Page 139 of The One I Hate
“Yes. It was me.”
“And the up-to-date kitchen equipment that I was curious as to why Mona would upgrade when she was selling?”
“I replaced them before you got here.”
“Oh my God!” She yells, now popping back up. “You got me the ice machine. And fixed the ceiling! Didn’t you?”
“Well, Emmett did those things…”
“Quit with the fucking technicalities, Simon. Oh my God! The mushroom guy! Are you why I suddenly have mushrooms again?”
I nod, but hang my head in the process in shame. “It was just easier if I went and picked them up for you.”
“Fucking Christ!” She falls back on the couch, almost in a defeated way. “So here’s me, thinking I walked into my dream. That my hard work and blood and sweat and tears and slaving away with grunt work for God knows how long, that this was me being rewarded. But the whole time, it wasn’t my hard work or luck or good fortune, it was you playing the fucking puppet master.”
“No!”
“Quit lying Simon! It was you! Everything was you!”
“Fine!” I yell, finally snapping. “Yes, it was me. I made sure you got your restaurant. I told Emmett to cancel every other showing and to rent it to you for a penny if he wanted to.”
“Why would you do that? Do you hear how insane that sounds?”
“Yes, I do, and it was insane, but that’s what you were making me!”
This seems to take her aback.
“Me? Making you insane? I’d love to hear this…”
I know she’s pissed at me, and she has every reason. But I had, and still have, my reasons for what I did. And she needs to know them.
“I did it because I needed you here. I needed to make sure you wouldn’t run again.”
She stops whatever it was she was about to say. “Keep me here?”
“Yes,” I try to even my tone, but I don’t know if it’s working. “After fifteen years you were back in my life. And I needed answers. I needed you to talk to me, but you wouldn’t. I was going crazy, and I didn’t know how else to make that happen.”
“So you bought me a fucking restaurant?”
“Technically I rented it to you.”
Charlie’s eyes are daggers right now. “You’re the reason why I thought there was a problem with my checks? Did you not cash them?”
I nod. “Not at first. But then I did. But I haven’t spent a dime of it. I promise.”
She huffs out a laugh. “That’s even worse! Making me think I was doing this all on my own. Especially when you know how much I hate handouts.”
I take a few steps closer to her. “Charlie, I know you’re pissed, and rightfully so, but you have to listen to me. You were back in my life. Not once, but twice. And both times you ran. You left before I could get the answers I needed. The answers that had been driving me crazy for more than a decade. I was manic. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“How about a conversation?” She says. “How about, ‘Hey Charlie. Let’s talk.’”
“Would you have?” I ask. “Because I seem to remember me doing that, and you slamming a door in my face. Or leaving before the sun came up.”
She doesn’t respond. She knows I’m right. At least about that. The anger in her eyes says as much.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I begin, grabbing her hand and bringing her to sit next to me on the couch. “I know I should’ve told you when we first got together. And I’m sorry if you feel like this is charity, because I didn’t mean it to come off like that. That I am sorry for. But I’m not sorry for what I did.”
She rips her hand from mine. “Excuse me?”
