CHAPTER 22

 

 

Besides taking trips to the bathroom, I really didn’t have a need to come out of my bedroom. I’d been basically hiding in here since Stacey left earlier today, just sitting on the bed watching TV. I even called Darnell. I had a sudden urge to discuss a wedding date with him, but as usual, he didn’t answer his phone.

Now, I’m looking through my old nightstand drawer again. I find a picture of me and Wyatt at homecoming. I don’t even remember who took this picture or why they took it. All I know is, Wyatt is looking at me with heat and desire in his eyes. And I believe what he said at dinner yesterday – that he wanted to spend his life with me, but outside influences, also known as his mother, kept us apart.

I pick up my diary next. I reread the entry that Stacey read aloud to me yesterday, then I flip to the last entry I wrote. It was the morning after prom:

 

I’m floating on cloud nine. I can’t believe Wyatt asked me to marry him. I feel like it’s a dream. Going to prom with him, feeling his arms around me, then he asked me to marry him. I’m so excited to become Mrs. Geneva McDowell because he makes me happy and I love him so much that I can’t find the words to describe the way I feel. I wish mom could see how happy I am. How much I’ve grown up. Even though she’s not here, I know she’ll be proud of me.

_____

 

I sigh heavily, drop the book in the drawer and rub my eyes. Then I hold out my left hand to look at the ring on my finger – the ring Darnell gave me. I know I need to be loyal to him, even though that means shutting Wyatt out. Again.

I get up from the bed to walk to the kitchen for a bottle of water and...speaking of Wyatt...he’s standing in front of the island, leaning up against it, like he was expecting me.

“Did you eat?” he asks me.

“Not hungry,” I say. I don’t mean to be rude or short with him, but I know that’s how it comes across. It’s my way of distancing myself from him. I have to be responsible and accountable for my actions. After all, I hurt him once. Broke his heart, he said. I don’t want to do it all over again. Once a ceramic vase shatters, you can try to glue it back together, but it would never be the same. And if the repaired vase ever falls and breaks again, there is no more fixing to it. It’s done. I don’t want to break his heart again. I don’t want him to be done with love. There’s someone for everyone and his somebody is out there. Somewhere. Maybe his mother can find a nice, bleach blonde Barbie-doll-looking pin-up broad that he can love and have some adorable, blue-eyed babies with.

“Why did Stacey leave?” he asks. His eyes follow my every move.

I take a bottle of water from the refrigerator and say, “Her husband has to go out of town tonight and she’s going with him, so...she had to go.”

I quickly walk away, trying not to look at him. I see him but I’m not looking at him. I’m focusing on getting back to my room, locking the door behind me and forgetting that we made out in the loft this morning.

Before I can get out of the kitchen, though, he says, “So are we back to pretending?”

I stop in my tracks and look at him. “No. We’re not.”

“Then why the cold shoulder all of a sudden, Geneva?”

“Because I have a fiancé who’s counting on me.”

Frustrated, he throws hands behind his head and says, “Really, because last I checked, you have a husband, too.”

“Only because we’re not divorced yet. That’s a paperwork issue. It’s been ten years Wyatt. Ten years we’ve spent apart, living our own, individual lives. You’re fooling yourself if you think that after an entire freakin’ decade, every feeling, every emotion, anything you’ve ever felt for me is still very much alive in your heart. You’re fooling yourself.”

“No!” he snaps. “You’re fooling yourself if you think there is a man on this planet that can love you more than I do! But I get it...our little paperwork issue is preventing you from marrying Darnell, because God knows you just have to marry Darnell since he’s so awesome and all.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know enough about him to know that he’s not good enough for you. That he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Again, you don’t know him.”

“Well, let me tell you what I do know...I know he hasn’t been here. I know he doesn’t call you to check on you...make sure you’re fine. Make sure you’re not depressed and sad over your father’s passing.”

“That’s only because I told him everything my father put me through!”

“And yet he’s not here...he’s not here to support you...to take care of you.”

“I don’t need him to be here right now. He’ll be here Saturday.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Either way it goes, it’s not like my father gave a rat’s behind about how I felt about anything, so I really don’t need to have a special ceremony for him anyway. I have good mind to take that urn to the landfill and toss it in with the rest of the garbage there.”

“Wow. I can’t believe you would say something like that. Where’s your respect?”

“Respect? You were there! You saw the things he made me do. I was his slave. I cooked, cleaned, mopped floors, cut grass, washed clothes...I did everything for that man! And I still had to beg him for money to buy things I needed. All the nights I spent dodging him. All the bad dreams, sleeping in the stable in the cold...he made me hate him.”

“I could say the same thing about you.”

“What? That I made you hate me? Say it. Say it, Wyatt,” I say, fuming. “Because I don’t care what you think of me.”

He grimaces, rubs his fingers through his hair and turns away from me. And then, like the calm before a storm, he says evenly, “I won’t say it, because I respect you, but I won’t be made a fool of twice. I’ll get some divorce papers drawn up immediately. In the meantime, I’m going to gather my things and get out of this house. I’ll let Mr. Price know that you’re still here so hopefully, that won’t prevent you from getting your inheritance. After all, that is the only reason you came here, right?”

I watch him leave the kitchen and then I hear him ascending the stairs. I’m still standing in the kitchen, feeling lightheaded. Before I completely lose it, I head upstairs for my bedroom.

In my bedroom, I close the door, lock it then sit on the bed, burying my face in my hands. I hear Wyatt in the room next door, moving swiftly to gather his things. This morning, we were laughing together. Kissing each other. Now, we’re at odds. He’s packing, and once he’s gone, I’ll be in this house all alone.

What will I do here alone? Stare at the walls and have recurring nightmares? I want to pack up my suitcase and head back to home to Atlanta, but I won’t. I also want to apologize to Wyatt, beg him to stay and finish what we started this morning, but I can’t. I came here for my inheritance and I intend on leaving with it.