Part 28 (2/2)

He didn't deign to reply.

”What's the story behind the earrings, anyway?”

”I brought them with my first pay check after the record company signed us.”

”Wow. And you both wore them all this time. Even after she cheated on you and everything.”

”It was Jimmy,” he said. ”She cheated on me with Jimmy.”

Holy s.h.i.+t, his own brother. So many things fell into place with that piece of information. ”That's why you got so upset about finding him and that groupie together. And when you saw Jimmy talking to me at that party.”

”Yeah. It was all a long time ago, but ... Jimmy flew back for an appearance on a TV show. We were in the middle of a big tour, playing Spain at the time. The second alb.u.m had just hit the top ten. We were finally really pulling in the crowds.”

”So you forgave them to keep the band together?”

”No. Not exactly. I just got on with things. Even back then Jimmy was drinking too much. He'd changed.” He licked his lips, studied the table. ”I'm sorry about that night. More f.u.c.king sorry than I can say. What you walked in on ... I know how it must have looked. And I hated myself for lying to you about the earring, for still wearing it in Monterey.”

He flicked at his ear in annoyance. There was still a visible wound there with s.h.i.+ny, pink, nearly healed skin around it. It didn't look like a fading earring hole at all.

”What did you do there?” I asked.

”Cut across it with a knife.” He shrugged. ”An earring hole takes years to grow over. Made a new cut when you left so it could heal properly.”

”Oh.”

I waited to come talk to you because I needed some time. You walking out on me after you'd promised you wouldn't ... that was hard to take.”

”I didn't have any choice.”

He leaned toward me, his eyes hard. ”You had a choice.”

”I'd just seen my husband kissing another woman. And then you refused to even discuss it with me. You just started yelling at me about leaving. Again.” My hands gripped the edge of the table so tight I could feel my fingernails pressing into the wood. ”What the f.u.c.k should I have done, David? Tell me. Because I've played that scene over in my head so many times and it always works out the same way, with you slamming the door shut behind me.”

”s.h.i.+t.” He slumped back in his seat. ”You knew you leaving was a problem for me. You should have stuck with me, given me a chance to calm down. We worked it out in Monterey after that bar fight. We could have done it again.”

”Rough s.e.x doesn't fix everything. Sometimes you actually have to talk.”

”I tried to talk to you the other night at that club. Wasn't what was on your mind.”

I could feel my face heat up. It just p.i.s.sed me off even more.

”f.u.c.k. Look,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. ”The thing is, I needed to get us straight in my head, okay? I needed to figure out if us being together was the right thing. Honestly, Ev, I didn't want to hurt you again.”

A month he'd left me to stew in my misery. It was on the tip of my tongue to give him a flippant thank-you. Or even to flip him off. But this was too serious.

”You got us straight in your head? That's great. I wish I could get us straight in my head.” I stopped babbling long enough to drink more beer. My throat was giving sandpaper serious compet.i.tion.

He held himself perfectly still, watching me crash and burn with an eerie calm.

”So, I'm kind of beat.” I looked everywhere but at him. ”Does that cover everything you wanted to talk about?”

”No.”

”No? There's more?” Please, G.o.d, don't let there be more.

”Yeah.”

”Have at it.” Time to drink.

”I love you.”

I spat beer across the table, all over our combined hands. ”s.h.i.+t.”

”I'll get some napkins,” he said, releasing my hand and rising out of his chair. A moment later he was back. I sat there like a useless doll while he cleaned my arm and then the table, trembling was all I was good for. Carefully, he pulled back my seat, helped me to my feet and ushered me out of the bar. The hum of traffic and rush of city air cleared my senses. I had room to think out on the street.

Immediately my feet got moving. They knew what was up. My boots stomped across the pavement, putting serious distance between me and there. Getting the h.e.l.l away from him and what he'd said. David stayed right on my heels, however.

We stopped at a street corner and I punched the b.u.t.ton, waiting for the walk light. ”Don't say that again.”

”Is it such a surprise, really? Why the f.u.c.k else would I be doing this, huh? Of course I love you.”

”Don't.” I turned on him, face furious.

His lips formed a tight line. ”Alright. I won't say that again. For now. But we should talk some more.”

I growled, gnashed my teeth.

”Ev.”

c.r.a.p. Negotiation wasn't my strong suit. Not with him. I wanted him gone. Or at least, I was pretty certain I wanted him gone. Gone so I could resume my mourning for him and us and everything we might have been. Gone so I didn't have to think about the fact that he now thought he loved me. What utter emotional bulls.h.i.+t. My tear ducts went crazy right on cue. I took huge, deep breaths trying to get myself back under control.

”Later, not today,” he said, in an affable, reasonable voice. I didn't trust it or him at all.

”Fine.”

I strode another block with him hanging at my side until again a crossing stopped us cold, leaving room for conversation. He had better not speak. At least not until I got my s.h.i.+t together and figured all this out. I straightened my pencil skirt, tucked back my hair, fidgeted. The light took forever. Since when did Portland turn against me? This wasn't fair.

”We're not finished,” he said. It sounded like both a threat and a promise.

The first text arrived at midnight while I was lying on my bed, reading. Or trying to read. Because trying to sleep had been a bust. School started back soon but I was finding it hard to raise my usual enthusiasm for my studies. I had the worst feeling that the seed of doubt David had planted regarding my career choices had taken root inside my brain. I liked architecture, but I didn't love it. Did that matter? Sadly, I had no answers. Lots of excuses-some bulls.h.i.+t and some valid-but no answers.

David would probably say I could do whatever the f.u.c.k I wanted to. I knew all too well what my father would say. It wouldn't be pretty.

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