Page 87 of His to Cherish

Chapter 18

Chelsea

The mood was somber as I sat in Camden’s living room along with Suzanne, Paige, and Blue. Trina was working at Fireside Grill with Declan and couldn’t make it. In my selfishness, I was sort of happy. Trina and Declan were good friends with Aidan. She had become friends with Aidan when she’d first met Declan. I wanted to wallow in my self-made misery without it getting back to Trina, or Aidan and Declan through her.

This was the first month in a year that we hadn’t met at Fireside, and it was entirely my fault because I’d refused to return to a place where Aidan’s friends worked.

The night I’d left Aidan’s house a week ago, he hadn’t come after me.

Which I hadn’t actually expected, considering he had just dealt a massive blow to his ex and he’d probably had to explain everything. I didn’t envy him for that. My heart ached and tightened inside my chest every day I thought about him, and wondered how that conversation had gone, along with how he had fared, having to relive it to someone out loud.

He had shown up at my house on the third day and I’d refused to answer my door even though he knew I was home, knew it because my lights were on, and he’d stood pounding at my door for a good forty-five minutes before he finally left.

My phone had been inundated with texts ever since, begging me for a chance to let him explain.

I wasn’t brave enough to allow him that chance yet.

Would I ever be? Every time I closed my eyes, those two damn words rattled inside my brain.Nobody important.

I still couldn’t believe he’d said it. I couldn’t believe that, even if he had a valid explanation for saying those two words, I meant so little to him that they could easily roll off his lips.

No. There was nothing he could say that would make it better…nothing he could say that would make the sting of that rejection, so blatantly declared in front of me, something I could overlook or forget.

They were almost as painful as the words Cory had spit at me the night he’d left me, calling me worthless.

You can’t even have kids, and I want a whole woman, not a half of one. Being married to you is pointless.

Why did I always have to be the strong one? The person whom everyone else leaned on? It had put me in a position to be available for that kind of verbal venom from Aidan, and I was tired of it. It wasn’t the first time he’d blatantly hurt me. And if I had learned anything from my past, it was my father’s sage advice that a zebra never changed its stripes.

No, Aidan was incredible in many ways, but he’d scratched too deep. Intentionally. He’d exposed my scars and I was dealing with the lingering pain all over again. I couldn’t do that and be there for him, waiting for another attack. He was hurting, I knew it. I could even sympathize with it. But I could no longer be theanythingI’d once promised him. I deserved more than to be a punching bag when shit got tough.

After Aidan had finally left my house that night, I packed a bag, and after work the next day, showed up on Camden’s doorstep with my suitcase in hand and tears in my eyes.

I hadn’t left her house since except to go to work and go straight back there.

Thankfully, she had an insane amount of alcohol in her house. Along one wall in her basement, Camden had a wall of refrigerators that could rival our neighborhood liquor store. She kept it stocked with wine and beer from all over the world just because she enjoyed trying new things.

I’d been indulging frequently.

It was the perfect place to mope. And hide.

I wasn’t oblivious to the fact that, at some point, Aidan and I would have to confront what happened. We had too many mutual friends to ignore each other forever. At the moment, however, my current method of avoidance coupled with heavy dosages of French and Argentine wines was working for me.

Aidan texted every day asking for a chance to explain, asking to talk to me when I was ready, yet I could tell he was also becoming impatient. At some point, the man I came to love would stop letting me hide from him.

But until that happened, I preferred the solace of Camden’s house with my friends, sitting around drinking margaritas from a bucket mix from Costco instead of Fireside.

Though I was so tired of their shifty-eyed looks, as if they no longer knew what to say to me.

They’d made their opinions clear.

Give him a chance.

Run.

Hear him out.

Asshole.

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