I swallowed thickly, but I allowed him to hold me. Why? Because I really needed to be held. Yes, we needed to talk this through, but it couldn’t happen in that moment. In that moment, I was vulnerable, and all of my emotions had been put on display. I needed space—time to myself. I needed it to be just me.
So I left Theo with a swift kiss on the lips and then the cheek, and he watched me walk across the street and into my house. As I shut the door behind me, my eyes flashed to Sterling who was sitting on the sofa, flipping channels with the TV remote. When he saw it was me walking through the door, he perked up, asking, “What in the hell was that about?”
I ignored him, slightly rolling my eyes as I made my way up the staircase. My door slammed, and I flopped on my bed, face-first. The cool sheets smothered the visible shame, and unfortunately, I could still breathe.
I didn’t deserve to breathe.
I didn’t deserve this shitty lifestyle.
I didn’t deserve to hide, suffer, or cry.
I deserved to be Chloe Knight.
Happy, carefree, and not so… guilty.
TWENTY-ONE
Two weeks.
That’s how much time went by, each day inching by like a snail on a hot summer day.
In between sneaking in and out of his house and having to be updated on when Trixie was gone, we tried to work something out. Of course we tried over and over again to stop seeing each other—end it all cold turkey, no looking back—but it was damn near impossible.
I couldn’t ignore him.
Not even when he moved. Luckily, Trixie didn’t know where his new place was right away, so she didn’t get the opportunity to show up like I could, but during the middle of our arrangements, she made an approach, demanding his address. I saw her show up at Theo’s house, angry about the For Sale sign pitched in the yard.
I despised her. I wanted to bash her skull in plenty of times. I could have done it the day she stopped by, but that wasn’t me. I was too good of a person, and at times, I considered myself a pushover. I had a backbone, but it was very fragile.
There was one day we had all to ourselves. An entire day and night since Trixie had a double shift. I got lucky, and Theo did something different. He took me to a tattoo parlor in L.A. He only trusted one person, some artist named Rob at Coast & Ink. The shop was neat. I’d never been in one before. Izzy and I always talked about getting matching tattoos but never got the chance to.
That day, I believe Theo was out of his damned mind. He got a tribal wave tattooed above his left collarbone, close to his neck. I instantly knew the meaning of it before he could explain.
“Why?” I whispered when we left the shop and met up to Ol’ Charlie in the parking lot. “Why would you do that for me?”
“Because the ocean is our place,” he murmured, his body close, his hand cupping the back of my neck. “The sea will always remind me of you.”
Ink. Dark, beautiful, permanent ink would forever remind him of me. I wanted a copy for keepsake. I’d contemplated getting something similar one day, maybe when everything wasn’t so intense. His artist was a good one, but he was very strict about his sketching. He didn’t want anyone copying his work, and he had even signed the rough draft and final sketch of Theo’s dark wave. Too bad Theo had signed a contract that clearly stated he couldn’t get the drafts or the finals. His shop had some crazy rules, but their high quality made up for it.
I begged. Theo begged, but it didn’t work. He told us the tattoo on his arm was all we needed—that he never gave his drafts or sketches away. He was just being a jackass. Theo said he’d get a copy for me—that the Blacks always got their way and Rob would regret not giving it to him the first time. It wasn’t that serious, but to see his determination was sinfully delightful.
Maybe, after all this time, this was true love, or so I thought. Trixie called his cellphone later that night while we were tangled in the sheets. And before leaving, I lay on his chest, fighting the tears begging to be shed.
There wasn’t anyone I could talk to about this other than Margie, so I filled her in on everything. She understood our situation more than I thought she would, but her only response was to try and let go. I didn’t like the advice because we were trying. It was just too damn hard.
And to make matters, well… worse, I found her kissing my dad when I came home late one night from Theo’s. It really must have been one of his good days, because he groped all of Margie’s curves, holding tight, kissing like his life depended on it. I was shocked—never saw it coming.
I didn’t interrupt though. In fact, I found it kind of cute. Apparently, Margie heard or saw me going past the bedroom because later on that night, she came into my room with one of my dad’s robes on, her cheeks flushed.
I tried so hard not to snicker as she quietly shut the door behind her. “So… um… how long?”
She blushed, her face cherry red now. “A while now, sweetie. About a week after you came home.”
“Wow,” I breathed, stunned.
She walked my way, sitting on the bed beside me. “Believe it or not, I have loved your father for over thirty years.”
My eyes expanded. “You’ve known him for that long?”
She nodded. “Back in college, I met Richard first. He was in one of my computer classes. I’d always found him handsome, but I didn’t think a guy like him would be interested in a chubby Spanish girl like me. But he was very intrigued, even agreed to come study with me every Wednesday night.” She was tickled, grinning as she focused on my carpet. Then, her face straightened. “Your mother saw him during one of our study nights. I purposely scheduled on Wednesday nights in his dorm because I didn’t want her to see him. Your mom is a… very envious person. There was one night when they were doing plumbing on Richard’s hall and the library was closed due to reconstruction. We were left with no choice but to go back to my dorm room. Well, I had no choice. He kept begging me to see it, and I didn’t want to keep telling him no. So, we got there… and Bonnie was laying right on the bed. I didn’t expect her, but just like that”—she snapped her fingers—“she stole him away from me.”
“Seriously? Why would she do that if she knew you were interested?” I was angry about that.
Margie shrugged. “Like I said, she was a very envious woman. She hated when I had something she didn’t. She swore she was my friend, but whenever I got a new pair of shoes or met a guy that really liked me, she’d either rain on my parade or do something to get the guy to notice her.”
I grimaced, not at Margie but at my mother’s behavior. “Ew, Margie, why did you even stay friends with her?”
“It wasn’t for her, sweetie. It was for Richard.”
I blinked.
“See, I had never expressed myself to Richie the way I’d always wanted to. I dreamed of telling him how I felt and then having him tell me something just as great in return—maybe even better—but I was only dreaming. Richie fell for your mother, and she stuck around because she learned he had inheritance from grandparents he’d never met, and would soon be taking over their accounting and banking business. Bonnie came from nothing, so she stuck with a man that could give her any and everything.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything to Dad?”
She chewed on her bottom lip, perplexed as she zoned out. “Because… for a few years he was happy. And by the time I had the courage, it was already too late. They were getting married. Trust me, Bonnie always knew I loved your father, which is why she tried to string me along by having me take care of him during these rough times. She knew I wouldn’t say no—she knew I would stick around because I love Richie. I care for him, and I know exactly what he needs and what he deserves. Basically, she handed me her leftovers. When I told you that your father worked hard and could hardly be there for you, that was because of Bonnie. She made him slave for her to have continual income, threatening divorce—something he didn’t want. She made him take international jobs, not giving a damn if he was around to watch you grow up. I got his letters. His calls. He was always upset with Bonnie, and from what I saw, she didn’t even care.”