The Pact(53)

“Help?!” she sneers and then lets out a caustic laugh. “You don’t know how to help anyone but yourself. Poor little rich boy pretends to actually give a shit about the ones around him. You know, you say that your parents weren’t there for you, that they are heartless and cold, and I can see it. I can see that family resemblance in you. You’re going to be just like them, tossing aside your relationships when the going gets tough, hoping a little money and jewelry will help the problem.”

Her words cause me to panic. “No, that’s not what this is. That’s not who I am.” And yet I’m afraid because this was the thing I feared, that I was tossing away a relationship that maybe was fixable in the end.

But it doesn’t matter. The damage is done. The picture frame goes sailing through the air and I duck as it smashes against the wall behind me. She then proceeds to smash all the pictures in the room, even the ones that are hers, hauling them off the walls and shattering them on the floor. It’s true what they say about red-headed chicks, you know, they all have a wee bit of crazy in them.

Turns out Nadine was holding a surplus.

I barely make it out of that night alive and I don’t even go to work for the next few days because even seeing her there briefly would be bad enough. But by the time Saturday rolls around, the moving guys take the last of her stuff and she’s gone, out of my life.

At least until I see her at work on Monday.

I sit in my kitchen, drinking a gallon of orange juice right out of the container, and let the silence sink in. It’s starting to feel like mine again. I still feel like absolute wanker for breaking up with her at a time like this, but at least I did what I could to make sure she was comfortable.

It’s interesting how that makes me feel better though. I wonder if that’s how my parents felt when they were hit with a shred of guilt for never being around, for never being loving, and then threw money at the problem to fix it.

I was the problem, of course, and I don’t think money ever fixed all those holes they put in me. It didn’t stuff the absence I felt by not having a loving family.

I know I’m about to fall into a pit of self-loathing, so I get on my trainers and head out the door. I run forever, all the way along the Embarcadero to the Presidio and then back. Lombard Street nearly murders my thighs and my knees cry in pain on the way down, but I run until I no longer feel like I’m drowning.

Then I shower, get dressed and call a cab. I’m heading to The Burgundy Lion and when I come back home, I intend to not be sober.



***



“What are you doing here?” James asks as I sit at the bar.

I shrug and take off my jacket. “I’m a free man now, I can go where I want.”

“So she’s really gone, huh?” he asks as he automatically pours me a pint. He nods at it. “It’s the Longboard, best part of the keg.”

I gratefully take the beer and raise it at him. “Thank you for that.” I finish half of the glass and let out a long exhale. “Yeah. She’s really gone.”

He wipes down the counter, even though he doesn’t need to. I think he does it so he looks like he’s working, even though he’s just shooting the shit with me, even though it’s his fucking bar and he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

“I thought maybe you would have gone out there to help her unload and stuff. I mean, you’ve been pretty saintly about all of this so far.”

I raise my brow. “Have I? I thought I’ve been an outright dick.”

James shrugs. “She would have known that about you to begin with. And no, you haven’t been. Maybe it would have been better if you waited a bit before you dumped her but I guess I understand. When it’s over, it’s over.”

“Yeah. And I’ve never been very good at pretending.”

“No,” he says, holding my gaze for a moment, “you haven’t.”

I wonder what that’s all about but I don’t say anything. I finish the rest of the drink and then ask, “Where is Penny?”

His body seems to stiffen at the question and he looks away. “I’m not sure. Having a girl’s night.”

I nod, not sure if I should ask him if everything is okay. Instead, I cautiously ask, “Where is Steph?”

“Here,” he says.

“What?” I sit up a little straighter. “In the bar?”

He nods, narrowing his eyes a bit and then gestures to the other side of the bar. I lean over until I have a clear line of sight. She’s at one of the booths in the corner, sitting with Nicola and Kayla.

Oh boy. I know Kayla doesn’t like me and I’m pretty sure Nicola’s not my biggest fan either. Throw in the fact that Stephanie seems to absolutely hate my guts at the moment, and that’s a table I should stay far, far away from.