Page 65 of Verses Of Us

Pain spread across his face, and she waited, blood pulsing through her ears, ringing with anticipation for what he’d say if only his arrogant pride would let him. Hope bloomed in her chest for a few seconds when he squeezed his eyes shut.

But then his mouth lifted, forming a sneer that hit her like a slap, and painfully scorched her insides. Those normally charming dimples did nothing to hide the malice in his eyes. And for the first time since he’d waltzed into her life, she feared his beautiful face.

“Sorry to disappoint you yet again, Alexis, and I can’t believe I need to repeat myself, cause you’re usually such a smart girl, but it’s nothing like that.”

He brushed past her, leaving her stunned. Then he stopped halfway across the room as if he wasn’t done. With her heart stuck in her throat, she heard him take a deep breath and waited for a kiss, a touch, an apology. Anything.

“You can see yourself out.” He went into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

Numb and consumed by immeasurable pain, everything came crashing down. Lingering rage still ravaged her insides and was all that kept the tears from spilling over.

Quietly, she picked up the rest of her things and held her head up, her neck quivering with strain. In a daze, she made it to the elevator. Then down to the underground garage. Then got in her car and drove out onto the city streets regretting not doing more, like smashing one of his guitars.

Only later, once she’d buried herself in bed with a box of Kleenex and a bottle of wine, did she release the sadness she’d been holding onto for what felt like years or rather since the first day she met Ciarán Jones.

IMPRACTICAL

Alexis

Alexisgrippedthesteeringwheel as she took the first exit off the bridge. The road home was short and so ingrained in her subconscious, she drove without having to think too much about it. Though she would have been better off not going to dinner, she needed to force herself out of bed. That morning’s argument with Ciarán still loitered heavy in her mind, keeping her company as if it were sitting in the backseat of her Honda Civic hatchback.

When she pulled up to her parents’ home, she reached behind her for the bottle of wine and bouquet of blue hydrangeas—her mother’s favourite—and walked up to the house. She was overcompensating, hoping the gifts would distract her mom from noticing the bags under her eyes or the far too obvious tears waiting to be shed.

With a deep breath, she pushed open the unlocked door. “Hello?”

Welcomed by the sound of her mother in the kitchen, cussing at her old oven and the smell of roast beef flooding her nostrils, Alexis walked in.

“There she is,” her father, Simon, exclaimed from down the hall, his green eyes cheering her up. A bit.

He didn’t falter, walking toward her, pulling his daughter into a big hug and kissing her cheek.

“And how’s my girl?” He stepped back, holding her at arm’s length, but his penetrating stare cut through her façade. “What’s the matter?”

Alexis didn’t doubt her father could see her heartbreak, but she shook it off with a chuckle.

“Nothing. Just had a long night.”

She caught her father’s doubtful expression, but was relieved when he didn’t pry.

“Are those for me?”

They both glanced back at Louise coming down the hall, a dish towel slung over her shoulder. Alexis stepped forward, handing her the bouquet and gave her a kiss.

“Nice to see you, Mom.”

“You too, baby.”

They shared an unspoken conversation. Alexis saw the questions forming in her mother’s dark eyes, but like her husband, Louise didn’t push. Instead, she took the bottle from her daughter and read the label.

“French. Good choice.”

A timer rang.

“Let’s crack that open,” Simon added as they headed toward the kitchen.

“Well, it’s about damn time. Marie never lets you lead an interview.” Louise sipped her wine, her cheeks rosy, her eyes glossy. “And with Ciarán… That’s… interesting.”

Over the rim of her glass, she watched Alexis, waiting for more information than the limited details she’d given her so far.

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