Page 14 of Losing a Piece of Me

She turns back to me. Her eyes are wide like a deer in the headlights. “Yeah, I’m getting married.”

The remaining pieces of my heart crumble at this. I swallow down the emotions bubbling up: love, anger, resentment, and everything in between. I push it all down and manage to grit out a weak, “Congratulations.”

I turn away from her for the first time and face the grill. Brett is still frozen, all he can do is glance from me to Lex, and then to Gemma.

“Are we going to get this grill fired up so we can start on the roof or not?” I ask before emptying the rest of my beer.

He jumps, realizing that the show is over. “Yeah.” He springs into action, lighting the grill.

“I’m going to grab another beer, you want one?”

“Fuck yeah, I can’t deal with all this going on.”

I smile and shake my head as I walk back into the house.

* * *

Brett does all the work on the roof while I sit back and watch Lex. She has no idea I am watching, and I finally get a chance to see her with her guard down. Her conversation with Gemma is easy and relaxed - she smiles and nods along with whatever Gemma is saying.

I watch the way she moves, full of grace and purpose. She reaches out, picking up her glass and taking a sip.

Even such a simple action stirs my emotions into a frenzy.

“Hand me the hammer,” Brett says, emphasizing his words with a smack to the back of my head.

I pass him the hammer and bring my eyes back to her. “I can’t fucking believe she’s getting married.” I shake my head and look at him.

He grins. “She ain’t fucking getting married. She’s here because her sister is getting married, you dumbass.”

I flex my jaw as anger and relief wash over me. “Her sister is the one getting married?”

“Yeah, she just side-stepped your ass.” He laughs before giving me the hammer back. “All done. Let’s get down from here.”

As soon as she sees me climbing down the ladder, her wall is back up. The easygoing mannerisms I saw from the roof are gone. She’s turned to stone, but she tries to keep her eyes from me. She doesn’t want to be rude and leave because of me, but she doesn’t want to have to talk around me, or even look at me again.

It becomes clear to me: I need to face this situation head-on. I take a seat directly across the table from her, prop my feet up on the empty chair, and bring my bottle to my lips. I take a long drink before I look at her.

Her full chest is rising and falling quickly, she looks nervous and tries looking anywhere but at me.

“So who’s the guy?” I ask.

“The guy?” She stares into me and I lift a brow. “Oh, the guy!” She shakes her head. “Just someone I met a couple years ago.” She waves her hand in front of her face like it doesn’t matter.

I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “Does he have a name?”

“Jeff,” she answers a little too quickly.

I nod along. “Jeff, huh? What’s he do? Do you two live together?”

She looks from me to Gemma and back.

No one can answer this one for you, sweetheart.

“Um, no. We don’t live together yet. He’s in the restaurant business.”

A small laugh slips from my lips. “Like a waiter?”

She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin just a bit. “No, like he owns the restaurant.” Her tone is harsh, she wants me to believe that she’s mad. She’s not. She forgets that I know her better than anyone else. Someone else may back off when they hear that tone, but I don’t.

---