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THE SOFT CHIME OF THE doorbell echoed through the workshop as I walked in after my trip to Albany. Dad looked up from his workbench and smiled.
“Hey, kiddo,” he greeted, wiping his hands on an old rag. “I wasn’t expecting you to come back tonight.”
I offered a tired smile. “I thought I would cook dinner for us. You’ve been working late, and with this project, I have not been keeping very good tabs on you. You need a good, home-cooked meal.”
He chuckled. “Well, I appreciate that.”
“I’ll be upstairs. Don’t stay down here too late.”
“Alright.”
I walked into the kitchen and tied my apron around my waist. I got busy cooking the grilled chicken and brown rice meal. I knew my dad had not been eating right.
I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs just as I was prepping his plate. We sat down at the small table and started to eat. I was hoping he wouldn’t look directly at me. I knew he was going to ask why I was at his house. No matter what I told him, he was going to know better.
“Why aren’t you up at the manor?” he finally asked, his tone gentle but laced with concern.
I hesitated, debating how much of the truth I should tell him. I didn’t dare tell him I let myself fall for someone who wasn’t available.
“I’ll be going up in the morning,” I told him. “I was thinking about staying here tonight if that’s okay?”
“You know it is,” he said.
I pasted on a bright smile. “Amber’s taking over at the manor,” I told him. “She needs all of us out of the way so she can do her thing.”
“I bet it’s going to look good,” he said, smiling.
“It does,” I said, nodding. “I can’t wait to see the finished product. I’m ready to get back to my normal life, though. I need to call my landlord and see how the remediation is coming along.”
The decision to distance myself from Gloriana Manor felt like a necessary step. I needed to get back to my regular life. Timothy was not going to be mine. It would be easier to move on if I didn’t have to see him. The bulk of the work was done and there was no reason for me to go back. Sex with Timothy had been a mistake.
“Speaking of your living arrangements, I have something for you. A surprise.”
“A surprise?”
He chuckled and got up from the table. He handed me an envelope. I opened it and froze as I stared at the real estate listing for a house.
“Dad, what’s this?”
“It’s your dream house.”
“Really, Dad? A house?” I stammered, the unexpectedness of the gesture catching me off guard.
“It’s a fresh start for you, Catherine,” he explained, excitement lacing his words. “A place you can turn into your own, away from the complications up at that manor.”
“How?” I asked. “You can’t afford this. You should take it. You deserve to live in a house instead of this tiny apartment.”
He shook his head. “No, no,” he protested, waving off my concerns with a hearty laugh. “It’s my surprise to you. I want you to have it. I don’t need or want a house. It’s too much work. I like the simplicity of my apartment. No yard work.”
“But, Dad.”
“No arguments,” he insisted, a hint of sternness edging his voice now. “You’ve done more than enough for others, Catherine. You deserve this.”
Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes as I looked down at the listing once more, finally allowing myself to hope.
“Thank you,” I said softly, reaching out to squeeze his hand across the table. “This is amazing.”
“I can’t wait to see what you do with it. It’s going to be a work of art.”
I forced a smile. “I hope so.”
Gloriana Manor was my dream home but it wasn’t mine. It would never be mine. I couldn’t even think about going to the house without wanting to crawl into a hole. It was all because of the man that owned the damn place. He ruined it for me. He didn’t just own the house I loved. He owned my heart.
After dinner, I cleaned up while my dad retired to his chair. It wasn’t long before he passed out. I went downstairs to the shop to dig into the treasures I picked up for Gloriana Manor.
I appreciated the quiet shop. It was what I needed after such a shitty day. I sorted through the antique fixtures imagining them installed at Gloriana Manor. They were going to be perfect in his house. I loved that they were from the time period.
Suddenly, the quiet was shattered by the unmistakable sound of a car pulling up. It was way after hours. I got up and peeked out the window. A man stepped out of the car. When I recognized Scott, a knot tightened in my stomach. He saw me in the window, ruining my chances of hiding and pretending I wasn’t there.
“Shit,” I muttered.
He knocked on the door. I opened it, dreading whatever it was he had to say. “Scott.”
“Catie,” he drawled, the familiar nickname grating on my nerves. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. About us.”
My eyes narrowed. “There is no us. I don’t know why you drove all the way out here.”
“You can’t just dismiss everything we had, Catie. Seeing you at the wedding made me realize what a mistake I made. You know you love me. I saw the look on your face when you saw me. I felt the same way. Everyone there saw it. When you have a love like ours, you can’t hide it. I know you don’t love that man you brought along. I’m sorry you had to see me marry another woman, but I’ll leave her for you.”
“Scott, I don’t love you.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, meeting his pleading eyes with a forceful hardness. “But you’re wrong. What we had is over. You made sure of that.”
His face crumpled, as though I’d physically wounded him. “Catie.”
“Don’t.” I stepped back to close the door between us. But he stopped it with his hand. He pushed it open wider and walked in.
“We can start again, Catie,” he insisted. “I made a mistake. I was young and stupid. I didn’t realize what I had until it was gone.”
“You had a whole other relationship with another woman for over a year while we were together, Scott. You didn’t love me.”
“We were going through a rough patch,” he tried to argue, but I shook my head, cutting him off before he could continue.
“No, Scott. A rough patch is an argument, a miscommunication, a misunderstanding. A rough patch is not you sleeping with another woman for over a year behind my back. That’s not a rough patch. That’s betrayal.”
“I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “And I’ll regret it every day for the rest of my life.”
“That’s your burden to bear,” I told him coldly. “Not mine.”
He opened his mouth and I just knew he was going to start rambling on about loving me. It was all bullshit. This was the same crap he pulled when we were together.
“That’s enough,” I snapped, my voice cold. “You have a wife waiting for you at home, Scott. You should go to her.”
His eyes flashed with something akin to anger, but I didn’t flinch. This was the man who thought he could play with my heart and then just waltz back into my life as if he hadn’t broken it into a million pieces.
“But, Catie.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
I interrupted him one last time. “No, Scott. This isn’t about us anymore. This is about a commitment you made to another woman. You can’t just decide you’re tired of her and come running back to me. I’m not going to be the other woman. I’m better than that. And for the love of all things holy, please stop calling me Catie. I hated it then and I especially hate it now.”
His eyes flashed with anger. The sorry act disappeared in a flash. “You brought that man to my wedding just to spite me. You always had to have your way. You thought you were going to ruin my wedding!”
“You invited me!” I shot back. “I didn’t ask to come! You wanted to rub it in my face.”
“You are such a bitch,” he hissed.
“Maybe I am,” I said calmly, shaking my head. “Maybe I had to become a bitch to survive you, Scott. You didn’t ruin me with your lies or your cheating. You only made me stronger.”
“I cheated on you because you’re a cold fish! Fucking you was like a prison sentence!” He stepped toward me.
“Get away from me,” I warned.
He laughed, a cruel mocking sound that echoed through the shop. “Or else what, Catie?”
“Or else you’ll regret it,” I said in a voice colder than Antarctica. “I’m no longer the weak girl you knew, Scott.”
“Oh really?” His sneer had me itching to slap it off his face.
“Yes, really,” I said, meeting his eyes with determination.
For a moment, he just stared at me in silence. Then he took another step forward.
“Scott,” I warned again, my voice steady despite the fear coiling in my stomach.
He ignored me and kept moving closer until he was standing nose to nose. “You were never good enough for me,” he hissed. “You don’t even know how to be a woman. You don’t turn anyone on. Taking you to bed is a chore.”
“Great! Because you’ll never be taking me to bed!”
He hurled more insults and accusations my way. The atmosphere grew tense, and in a fit of rage, he grabbed one of the antique fixtures I had just acquired and hurled it across the shop. It crashed against the wall, shattering into pieces. I cried out in shock and horror.
“Get out!” I screamed.
He paused, his face contorted in rage. Then, he grabbed me by the arm, his grip like a vise. “Make me,” he sneered, pulling me closer.
I didn’t even have time to think. I slapped him across the face as hard as I could. The sound reverberated through the silence like a gunshot. He let go of me instantly, his hand flying to his cheek, which was already starting to redden.
“You bitch!”
“Get out, Scott!” I roared, pointing at the door. “Get out of my shop!”
“What the hell is going on here?” Timothy snarled, walking toward us with a fire in his eyes.
He positioned himself between Scott and me.
“I asked what the hell is going on here?” Timothy demanded, his voice cold and authoritative.
Scott, now fuming with anger, directed his fury toward Timothy. “Who the hell are you?”
Ignoring Scott’s question, Timothy glanced over his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, a mixture of relief and frustration. “I told him to leave, but he won’t listen.”
Out of nowhere, Scott threw a punch at Timothy.
Timothy was quick on his feet and easily sidestepped the attack. “You’ve got one chance to walk out that door, Scott. I suggest you take it.”
Scott balled his fists and made to lunge again but Timothy was quicker. With a swift and well-aimed punch right to Scott’s gut, he had him doubled over, gasping for breath.
“It appears you’ve made your choice.”
“Enough!” I shouted out, stepping between the two men.
Scott attempted to tackle Timothy through me. But Timothy was ready, and as Scott charged, he deftly side-stepped, extending his arm to direct Scott’s momentum right into a stack of wood. Scott landed with a thud.
“Damn you!” Scott roared, clutching his side as he struggled to rise. His face was a mask of rage and humiliation.
“Enough, Scott,” I repeated, standing my ground despite the tremors of fear making my legs feel like jelly. “You need to leave.”
The fight was interrupted when my dad walked into the shop. “That’s enough,” he roared. “Catherine, go upstairs.”
I walked to the stairs, catching sight of Timothy dragging Scott outside.
“If I ever see you around Catherine again, I will make you disappear,” Timothy hissed. “Do not test me.”
He pushed Scott out the door and slammed it shut behind him. A minute later I heard Scott’s tires peeling away.
Timothy turned and looked at me and Dad. He nodded once and walked out of the shop without saying a word. It was the weirdest moment of my life.
Dad looked up at me. “Well, I guess he’s not that bad,” he said.
“Dad!”
“Come on, let’s go to bed. We’ll clean this up tomorrow.”
I was in shock. I couldn’t believe what happened. It was over before it started. As I climbed the stairs, I couldn’t help but wonder what had brought Timothy here. I wondered what would have happened if Timothy hadn’t arrived when he did.
“Why did he come here?” I mumbled, more to myself than to my dad.
“I don’t know, sweetheart. But it seems he’s not one to stand idly by when you’re in trouble. I take it Scott was raising hell?”
“Yes,” I said, nodding. “I have no idea what he was going on about.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t down there earlier,” he said. “I have to say I’m glad Timothy showed up when he did.”
“Me too,” I murmured.
With Dad in bed and me stretched out on the couch, I had to wonder why Timothy always walked away without saying a word. It was a really bad habit.
