doesn’t meet my gaze.
“I could say that, Xan. And yeah, I have a couple late nights, but this thing between you and me, it was…”
I empty the space between us and slam my hands down on his desk. This visibly startles him. “Don’t you fucking say it was a mistake because you and me together, it was more than sex, and you know it.”
“Okay. But, so what if it was? I’m leaving and honestly, Xan, I’m not sure there is a place in my life for someone who has hated me as long as you have.”
I’ve had enough of his excuses and turn to leave but end up doing a three-sixty, grabbing a piece of paper from his desk and a pen. Scribbling on it, I toss it at him. “You know, there’s a thin line between love and hate, Farmer. And you felt it, too. Sure, you’re leaving but we have a week. So, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
I turn again, this time achieving the one-eighty I’d planned a minute ago. I slam the door behind me, and it’s childish, I know, but fuck, this hurts. Hurts so fucking bad.
21
CLARK
“How does it feel?” Jen asks as she and Rex toast me on my last night in Minneapolis. “This has been all you’ve wanted. And now it’s coming true.”
“Ah, what do you care? You’re just happy to have the place to yourself.” We both loved our apartment, but it was in my name until just yesterday.
“Need a place to crash tonight?” she asks.
I shake my head because I’m leaving early on the first flight to New York. “Nah, I have a place by the airport.” My flight is at five a.m., with orientation beginning at ten. I wanted to have one last Sunday dinner with Ma and JJ, giving me more than enough time to have a beer with my friends.
“Going to miss you, Clark,” Rex cheers, and as a text comes in, he tosses down a couple twenties. “Drinks are on me.”
“Where are you off to, asshole? Surely you got one more drink in you,” I tease. He’s in a hurry and I’ve yet to ask him what he’s all secretive about.
“Nah, have plans. Gotta run.” I stand as he brings me in for a bro hug. “I’ll see you in a couple weeks and we’ll make a mark in the Big Apple, got it?”
“Sure thing, man,” I answer as Jen stands.
“Gotta run, too. Big day tomorrow.” Every Monday in Jen’s book is a big day. “Come here, you big lug. I’m going to miss you so much.” She hugs me, holding onto my body just a little bit longer.
I walk Jen to her car, and hug her again, one last time. I wish Jen was the one but she’s not, and we’ve both known for some time we weren’t meant for each other. The passion had never been there, not like it had been with… I realize I want to see him one last time, and before I can talk myself out of it, I pull out his address he’d scribbled down for me, and put it in the rental’s GPS.
* * *
“Hold on,asshole, and you’re not getting a tip. You’re an hour late.” This is the voice of Xander’s and I’ve been on the other end of his fury a time or two. He pulls the door back and I’m face-to-face with him in pajamas. Of course, the snob wears actual pjs to bed.
“What sort of tip am I not getting?”
