Standing up, I arched a brow as my father began to unload a ton of bags from the car and bring them towards the dry porch. Clearly they hadn’t been at church. My mom offered me a winning smile as I asked, “Where the heck did you guys go?”
“Shopping for our trip,” she sang and I laughed, my dad offering me that look. The one that had me realizing that not only were these bags filled with new things that had nothing to do with their couples trip, but that there were more on the way. I knew my father could have had it all shipped and white glove delivered, so I found it sweet he still wanted to carry stuff for my mom.
She was totally using this trip as an excuse to change out her wardrobe for the season. Not that she needed a reason! My dad would hand her diamonds on a plate every single day if that’s what she wanted. Honestly, their relationship was pretty adorable. Unfortunately, it made me a bit bummed out, considering the internal thoughts that had been plaguing me all morning.
“Honey,” my mom said when coming back outside after dropping her purse. “Can you do me a huge favor? Can you run to the grocery store and grab me some of the ingredients to make lemon blueberry pound cake? I forgot to grab them earlier this week, and the Gateses are coming over for dinner. Trinity and I are going to plan some fun excursions for Naples.”
And drink wine. Lots of wine.
Honestly, I found it hilarious that while they could have hired a travel agent, they decided to do it on their own because they found it ‘fun’ rather than stressful.
“Sure.” I let out a yawn, carrying my cup inside. My mom rarely asked me to do stuff, plus I could pick up something to drink for while I was sitting at the game in a few hours. Maybe hot chocolate? It wasn’t cold, but it was rainy. I felt like that could work.
I grabbed my purse before making my way towards the car, not needing a list because this was literally one of my mom’s signature recipes. She also almost always forgot to pick up the ingredients while grocery shopping. Seriously, my dad had to run out almost weekly. As I slipped into my car, I frowned, realizing I’d left my phone upstairs but decided that I probably didn’t need it.
I mean, who was going to text me? Anyone important knew where I lived.
Maybe I needed to get a new phone. I had considered that, but after everything that had happened, I was hesitant to do so because I felt like it would be pretty obvious that something was still going on. So I continued to hold off and hoped that a message wouldn’t come in at an inconvenient time. I also just left my phone dead a lot, which was great in the moment… until I turned it on and had to deal with multiple messages flooding in.
The drive to the store was relatively short and peaceful, the classical music playing lightly in the background causing my anxiety to drain slightly. I parked, my smile growing as I realized Stratton’s dark vintage Porsche sat there, as if waiting for me to pull up right next to it. What was he doing here? I may have sped up just a bit getting out of the car because I wanted to see him… but I would never admit that.
While making my way through the store, grabbing the ingredients for my mom along with some hot chocolate packets, I checked each aisle, wanting to make sure I hadn’t missed him. I mean, it was possible Lori was here instead, but that was extremely unlikely.
“Stratton,” a masculine voice said in greeting from an aisle over, making me pause. “I heard you didn’t show at the fight last night.”
“Something came up.” Stratton’s voice was harder and more tense than I’d ever heard it. I frowned, not understanding what was going on or who had approached him.
“Was it that little girlfriend of yours everyone is talking about?” the man goaded as a second voice laughed, the tension thickening in the air.
Girlfriend? My heart ached as I squeezed the basket I was carrying, hoping that Stratton had been honest yesterday. I mean, he wouldn’t lie about something like that, right? About another woman? Not that there was a place to be ‘another’ since I wasn’t the ‘first’ or ‘main’ in any way. You know what? I couldn’t do this mental and emotional gymnastics right now.
I hoped there was no other girl Stratton was interested in. There. Simple.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Stratton’s voice almost sounded lazy and indifferent, but I knew him well enough to hear the anger there.
“What’s her name again? Dahlia?” the other man asked. “Yeah, we heard all about her—”
“Dahlia is not my girlfriend,” Stratton said, his voice firm and harsh. At that moment, I was glad that I was hidden, because his words, despite being true, had my chest feeling tight as I blinked away any possible emotion. I knew I needed to listen to what was going on in this moment, that it was important, even if my heart was breaking.
“Nah, I heard you two are together all the time,” the first man chuckled. “But hey man, I get it. No one is asking you to label the pussy you’re getting.”
I winced at the way he phrased that as I waited for Stratton’s response, the tension high and making me want to see his expression so badly. When he did speak, though, I was glad I couldn’t see his eyes, because I had no doubt they were dark and cold.
“Dahlia is not my girlfriend. We just live in the same community. She hung around me all summer like a lost puppy, so I took pity on her whenever I was bored. That’s all.”
Oh. Okay, then.
My fingers tangled in my hair, or tried to, only to realize that I had put it in braids, so my nervous habit was impossible. I didn’t want to believe that he had just said what he did, but when the two other men began talking about other women, seeming to believe him, the reality of his words hit me. And they hit deep. Sliced deep. I could feel them burying themselves deep in my sternum. Before I could stop it, tears streamed down my face, but I brushed them away and inhaled sharply.
Why was I crying?
I was not going to cry about Stratton or let him find me like this.
I would think about this when I got home. I needed to get out of here. Now.
Walking towards the register, I managed to keep myself together throughout the entire checkout process, his words ringing in my ears.A lost puppy? Seriously?As I finished up my purchase, I took the receipt from the clerk and looked up to find Stratton’s gaze fixed on mine in surprise from two stalls down. I saw the realization transform from shock to something that looked almost like anger, probably at what he saw on my face, before my eyes began to water.
I was walking out of the store, head down, bags in hand, trying to get into the car as fast as possible. I couldn’t deal with him. Not yet.