47

AIDEN

 

It has been a week since she left. A week of hell. And I’m about to put an end to it.

She stormed out of my office and out of my life.

I stayed at work until midnight that night, working, being a stubborn asshole with the door shut and the blinds closed, expecting to come home to more of a fight with her, but my apartment was just empty. She left the spare room just as she’d found it. No trace of her there except a bunch of banana Post-its strangely tucked into her drawer. She was saving them.

Fuck me. That was when I sat on the floor in her room and drank almost a whole bottle of bourbon. And my life has been shit for a solid week.

The next morning, my father was at my apartment, standing over me where I was passed out on her bedroom floor, telling me Carly had tried to tender her resignation by email to him.

“I refused it. I told her to take a week and think about it. We’d cover her.”

“She’s done with me,” I said.

And then I told him what I did. I told him how I fucked back the bitch who did that to me. I told him how I’d fuck over anyone who fucked me first, that fucked Audra over. I did it red-faced and rage-filled, and expected him to be proud of me or something.

And he was so fucking disappointed in me, it hurt.  It fucking hurt.

He told me to take the day off, to think about my actions. I was still holding my anger in. I refused. I went it late and I kept working, kept ripping into my employees and making them cower.

Ally showed up at my apartment door that night, wanting to talk to Carly.

“She left,” I told her. “She must’ve gone back to Buffalo.”

“Why?” Ally asked. “What happened with you two?”

“I’m an alpha male asshole, I guess.” I shrugged. “Now go.” I opened the door and waved her out.

She gave me a supremely disappointed look. “You’re gonna be sorry if you don’t bust your ass to win her back.”

She left. And then I put my fist through a wall.

There are flowers on my dresser that are dying. There’s food in my fridge that is rotting. There’s her shampoo and conditioner in my shower beside my fucking pocket pussy, that hasn’t been used since she last used it on me.  There’s the smell of her on my sheets.

I told myself, fuck this shit. If she found it easy to cut and run just like that, maybe it was better I knew it now rather than down the road before she destroyed my heart.

But a week later, and I know it was already too late. I’m gutted without her.

I need to fix this.

 

***

I get a text from Jude while I’m on the way to the airport. The text is about a piece of jewelry at a shop in Rochester that matches the description of one of the photos. He’s had the shop owner put it aside for inspection.

***

 

I fly to New York on day seven. I pick up my New York SUV, a Range Rover that’s parked in the underground garage at the condo, and drive toward Rochester.

I later head to Buffalo.

When I pull into her driveway, a guy around mid-forties steps out. I recognize him from the photos on the walls. Carly’s father, Darryl Adler.

He stands on the side door step and folds his arms across his chest. He’s tall, thin, dark hair and glasses. Carly’s got his eyes.

I step out of the car and approach.

“Mr. Adler?”

“You the sonofabtich that broke my baby girl’s heart?”

Fuck. Fuck me.

“That would be me.”

“Get in there ‘n fix it,” he orders and jerks his head to the door. “She’s in my TV room. She don’t belong in there. Can’t watch my shows. She’s watchin’ some stupid sitcom my wife says she watched with you. Get down there and get me my man cave back.”

“Yes sir,” I say and open the storm door.

Fuck. That went easier than I expected. But, next comes the hard part.

I’ve got a leather backpack slung over one shoulder. I step into the kitchen.

Charlene Adler is at the counter, frosting a cake.  She looks over her shoulder at me and gives me a cold look.

“I’m sorry for hurting her,” I say, not wanting this woman to hate my guts.

“Did you know it’s her birthday today? Is that why you waited so long? Planned to make a grand gesture?”

I shake my head. “It’s her birthday?”

She nods.

Fuck.

“It’s good you’re here. You’ve waited long enough. Now, get down there and fix this. You’ve got thirty minutes before dinner’s ready.”

Thirty minutes to convince the girl I love that she should take a chance on me?

I go to move through the space.

“Aiden?”

I stop and look at Carly’s mother.

“Shoes off in the house.” She gestures with her chin.

“Sorry.” I take them off, grateful she told me, knowing she did because she doesn’t want to hold a lifelong grudge. Let’s hope her daughter is willing to extend the same courtesy.

I move through the space, taking in those pictures of Carly on the walls. Pictures of her older sister. Almost as pretty as Carly, though not quite.

I move down the basement stairs and hear a familiar theme song playing.

I step into the space.

It’s dark and she’s on the couch, cuddling a pillow, watching the show. She’s in my Berkeley sweatshirt. Little vixen stole it. She’s wearing yoga pants and has fuzzy orange socks on her feet.

I stop in front of her.

Her mouth drops open.

“Hi,” I say.

She bites her lips and says nothing.

I sit down on the coffee table in front of her, facing her. I reach for the remote and pause the TV. I set my backpack on the floor and unzip it.

“Got your tiara back.” I lift a Ziploc bag out with the tiara inside.

Her hand goes over her mouth.

I put it beside me.

“Told them we didn’t want the panties. They can burn them.  I got this back, too.”

I pull out a velvet pouch and hand it to her.

She holds her hand out. I drop it in her palm, tickling that palm briefly by tracing my index finger across it.

Her eyes are on me and they’re filled with pain.

She opens the drawstring and reaches in and pulls out an emerald and amber monarch butterfly broach. It’s fucking hideous. She sees it and starts to ugly-cry. Women call it ugly-crying, but she’d never be ugly to my eyes. I want to reach for her, but have no idea if she’ll punch me in the face or not.

“I got word which pawn shop had it, over in Rochester, so I stopped there on my way here.  Still looking for the rest.”

I reach into my bag. “This is kinda stupid now after all that. Maybe I should’ve done this first…”

“What?” she whispers from behind her hand, clutching the butterfly to her heart.

I pull out a McDonald’s hot apple pie, a small bunch of bananas, and a bottle of hot cock sauce and put them on the table.

Her shoulders shake with laughter. She’s still got tears in her eyes.

I still don’t know if this is gonna go my way or not.

I reach into the bag and pull out another Ziploc.

“Five thumb drives. Incriminating evidence about girls I’ve… I used to hook up with. These are the only copies. You can destroy them.”

I see a half a bottle of water on the table.

I grab it and uncap it and pour the water directly into the Ziploc and zip it back up. I set it down on the table. She watches all this, saying nothing.

“I’m an idiot, Carly. I’ve spent years being the kind of guy just waiting on the edge of my seat for someone to try to fuck me over, so I could fuck them back.  I could blame my mother with her pawning us off on the help, with her cheating, I could blame my father for being a workaholic. I could blame the few women that fucked me over, but truth is that I lose out on the ratio because I fucked a lot of them over before they could fuck me. I was raised in the same house as Austin and Adele and they’re not as fucked up as I am. I’ve decided to stop being fucked up over stuff that’s in the past. It was a cautionary tale when I realized I held onto that DNA test for a year just so I could be angry and brood about something that wasn’t even real. I’m done with that shit. I took the video of Bella down. I deleted that channel. I know people on that email list saw, but I had the video down the day after you left me. It took a few more days of having my head up my ass and feeling lost without you before I decided to come up here and try to get you back. I don’t know if she got my message or not, but I texted Bella to tell her I’m done warring with her. It’s safe for her to come home if she wants to.”

She puts the broach down and reaches into the pocket of my sweatshirt that she’s got on for a wad of tissue. She pulls one out and dabs at her eyes, putting the rest of it on the table.

“Happy Birthday, peaches,” I say. “I didn’t bring you a present. I didn’t know.”

She closes her eyes and sucks on her lip.

“I’ll let you keep my sweatshirt that you evidently stole.” I whisper. “Will you go on a date with me? I’ll buy you more Hot Apple Pie from McDonalds.”

She opens her arms up wide, chin trembling. I grab her, spin around and sit on the couch so she’s straddling me and I hold her tight.

She starts crying into my jacket.

“I didn’t steal your sweatshirt. You g-got Joshua to b-bring my stuff back from NYC and this was packed with it. I didn’t notice until I got here.”

“You can still keep it,” I whisper into her throat.

“I’ve worn it every day since I’ve been home.”

I squeeze her.

“I’m sorry if I smell funky, Aiden.”

“You don’t smell funky. I love you, Carly.”

“I love you, too, Aiden.”

“I’m sorry I was such a dick.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t give up on me. It might take me a while to learn to not be an alphahole, okay?”

“Okay. You can still be an alpha… I want you for you. Just lose the hole part, okay?”

“Anything for you.”