My cell starts buzzing, so I retrieve it and look down. It’s Whiskey returning my call, so I mute it and slide the phone back into my pocket.
“Say what you came to say, then leave. I need to work.”
“You know he doesn’t love you, right?” I say nothing. There’s no need to defend any of this, and especially not to Clinton. I have nothing left for Clinton, so I don’t particularly care what he even has to say.
“How is this any of your problem, Clinton? I’m confused what your agenda is for being here.”
His face goes red at my words. Is that anger or something else? Damned if I know.
“He’s lying to you. You know that, right?”
“Goodbye, Clinton,” I say, waving and walking away from him. I don’t trust him, didn’t when I was in a relationship with him, and don’t now. Another catastrophic mistake on my part.
“Did you know your father is the reason Whiskey’s father killed himself?” I stop in my tracks and turn around to face him. The bastard has a smug smirk on his face. “You didn’t know,” he muses. “Interesting.”
“How would you know that,” I ask. My phone is incessantly buzzing in my pocket. Lifting it, I see Whiskey’s name appear again.
“Ask him…” He indicates to my phone.
“No. Now leave.”
Clinton shakes his head. “Surely, you can’t be that silly. Can you?”
“Leave, Clinton. Now!”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I didn’t take you for being a stupid girl, but I’m proved wrong.”
I watch as he walks out, and when he does, I chase after him to lock the door so he can’t come back inside.
Whiskey picks me up. I don’t say hello. To be honest, I’m still processing what Clinton told me. If it’s right, or if he is simply stirring shit up. Whiskey and I are already fighting, and do I really need to make it worse? All my things are packed, and soon I will take them back to my old apartment.
I don’t want what he says or threatens anymore. Show the world our sex tape, right now. I don’t care. I give up trying to please everyone.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Whiskey says as he drives. I don’t reply, I just stay looking out the window. “Tell me what you’re mad about.”
Turning to face him, I see him watching me as he comes to a stop at a red light. I can’t stare long, feelings I wasn’t aware of come back full force, hitting me right where it hurts. My feelings for him are growing stronger, and they scare me. I don’t want to like my husband, let alone love him.
“I don’t hate you, Carla.”
I turn to face him. He isn’t watching me now, but his hands are gripped tightly around the steering wheel as he drives. Whiskey turns down a street, and soon we’re pulling to the curb.
“Clinton came to visit me today.”
Whiskey stops out front of a house with a wrap-around porch. I get out, not waiting for his reply as I walk up to the house.
Chance is already there waiting, and he’s smiling. “Thank God, she’s been asking when you are going to arrive. We’ve just put the little dude to sleep, so it will be just us,” Chance says, interrupting what I was going to say. I nod and offer a smile as Chance waves me in where I see Aubrey.
She walks over and wraps her arms around me, smiling when she pulls back. “Thank you so much for coming. I know you probably don’t think the best of me, but I am willing to change that.”
“I don’t blame you,” I tell her.
She simply nods, and when I turn back to look for Whiskey, he’s standing at the door, talking quietly to Chance.
“Unlikely friendship that one,” Aubrey comments. “But I guess they saw each other’s demons.” I look to her to see her looking at Aussie in a way that shines with nothing but love. Those two are really meant to be.
“You cooked?” I ask, changing the subject.
“I did…” She pauses and looks back to the boys. “Enough chatting, let’s go sit and have a drink.” She links arms with me and takes me to a dining room table which is full of food and drinks. A bouquet of flowers sits in the middle.
Aubrey pulls out my seat. “I think we should sit near each other.” She smiles, and I can tell she wants to be friends. I look up at Whiskey and Chance as they walk around the table to sit across from us. Whiskey watches me with intent, waiting for something I won’t and can’t give him.
“So, how’s it all been since the wedding?” Aubrey asks, pouring herself a drink.
When no one answers, she looks around at us and stops when she sees the look on her husband’s face. “Okay, how about a drink then?”