That hangover and those blisters lasted weeks, and I never wanted to wear heels again. Captain Morgan and I had never disagreed more, but nothing came close to how much life, in general, sucked without Cord.
Yeah, you heard me. It just plain old fucking sucked.
Every day.
Every meal.
Every time I turned on the television.
Every shower.
Every time my phone chimed.
Every time I closed my eyes, and every single time I woke up alone after dreaming I was with him.
It all fucking sucked. And suckage like that was crippling.
I was still upset, but there was also this tremendous amount of guilt that just wouldn’t go away. It even overshadowed the anger I felt, so much that I didn’t know what I was mad about anymore. Guilt like I’d made the most fucked up of all the fuck ups in fuck up history.
At first, I chalked it up to throwing those girls in his face. I wasn’t sure about the hotel girl, but I was positive that Bridget chick posed no real threat to me, and I shouldn’t have said what I had. I’d never so much as noticed him look at another woman in all the times we were out together. In fact, he had a way of giving me so much of his attention, there were times it made me uncomfortable because I wasn’t used to it.
If he wasn’t just playing me, if he wasn’t all those things I’d said, why hadn’t he called that week?
But I’d been a bitch and didn’t call him either. I had guilt for that too.
It was a long ten days until Becca got home, but even when she got back she was in the honeymoon phase, and I didn’t feel like bringing her down. I was down enough for everyone. They called to check in, but I kept to myself.
My vacation time was coming up, and I’d tossed around the idea of going to Colby, but decided, after everything, a staycation sounded so much better.
I just had to make it through one last Friday, and then I’d be free. That day, filing was my great distraction, and doing it nearly put me in a trance until the knock at my door.
“Dana?” Coach Smith announced from my doorway. “You got a minute?”
I had all the stupid fucking minutes.
Which one do you want?
He looked nice, completely non-threatening. Safe. But being in a room with him felt like nothing. Even more nothing than I’d been used to before.
My bones could feel when Cord entered the room. My ears favored his warm, masculine timbre. The scent of him was as intoxicating as his taste.
Coach Smith did nothing for my heart, and my head was so fucking dumb that I wasn’t listening to her anymore anyway.
There I was with nothing and numb to the perfectly okay coach.
“Sure. I’m just getting some filing done before the weekend. What can I do for you?”
A few steps across the Berber carpet and he was taking a seat in the chair across from my desk. “Well, I’m just going to come out with it. I’ve asked you out a couple of times, but we never seem to make any plans. And if you’re not seeing someone, I’d like to know, specifically, what night I can take you out. If you’d like to go.”
Something struck me as I slipped the last sheet of paper into its appropriate M-marked manila folder. I’d always thought of Ryan Smith as a safe guy, yet there he was, laying it all out there. He was braver than I gave him credit for because I’d never even been daring enough to admit that kind of shit to myself—let alone ever say it to someone else.
The least I could do was respect his honesty and return it. “Ryan, I’m not good at any of this, and you’re actually really dodging a bullet with me. The honest-to-God truth is: I never went out with you because I was just so fucked up about stuff. About me. About men. About life. It’s all so stupid.”
“And now?”
“And now I’m just figuring all of that out. I was seeing someone recently, and I’m not over it yet. Not even close.” I sat back in my chair and pushed against my desk. “Woo.” I had to catch my breath. It was so much truth that I almost puked on what was left of my paperwork.
Then I laughed at how pitiful I was, and I laughed hard.
“Are you okay?” he asked me, the lunatic across from him.
“Not really.” Humility had me looking him in the face when I said it. “Basically, I’m flattered that you’re interested in taking me out, but I’m sorry I’m too much of a mess.” I caught myself there. I didn’t want it to sound like a maybe. “And when I get things figured out, I don’t think it’s going to change anything for you and me.”
I tipped my chin down and braced for his reply, not knowing what to expect.
He nodded, and then silently mouthed okay. “That’s cool. Actually, I appreciate you just saying it. I don’t want to bug you if you’re not interested.”
I guess it was like how Cord said. Just tell them the truth and move on.
Still, even though everything with Cord and I had gone south, I wasn’t ready to move on yet. Not by a long-shot. As pathetic and self-deprecating as it was, I had some wallowing in my own misery to do because I deserved it.
So, that’s exactly what I did.
My first totally free Friday, and the inaugural night of my vacation, was dedicated to bawling like a teenager in the bathtub, listening to sappy-ass eighties and nineties ballads.
A fine moment in my life, I assure you.
Naked. Refilling the hot water when it turned cold. Spilling a glass of white wine on my bathroom rug, then committing to full-on from-the-bottle-drinking when I couldn’t reach the runaway glass to refill it.
I also couldn’t reach my phone, which was acting as the designated deejay. It was also trying to kill me. The murder weapon? Rock icon Jon Bon fucking Jovi.
The song lyrics held new meaning. The cheesy motherfucker swore he’d be there for her, as well as a plethora of other promises. And, goddamned it, I wanted to believe him.
Even though I finally got out of the water, pruney feet and fingers in tow, it took me a day to dry up the emotions I nearly drowned in.
Jodi worked that Saturday, so I managed to drag my ass out of the house—in the name of coffee.
She was so happy to see me.
“You look like how I felt after childbirth. Are you sick? Stay away.”
I hadn’t worked out in days, although I had huge ambitions to renovate my treadmill, or at least clean it off. My hair was in a sloppy pony-bun thing. I was clean, but let’s be honest, I hadn’t washed much. I’d fallen into the habit of just getting in the tub because it was warm and my skin ached from missing his touch.
I looked like the saddest chapter of a goddamned Jane Austin book.
Oh, the longing.
Oh, the missing him.
Oh, the fuck of it all. Woe was me.
I pulled my ponywad tighter as I dodged an empty chair on the way to the counter.
“Can I just get a damn drink?” I pleaded.
“Did you just go to the gym or something?”
I looked down at myself. Frayed, loose fitting jean shorts. Comfy, off the shoulder t-shirt. Whoop, no bra. Fuck. One brown flip flop, one black. Chipped, hot pink toenail polish, which was altogether missing from three whole toes. Also missing was the shit I had to give.
“I’m on vacation,” I explained.
She stared at me having never seen me in that condition, but what did I have to hide? In fact, I gave the bitch a twirl. Then, I took off my sunglasses and put my regular ones on so I could read the fucking menu board.
She asked, “You have prescription sunglasses?”
“Nope,” I deadpanned. “I couldn’t see shit, but I walked here. So whatever. And since you’re probably wondering, this stain right here is chocolate syrup which I drank from the bottle.”
Her head fell forward.
Then I added, “Last night.”
She rolled her eyes and mumbled, “Gross. You really need coffee.”
With my hands in front of myself, I wiggled my fingers like tada. “That’s what I’m saying. Now let me figure out what I want.”
“Don’t be stupid. You get black French roast with cinnamon. Every time.”
“Wrong. I hate cinnamon. And I’m not even sure I want a coffee anymore. Just give me some tea shit.”
Trevor came up from the back with sleeves of cups and lids to restock the counter.
His face was the second clue of the day that I should have just stayed home and died.
It was after ten, but I’d just woken up.
To hell with it.
After all, I was the devil, fresh from my slumber.
Great, another thing he was right about. I was a morning bitch.
Everything was so melodramatic.
Trevor recovered quickly and contained his laugh by rocking his jaw to the side and biting his lip.
“Here you go. One large tea shit,” my step-sister sang as she passed me the cup with a string hanging over the side of it. “I’m going to take my break, Trevor.”
I passed her a five and left before I could even think about the fucking tip.
But—it should be noted—I hated tips, too.
What didn’t I hate? Including myself. And Cord—I hated him the most, but not really.
Ugh.
I was too lazy to walk to the private booth on the side where we usually went, and pretty much fell into a chair at the closest table.
“What in the hell is the matter with you?” Jodi twisted off the lid to some green sludge looking shake and then whooshed her finger around like a fairy’s wand while holding the cap. “I don’t know this Dana.”
I opened her muffin, which I decided we were sharing, and popped a piece into my mouth.
Yuck, blueberry. I scanned for memories of him and blueberry, but came up empty.
Blueberry, my favorite, starting right now.
“It’s the New Dana. The smarter Dana. The Dana who doesn’t give a damn. Vacation Dana.”
“Vacation Dana looks bad. When was the last time you cleaned your glasses?”
She yanked them off my head.
“I don’t fucking know.”
Using the hem of her apron, she began wiping them with the clean side. “They have splatters on them. What are the splatters? Dude, you’re a wreck. You better start spilling your guts and tell me what the hell is going on—before I call your dad.”
I flinched. “You wouldn’t.”
She nodded, totally confident. “Do not force my hand.”
I caught Trevor eavesdropping, but he looked away when I snidely asked him, “What?”
Why did I come here?
I hadn’t been thinking. That was why.
He had the good sense to keep himself busy after being busted, and since there wasn’t anyone else in there besides me, he continued making trips to the back room for supplies.
“Jodi, if I told you, you’d just tell me how dumb I am, and I already know that. So, let’s just skip to the part where you tell me this will pass in a few days, and I’ll get over it.”
I pinched off another piece of her crappy muffin, and she shoved the whole thing across the table to me.
“No. It’s not that easy. I never get to tell you that you’re the dumb one. So I demand to know why.”
The muffin was growing on me—and in danger of me really hating it—but to gain some time to gather my thoughts, I shoved the rest of it in my mouth, whole.
“Real mature.”
“I …” A piece flew out of my mouth and landed on the table. We both saw it.
Swiftly, she gave me a yielding hand. “First, swallow.”
Ugh.
I finished chewing, my head bobbed with each dry bite. After a sip of the tea shit, which was about three degrees cooler than the sun, I began again.
“I screwed up.”
“On your vacation?”
“No, before that.”
She was impatient with me, gesturing get-on-with-it with both hands. It was hostile.
“Stop yelling at me.”
“Dana, I only have thirty minutes. Hurry up.”
“Okay. I came into the coffee shop the day you stayed home with Max a few months ago. Remember? Then Becca and I Skyped you?”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
“You know how I am and the guys I used to date. Well, whatever it is you call whatever the hell it was that I was doing. We’ll call it dating.”
She put my glasses back on my face. “You were dating them.” I could almost feel her support. Almost.
“I met Cord here. He was hot. Jodi, he’s so hot.”
She gave me a sympathetic half-grimace, half-smile. “No shit. This isn’t news. Cord has always been hot.”
“But I’d never met him. Until that day, and it just happened to be right when I’d sworn off all the too-hot guys.” Speaking of—the tea shit was too hot, but the heat felt good on my hands, so I held it. “I couldn’t stop thinking about him—even though I knew better. Even after you guys gave me shit. Then I looked him up on Facebook. Then I went to his gym. Do you see a pattern yet?”
“You stalked him.”
“No. Not stalked.” I scratched my head, debating with myself, but I’d learned my lesson from not telling the whole truth. “Okay, Maybe I was stalking him a little.”
“So, then what?”
I looked behind me to get a visual on Trevor. He wasn’t around.
“Out of the blue, he messaged me first. Then we saw each other at the gym a few times, but nothing really happened.” I pushed my elbows across the table, my legs spread wide underneath it. I was as sprawled out as my damn feelings. “You invited me to game night, and then I found out the guys were going. And, at that point, I knew I couldn’t just leave him alone. I figured what would the harm be in one last hot guy before I settled for someone practical?” I pulled my hair a little, deserving the pain. “God, that sounds awful out loud. It was awful. And stupid.”
She lifted her ass, sat on her bent leg, and then rested her chin in her palm.
“So…”
“Then we made out and he …” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “…remember what I said about Joe? The hands? That was him. After that, it was all downhill. We had sex and kind of started hanging out. I decided I’d only let it last until the wedding. After that, I was going to give him up, like candy for lent, and be good. I planned to grow up and find a normal guy. Jodi, he’s so not normal.”
“What happened?”
I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling the cool air blow on me from the vent above the table.
“He had this thing where he didn’t want Reuben to find out, and I really didn’t want you guys telling me you told me so. Basically, we kept it on the down low. Then it all felt different.”
“But after you guys started spending time with each other, why didn’t you tell us then? If it was so different.”
“I didn’t believe it was really different. I kind of thought he was just good at the game. You know? I expected him to drop me at any second. I was living for the sexual moment. When I went to the cabin early, he was there.” I whispered again. “It was so fun and real, and then he wanted to know if I loved him.”
Her eyes bugged out, and she covered her mouth. “Really?”
“Really. That’s usually hot guy code for I’m out if you’ve got feelings. Which I never let myself do.”
“Except,” she led. The bitch knew where I was going.
“Except I did. Then I didn’t know what to do and avoided him, and we got into a huge fight at the wedding. I’m so ready to not play these stupid ass games anymore. I just want a relationship with someone I like. Like Becca and Reuben or you and Matt.”
“Matt and I are not a good example of a relationship. Or two people who like each other, for that matter.”
Whoa. I’d been wondering about them, and it was a great time to get a quick break from my shit and ask about hers. “Why not?”
“Well, our beginning was great. So great that we got pregnant after only seeing each other for about six months. Now we nearly hate each other, and we have a two-year-old. So just because it’s good in the beginning doesn’t mean it’s always going to be like that. Not that I’d change anything because Max is my whole life, but I guess you never know until you go all the way. Matt and I went, and now I know. It’s not good for us.”
I took a sip of my tea that was finally an ingestible temperature. I hated hearing they were having problems. I’d been rooting for them until he started acting like a fucking tool.
She waved her hands, signaling she didn’t want to talk about it. I couldn’t blame her; she was at work and all, but I’d have to make sure to give her some extra attention. Make sure she knew she wasn’t alone.
“Is there really shit in this tea?” I asked after another drink.
“Yes.”
Now that I could taste it, I was sure I’d made the wrong decision—a true talent of mine. “It’s not very good.”
“It’s not coffee.” She shook her head and got us back on topic. “So, what are you going to do? Because this …” Her fingers drew an imaginary frame around my face. “…isn’t going to work.”
I swore if you cut her arms off, she’d be mute.
“Isn’t this what women do when they break up? Mope around for a while, then figure out how to move on?”
“Is that what you’re doing? Moving on?”
“No, I’m still moping.”
“How long is that going to last?”
I looked at my wrist for the time, but I wasn’t wearing a watch. Besides that, it was going to take much longer than minutes or hours. “Well, I’ve only been really hardcore at it for about a day, but my vacation doesn’t end until next Monday.”
“Have you talked to him since the fight?”
“No.”
“Damn. And you’re not going to try to talk to him?”
It wasn’t like I hadn’t opened and reread our old messages, trying to come up with something, but nothing felt right. “And say what?”
She looked around. “You could apologize for being dumb, for starters.”
I kicked her. “You’re a bitch.”
“I have to get back to work, but I’m off on Tuesday. We should hang out, but only if you’re not moping anymore. I can’t handle looking at you. You’re like an orphan and not the cute kind. More like a misunderstood-kid-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks-who’s-fallen-into-the-rough-crowd kind.”
I put my head down like in the game Seven-Up waiting for someone to touch my thumb and get me the fuck out of there.
“Fine. I’ll let you know if I don’t get thrown in juvie.”
She patted my head before she left.
Why? Why did it have to be a head pat? Would reminders of him ever go away?
People started coming in, considering it was Saturday and almost lunchtime, so I gathered my wits and stretched before I stood.
Trevor was re-filling the cream and milk out on the self-serve bar when my eyes came back into focus.
“You never saw me here,” I warned and gave him the look.
His hands came up in defense. “Saw who?”
When I threw my cup in the trash beside him, he added, “But for the record, he looks like he’s on vacation too.” He used air quotes around vacation, and I wondered how many months in juvenile detention I’d get for tripping him. The smart ass.
There was no way Cord was as miserable as me.