I don’t even bother trying to explain myself, instead, we drive home from the car dealership in silence. Lauren even turns the radio off.
When I slow the truck to wait for the gates to open, Lauren opens her door.
“I’m gonna go for a walk, I’ll be back in a little bit,” she mumbles without looking at me.
“Ren,” I call out, but she slams the door shut and walks away.
I don’t chase her. What am I going to say when I catch up to her? I need to let her calm down, then come to me when she’s ready to talk, so I sit and watch in my rear-view mirror as she crosses the road to the beach and heads straight out onto the sand. The rain that was falling earlier has eased off, but storm clouds are rolling in from across the bay, and the wind has picked up.
My gut’s in knots when I pull up outside our house. I’m fucked off, but I’m not sure who with. My dad didn’t send me into that dealership knowing Alysa worked there. My dad probably wouldn’t even know who Alysa is. My dad wasn’t the one who went to the bar where Alysa works after leaving the woman he’s supposed to love on what was probably, one of the worst nights of her life. My dad wasn’t the one who then failed to mention where he went that night to the woman he loves. My dad didn’t, but I fucking did, and now I don’t know what to do with the anger boiling inside me at being such a fucking idiot.
I don’t want to go inside without her, back to the quiet and the loneliness I was talking to my dad about just yesterday.
Using the screen on the dash, I call my brother.
“Wank Stain, you missing me already?”
“Did you know Alysa Hawkins is working at the Land Rover dealership?”
“Why the fuck would I be aware of that information? Why? What’s wrong?”
I remain silent and try to get a hold of the rage inside me. I’m gripping my steering wheel so tightly, there’s a chance it might break. Relaxing my fingers, I flex them open and closed.
“You wouldn’t,” I say quietly.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” Coop asks.
“Just the same ol’, same ol’. I fucked up.” When he doesn’t respond, I continue to explain. “I didn’t tell Ren where I went that night . . .”
“Fuck me, Gabe . . .”
“I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t even think about it at first, and then when I did, she was already a fucking mess, and I just didn’t wanna make things worse.”
“So you said nothing,” it’s a statement, not a question.
“I didn’t plan on never telling her, it just hasn’t come up since, and we’ve been good. After all the shit we’ve been through, we finally had a good few days, a good week . . .” I trail off.
“So, what happened?”
“Lyss opened her mouth about me looking better than I did the other night.”
“Fuck. Does Ren know what other night she was talking about?”
“Not yet, but she’s far from fucking stupid, she’ll either work it out, or I’m gonna have to tell her.” “Which you should’ve done straight after it happened.”
“I’m aware. I don’t need another fucking lecture. I started to explain at the showroom, but she didn’t want to talk, and didn’t want to listen, giving me no fucking chance to explain.” I blow out a long, frustrated sigh at my own stupidity.
“I know I’ve fucked up, but she didn’t talk all the way home, wouldn’t even look at me, and now she’s over the road at the beach, staring out at the water looking like some actress in a dramatic scene from a chick flick.”
My brother chuckles down the phone, but I’m not finding anything funny right now.
“Mate, sheisa chick, they like a little bit of the dramatic. Think like the bloke in the chick flick would, go over there and get your woman, make her listen to your explanation, beg for forgiveness, on bended knees if you have to, then kiss her face off.”
“I think she’s too angry to listen right now.”
“Then sit it out and wait for her to come to you. Just make sure you learn from this though, one way or another, she was gonna find out. Theyalwaysfind out, and it’s much less painful in the long run if they hear it from you.”
“Thanks,” I mumble like a sulky child.