Page 52 of Faking it with my Off Limits Neighbor

Besides, if I’m honest, it wasn’t just about her relationship with her dad. Part of my decision was based on pride. I didn’t want her to know I’d been sent away like some degenerate. I wanted her to believe it had been my own decision, my own choice.

What an idiot!

And now, my pride has cost me everything I wanted. In a heartbeat, my happily ever after is over. I’ve done little over the last few days but sit here, feeling sorry for myself and nursing my broken heart.

In the beginning, a part of me hoped that Charlie might come around. That maybe her anger had waned, and she might find it in her heart to forgive me. But she has neither texted nor phoned. I’ve hardly noticed her movements, either. I’ve been too busy moping.

There’s a lost feeling, and I don’t mean about losing the relationship. I mean, I feel lost, like I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I came back here to start the restaurant. I hadn’t, in my wildest dreams, imagined that Charlie and I might get another chance. But my emotions have now swayed from one goal to the other, and somewhere in there, my aim is blurry.

The truth is, I don’t know if I can stay in Cherryville now. I wouldn’t even have considered that when I first came back. But then, Charlie Woods wasn’t nestled in my heart back then.

Sometime later, my phone rings. I don’t jump up to get it. I know who it isn’t. When I lift it and look at the caller ID, I see it’s Mom calling. Truly, I don’t think I can speak to anyone right now. I let it ring off and put the phone down.

It’s past six when there’s a knock on my door. With the energy of a slug in a puddle, I push myself out of the chair and meander to the front door. When I open it, Milly’s standing there.

“Mom wants to see you,” she says, without any greeting.

“Yes, well,” I say, turning back into the house. “I’m not in the mood to speak to anyone right now.”

I feel her grabbing my arm, and I spin around, frowning. “What the—?”

“Now, Troy. Mom and Dad want to see you now.”

“I don’t care.”

“Don’t you think you owe them this much?” Milly says adamantly. “After everything you’ve put them through, don’t they deserve an hour of your time?”

I’m about to argue with her when I realize she’s right. But then, it’s not often that my sister is wrong. When I left, Mom and Dad were devastated. While I’ve apologized a thousand times, that doesn’t change the fact that they lost their son for ten whole years. I didn’t even tell them the reason I was leaving; I just left.

“Fine,” I huff. I grab my keys off the hook and turn back to Milly.

“We’ll take my car. I’ll drop you off later,” she says, turning away and walking up the driveway.

No doubt, this is to ensure I can’t leave Mom and Dad’s until they’ve said their piece, but right now, I don’t even care. I’m going because I have to. I’ll listen to what they have to say, and then I’ll leave.

As soon as I walk into the house, Mom throws her arms around me and gives me the tightest hug. “Oh, sweetheart,” she gushes. “I’m so sorry.”

I wrap my arms around her and drink her love in. I’ll admit, this was not quite what I was expecting. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. Dad’s standing behind her, looking at me sadly. It’s only now that I realize this is some sort of intervention.

Mom has tried calling me a few times over the last couple of days. I haven’t answered. Milly’s texted me, too, and I haven’t replied to her, either. I suppose something like this was inevitable if I refused to let them know I’m all right.

We settle in the living room, where Mom’s set out sandwiches and finger foods. It all feels a little strange, but I’m too indifferent about everything to care.

“So,” Mom says, after handing me a glass of iced tea. “What’s going on?”

I shrug and avoid eye contact.

“Troy, sweetie. This isn’t like you. Please, won’t you talk to us?”

“There’s nothing much to say,” I mumble.

“We’re worried about you, son,” Dad adds. “I came to see you at the restaurant yesterday, but there was no sign of you. I couldn’t help noticing a few days’ mail lying on the mat inside.”

“I haven’t been there. There’s been a lot on my mind.”

“Meaning Charlie,” Milly deduces.

I heave a sigh, but I don’t answer. Sipping my tea, I wonder what I’m supposed to tell them. Even if I decided to talk to them, what’s the point? It’s not like they can change what’s happened.

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