Chapter Eighteen
Dax
The shock in Lisa’s eyes would be completely undetectable to anyone who hadn’t spent the last month watching for clues to her state of mind.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Kaitlyn,” Lisa says with so much poise and charm she’s practically oozing it.
My ex-girlfriend extends her own manicured hand, and the two ladies exchange the most civilized, frosty handshake in the history of female handshakes. “Likewise,” Kaitlyn says, eyeing Lisa up and down. “Lovely dress. Naeem Khan, right?”
Lisa nods and tosses her hair, cool as can be. “That’s right. Yours is beautiful, too.”
“Mmm, thank you. It’s Versace.”
“Yes, I recognize it. From their fall collection, yes?”
I grit my teeth, understanding this as part of the mating dance that’s done between the social elite at events like this where everyone’s trying to figure out how some new introduction might benefit their career or social status. Three years with Kaitlyn made me familiar with it, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it. The women chatter on about their shoes and handbags and I start to tune out until I hear my own name.
“Dax, sweetie.” Kaitlyn rests a hand on my arm, and I wonder if Lisa recognizes it’s a power play. Probably not, since she has no way of knowing my ex was never an arm toucher or a pet name user during our time together. Kaitlyn’s shark smile is another indicator, and she flashes it at me before continuing. “How do you and Lisa know each other?”
I glance at Lisa, waiting to see what she’d like to volunteer. How she’d like to frame our relationship. “We met at the Driftwood Room,” Lisa says, taking charge of the conversation and steering it back to safer turf. “Have you been there?” Lisa asks. “Their Sazerac is to die for.”
“I haven’t yet, no.” Kaitlyn’s guarded expression says she’s weighing how crucial this might be to her social standing. “How does it compare to the Sazerac at Pepe Le Moko?”
“Mmm, they use George Dickel rye and a splash of hibiscus tea simple syrup, for starters. Very fresh and unique.”
I start to tune out again, wishing like hell we’d made it to the bar. I could go for two fingers of Jack Daniels neat right about now. I consider slipping away, or maybe signaling Lisa that I need some air. Then again, maybe a connection with Kaitlyn could benefit her business somehow. Far be it from me to fuck that up for her.
I’ve lost track of the conversation again when I hear Kaitlyn’s voice addressing me.
“So, Dax,” she says. “I hear you’re kind of a bigshot now.”
The words are barbed hooks, but the bait is tough to resist. This is what I’ve wanted, right? A chance to rub my ex’s face in the fact that I’ve moved on to better things?
One of those better things saves me by resting her hand on my arm and giving a reassuring smile. “Dax’s company was just mentioned in Oregon Business magazine,” Lisa says, giving my arm an almost imperceptible squeeze. “Maybe you saw the article?”
“Maybe.” Kaitlyn glances at me, calculating. She picks up the event program off the bar table next to us and flips it open. “Well, then. Maybe you’d like to bid on one of the silent auction items? On behalf of the company, of course.”
She holds the program open in front of me, and I glance down at the sea of words. Letters swirl in a chaotic alphabet hurricane that makes no sense at all. Words, so many goddamn words. A cold sweat prickles my forehead, and my pulse starts to hammer in my ears.
I know this feeling. I know it so fucking well and I hate it.
“Uh—” I jab a finger at one collection of indecipherable letters and shrug. “Sure. I think I’ll bid on that.”
Lisa glances down at the page, and the two women titter with laughter. Kaitlyn covers her mouth in feigned politeness, but not before I see traces of a smirk. “Oh, Dax,” Kaitlyn says. “You’re useless.”
Still giggling, Lisa gives a little head shake. “Come on, now. Men are always a little hopeless when it comes to that sort of buying decision.”
Kaitlyn takes the program back and shakes her head at whatever the hell I’ve pointed at. “Yeah, but it would be just your dumb luck he’d end up winning it. Then you’d be stuck.”
Rage is bubbling hot and sour in my chest. I’m not sure where it’s coming from, but their words bounce off my eardrums like stones thrown at a brick wall.
Useless.
Hopeless.
Dumb.
There’s not enough air in the room. I yank at my tie, desperate to get out of here. Desperate to escape the money and the condescension and the fake laughter and clinking glasses.
I mumble something about needing air as I turn and stalk out of the room. Laughter echoes behind me, and my mouth fills with the sour taste of orange popsicle and shame.
I don’t stop walking until I find myself out in the parking lot. Standing there with my back against the building, I gulp huge lungs full of air until my breathing begins to slow.
“Dax?”
I turn to see Lisa approaching, her expression pinched with worry. “Are you okay?”
She totters a little on too-high heels, and I hate myself for feeling judgmental instead of protective. But goddammit, who the hell chooses footwear that practically begs for a broken ankle? People who give a shit about appearances, that’s who.
“Go back inside,” I say. “I need a minute.”
Twin creases appear between her brows, and she glances uncertainly back over her shoulder. “Is this about the cufflinks?”
“Cufflinks?”
“The ones you pointed at in the catalog. The four-thousand-dollar solid gold Star Wars cufflinks. I’m sorry, I thought they seemed a little ridiculous, but I guess—”
“Ridiculous.” The word is bitter and sharp on my tongue, and I spit it onto the pile of judgements that have been hurled at me throughout my life.
“Dax?”
I turn to see her brow furrowed in confusion. “Why are you here, Lisa?”
She looks at me uncertainly. “I just wanted to be sure you’re okay,” she says. “Everyone around us got kind of worried when you went shoving through the crowd like a Walmart customer on Black Friday.”
I know she’s trying to lighten the mood, but something about the joke makes me angrier. She’s standing here in her gazillion-dollar dress and gazillion-dollar shoes like someone who’s never set foot in a discount store. Never had to shop the sales or scramble for every goddamn penny.
You don’t have to, either, dumbass. Not anymore.
I might have money now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t remember what it feels like to go to bed hungry. To feel the scornful eyes of people like Kaitlyn and Lisa and all the rest of them.
I clear my throat, recognizing that I need to be very, very careful right now.
“You’d better go back inside, then.” There’s a dark note in my voice that I wish wasn’t there, and I scrub my hands down my face in hopes of resetting my attitude. “If you care so damn much what everyone thinks of you, you’d better not leave the gossip squad alone for too long.”
Her expression shifts from concern to irritation. She folds her arms over her chest and stares me down. “What is that supposed to mean?”
I should just apologize for being an asshole, put my arm around her, and take her back inside to grab that glass of wine.
But a lifetime of shame and anger and judgment are bubbling in my gut, and I can’t seem to stop them from frothing up through my stupid mouth. “It means I don’t belong here, Lisa. And clearly, you do.”
She stares at me. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Maybe it is.”
Her eyes narrow. “What are you driving at?”
I could stop this now. Just shut the fuck up and quit talking.
But I don’t. I pivot to face her, angrier than I have any right to be. “Look, you’re the one who decided to change your life,” I growl. “To let go of the trappings of your pampered, elitist world and become a better person.”
She reacts like I’ve just slapped her, and maybe I have. Never in the weeks we’ve known each other have I been so blunt in my judgment. I open my mouth to apologize, but she’s already shaking her head.
“The Test was an experiment,” she says. “A temporary way for me to try new things and learn about myself. I never planned to become my own polar opposite for all of eternity.”
The word temporary rings in my head, bouncing off my brain’s soundwaves with useless and hopeless and dumb until all of them blend into a shrill scream that makes my hands ball into fists.
“Congratulations, then,” I tell her. “You’ve spent your thirty days slumming it in the ghetto. Done your charity work, rubbed shoulders with the unclean, gotten fucked in an alley, all that good stuff.”
She flinches at that last part. I should stop, but I can’t. “You’re officially done with The Test,” I say. “There’s nothing keeping you here.”
“Clearly,” she mutters, then winces. “I didn’t mean—”
“No, I know what you meant.” I shake my head, knowing damn well I have no reason to respond in anger, when I’m the one who started this. But I can’t seem to stop.
“Go on, Lisa. Go back to your perfect, polished little life.”
“What?”
“We’re done now, right? Thirty days. That was the agreement.”
Tears fill her eyes. That’s the worst part. I wish she’d yell or scream or kick me. Tell me I’m being a selfish asshole. All of that would be true.
But instead, a single tear spills down her cheek. “Why are you doing this?” she whispers. “I don’t understand where this is coming from.”
I don’t understand, either. Or maybe I do. It’s about where I come from, which is vastly different from Lisa’s world. How did I not realize that before? What kind of idiot entertains the idea that an uneducated dumbshit from the wrong side of the tracks could ever have any place in a world like Lisa’s?
You. You’re the dumbshit.
“It was fun while it lasted, but I think we’re done now,” I say slowly. “Don’t you?”
“Done,” she repeats as she stares at me. “With us, you mean.”
I nod once, not able to say the words. It takes me a full ten seconds to force them up past the knot in my throat. “This was temporary, anyway. You said so yourself.”
“In the beginning it was,” she says slowly, eyes still glittering with tears. “But I thought we were both starting to feel something else. Something different.”
I shake my head and glance away, knowing I can’t say what I need to with those green eyes boring into my soul. “You thought wrong.”
I can’t look at her. I need to end this now. This conversation, this charade, this stupid hope that I could ever have something long-term with someone as smart, beautiful, and sophisticated as Lisa.
You’d only fuck it up anyway.
My chest aches like someone’s standing on it, and I can only imagine how much worse it would be if we let things go longer. If I got attached, if I fell in love—
You’re already in love.
“No!”
I turn to see her blinking at me like I’ve just cursed in church, which is the least of my offenses. I take a step back, needing to put more distance between us. Needing to commit fully to what is hands-down my dumbest act of self-preservation in my whole history of misguided decisions. I yank at the goddamn tie, ready to rip the fucking thing off my throat.
“We’re too different,” I growl. “Isn’t that clear by now? Hasn’t it been the whole time we’ve been doing The Test? It was the whole point, wasn’t it?”
She shakes her head slowly as another tear slips down her cheek. “We’re more alike than you think.” She reaches up and dashes the tear away, and I want to pull her against my chest. To fix what I’ve just smashed to pieces.
A door slams nearby, and she whirls around to see who’s it is. It’s just a waiter coming out for a smoke break, and her face is washed with relief as she turns back to face me.
“Thank God it’s not my sister,” she says. “Or Kaitlyn or—”
“Go back inside,” I say again. “The last thing you want is for people to see you out here with me.”
She stares at me for a moment then shakes her head. “Dax.”
I don’t know what else she planned to say. She presses her lips together, tears still glittering in her eyes, but they aren’t falling anymore. I fold my arms so I don’t reach for her. So I don’t make this harder on us both.
She nods once. “Fine. If that’s what you want.”
It’s not what I want. Not at all. But I can’t make myself say those words out loud.
Or any words at all as she turns and walks away, her expensive heels clicking on wet pavement.
Shame and anger and self-pity foam up in my chest like a toxic volcano.
Of all the stupid things you’ve done—
Stupid. That’s exactly what I am. It’s all I’ll ever be. Surely Lisa knows that? It’s better this way, it has to be.
She disappears into the building, and the door slams shut behind her, a hard, metal clang that echoes off the bricks behind me.
I close my eyes and lean back against the cold, damp wall, hating myself more than I have in my entire life.