She sniffles.
“Hey, what’s going on?” No response. “Look at me, Skittles.”
“I shouldn’t have called you,” she says finally. “I’m not sure what I was thinking.”
“What the hell, woman. I gave you my number so you could call me.” I’m pissed she thought to keep me in the dark or not lean on me when she needs someone. When I was in a shitty mood the night we first met, she was there to brighten me up. Whether that was intentional or not is irrelevant. “Look at me.”
She sighs and slowly turns her head. The skin around her eyes is red, and unshed tears shimmer. They burn me like acid, maybe because Skittles is trying so hard to be strong. Or maybe it’s just because it’s her.
“I have something in my eyes,” she says. “It’s been irritating them.”
I nod, determined to spare her pride. “I can see that. Have any eye drops?”
“No. It’s okay. They’ll get better soon.”
“Okay.” I hold her hand. It’s cool and limp. I squeeze, trying to warm it.
“I quit my job,” she says suddenly.
I stare at her, holding my breath, while my brain works furiously to process what she just said. Is this the same woman who told me she couldn’t date because she needed to be promoted? It sounded like she was really close. If I didn’t know her twin was on her honeymoon, I might’ve thought I was talking with Curie, not Skittles.
“I thought you enjoyed your job,” I say, choosing my words with care.
“I do.” Pain twists her beautiful face as though somebody sliced her gut. “Well, did. But it’s different now.”
Then, between sniffles, she tells me what her dad told her. I can’t believe Steve crushed her spirit and ambition with such cruelty. Not only that, he’s basically trying to put her on a path to end up like my mother. And I’ll be damned if Skittles ends up as brittle and selfish as Mom. She deserves to shine, bubbling with delight.
“I know he’s your father, and don’t take this the wrong way, but he’s full of shit,” I say.
“I feel stupid.” She sighs, deflating further. “Everything I did was for nothing. I was never going to advance—was never going to amount to anything.”
If Steve were here, I’d punch him in the mouth. I thought he was better than this. Aren’t all parents—I mean, except mine—better than this? “Don’t say that. That’s just one man’s opinion. And he’s dead wrong.”
She dabs at her eyes. “You were right. Somebody was sabotaging me. I just never thought it would be my dad.”
Damn it. I wish I knew how to fix this for her. But I can’t even fix my own family; what do I know about other people’s? The only thing I can think of to make it better is… “Do you want to grab a drink?”
She checks the time. “It’s barely three.”
“So? You, uh, seem to have the rest of the day off.”
She gives me a look and then snorts a small laugh. “Yeah. You could say that.”
“I can be your designated driver. And it’ll be my treat.” A few drinks, maybe a cheesy movie and dinner should cheer her up. And chocolate. Can’t forget the chocolate. First rule of cheering—
“It’s okay.” She looks at our linked hands. “I should probably go home.”
She doesn’t move, though. Just looks infinitely sad and alone.
“Want to come over to my place?” I say. “It’s close to here and has a few nice bottles of wine and whiskey.” The stuff Tony left behind…and I “forgot” to take over to his new place. His wine cellar looks full anyway. “And a pool and tons of movies we can stream. I think I might even have some ice cream.” Or at least I hope I do. I tend to go through it pretty quickly.
“You don’t mind?”
“Of course not.” It’ll be my pleasure to put cheeriness back into her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Pascal