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“Did he touch you?”
“I don’t have to answer that . . .”
“DID HE TOUCH YOU?” Haden yells, slamming his fist against the architrave.
I swiftly turn around. “Yes. Yes he did. Get off your jealousy horse because I don’t belong to you! You’re full of shit, Haden. You don’t care about me or else you wouldn’t be marrying Eloise!”
“And everything I said meant nothing to you? I told you no one was to touch you but me.” He follows with a sinister laugh, shaking his head as he continues to block the exit. His body is exposed and it becomes an unnecessary distraction.
Kitty is not helping me out, gawking at his perfectly-toned physique with a jumbo-sized popcorn in hand.
From the corner of my eye I can see his knuckles are stark white from clenching his fist so tight. I have never seen him this enraged, and it scares me a little. But then I remember my conversation with Eloise yesterday and I quickly change back to infuriated and bitter Presley.
“See Malone, all along this is what I was afraid of. You’re running back to the love of your life . . .”
“I didn’t run, Haden. I was standing still. Waiting for you. You are the one that broke me!”
“You want to know why I proposed to Eloise?”
“Enlighten me, Haden.” I stand here, arms crossed, waiting for his pathetic excuse.
“Because I never felt good enough for you! I was never the man you wanted in your life. Eloise wanted me . . . but to you, I was nothing, and you went out of your way to constantly remind me of that. So, I’ll tell you what. You want to move to California with Jason? Then fucking do it! We were never going to work anyway.”
He moves away from the closet and back into the other room, grabbing his shirt. There are no slamming doors. No more sounds.
He is gone.
And I pushed him.
Or, maybe, he pushed himself.
It doesn’t matter because his words cut deep, and just like he said, we are never going to work anyway.
I grab my cell and make the call.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“What’s wrong? Isn’t it like midnight there?”
“Yes. I’ve decided to move to California. Is it still okay if I stay with you guys?”
“Of course,” Gemma says in a worried tone. “Pres, what happened? You sound . . . weird.”
She’s my sister. She knows me well. Nothing ever gets past Gemma. She’s seen me at my worst. I begin to sob into the phone, making no sense with my words.
“I can’t be around him anymore, Gem. It’s just too hard. I love him.”
“I know,” she soothes. “But he is Masen’s dad. He’s always going to be around. And you’re just figuring out now that you love him?”
“No, Gemma. I knew all along. I just kept denying the truth. He can still see Masen. I know a lot of parents that meet at a shopping center and someone else does the handover.”
“Is that what you really want?”
I know I’m not thinking straight. I’m hurt. And when you’re hurt, rational decisions are hard to make. Instead, you follow the broken path, praying that it will lead to some magical rainbow with unicorns galloping around it and baskets of cupcakes and chocolate.
“Yes. I’ll book the flights.”
My mind is made up. This time next week, I will be in California.
