“I’ll refund you the money.” A rental refund, a divorce, and a lawyer. It’s a good thing I have more than my rainy-day fund to help me.
“I’m sure you can’t do that. I mean, I can engage a lawyer too, if you like. Maybe a fancy Portland one. I might end up owning your house by the time we’re through.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” I assert as he levels me with a glare. “I know you wouldn’t.”
“Try me.” His gaze roams over me again. “People do horrible things when they’re pushed to their limits, little love.”
“Maybe you should take your own advice.”
“You want me to try you?” His eyes flick over me again only as his long fingers meander slowly down his chest. I know a ploy when I see one, but I also know I won’t get to look at him like this many more times. “Because I’d try you anytime.” The hunger in his words echoes through my insides. My head knows this is dangerous territory, but my heart won’t give in.
“Try my patience,” I force myself to return. “I’ve already started the refund process,” I say, beginning to step backwards to stop myself from throwing myself at him. “I want you out before Wilder comes home on Sunday.”
At this, he barks out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”
“You need to think of him!”
“I am. I’m thinking how confusing it’ll be for him.”
“That’s exactly why you need to move. He understands families are made from all kinds of relationships. You being here blurs those lines so much.”
“Your lines, you mean.”
“Yes, my lines, too. We can’t be together, Roman. Can’t you see that?”
“What I see is someone frightened. Someone not thinking straight.”
“You’re wrong. And you’re going away. Whether it’s now or not for months, it doesn’t matter. The sooner Wilder understands, the better he’ll be able to cope. I’m not saying you’re abandoning him. I’m saying he needs to learn that you won’t always be close by.”
Roman slides a hand to the back of his neck and angles his cool blue gaze to mine. “This is not about him.”
“It is. And we need to do the best for him.” With this, I turn and make my way down the steps. I want to run. Run so far that my problems can’t catch up with me, but I don’t think there’s enough road in the world to make that possible. Instead, I force my feet to take one step at a time, clasping my hands to my sides.
I can’t let him know that I’m crying.
35
Roman
PRESENT
FREE BALLIN’
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Bringing the shoulders of my T-shirt together, I drop it to the railing. “What does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re taking your clothes off. In my garden!”
For days, she’s pretended she’s not home.
“Nothing wrong with your eyesight,” I mutter, bringing my hands to the waistband of my shorts. The screen door creaks in protest as she pushes it open. It slams closed again with a thwack as I dig my thumbs into the elastic and glance up at her with a silent dare. Come closer, little love. You know you want to. “Something I can help you with?”
Wednesday, she politely suggested I move out.
“Yes, you can stop that.” She lifts her chin as though her position at the top of the stairs isn’t quite high enough for her to look down at me.
With my thumbs still tucked in the waistband, I use the side of my foot to push my running shoes and socks a little to the left. “Stop what?” I slide my thumbs—and my shorts—lower, revealing a little more of my dark happy trail.
“That!” Her eyes dart away, but that only proves she was looking in the first place. “Don’t—”
“You don’t want to see my under-daks? Oops!” With a vindictive smile, I slide them the rest of the way. “Doesn’t look like I’ve got any on.”
Thursday, I came home from my run to a note taped to the door, printed on the booking company’s notepaper.
Dear Mr Phillips,
On behalf of your host, we regret to inform you that due to unforeseen maintenance issues, the accommodation booked as The Pixie House, Mookatill, must be vacated by 5:00 today.
Your refund has been processed, and we would like to offer you a ten percent discount on any further booking through the app.
Yours,
blah, blah, blah.
Maintenance issue, my arse. I ignored it and their email.
This morning, I flicked on the tap to brush my teeth to find there was no water.
I’d used a bottle of water from the fridge and headed out for my run. I find running almost meditative. It clears the mind of all the unnecessary, useless stuff. Or it usually does because all it did today was feed my sense of pettiness.
This isn’t a maintenance issue. It’s sabotage.