Page 55 of Between the Flames

CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE

When I finally pulled myself out of my own head, I decided that what I needed was a bottle of wine, some chocolate, and a hot bubble bath. I moved into the kitchen and opened the pantry, checking on my chocolate stash. Keeping a variety of chocolate and wine in the house was essential because, well, when is having chocolate and wine ever a bad thing? The chocolate was plentiful, but when I opened the refrigerator to pull out the bottle of pink Moscato that was chilling, it wasn’t there. I stared into the cool abyss of the refrigerator, trying to remember when I had opened and drank the bottle, before remembering that Rosie had stopped by two nights ago and we shared it while sitting in the cozy patio chairs outside. Glaring at the refrigerator like my lack of wine was its fault, I slammed the door closed. Quickly I assessed my clothing—black yoga pants and an oversized, off the shoulder sweatshirt—and decided that was a good enough outfit for a quick jaunt to the grocery store down the street. I grabbed my keys, purse, and cell phone before locking up behind me.

I knew better than to grab a shopping cart when I entered the grocery store, so I opted for a hand-basket. Making my way to the aisle which housed the wine, my eyes wandered over the labels until I spotted the sweet wines. From there, I quickly found my favorite brand and pulled two bottles from the shelf. Looking down at the bottles in my basket, I impulsively pulled a third from the shelf and placed it beside the two. Satisfied, I headed to the check-out stands, keeping my head down so that I wouldn’t get distracted by all the tasty treats and end up with a mountain of groceries. I had one mission. Buy the wine, and that was it.

The woman at the check-out stand smiled maternally as she scanned the wine bottles and placed them into my reusable shopping tote.

“Rough day?” she asked, her voice sweet but raspy, sounding like she had been a smoker at one point in her life. I smiled back at her. She reminded me of my great aunt Janet.

“Rough couple of weeks.”

“Been there honey, don’t worry, it’ll get better. Take these home and go relax in a bubble bath.”

I threw my head back in laughter, beaming at the woman. Just in this short exchange, she was lightening my mood.

“How did you know that’s exactly what I was going to do?”

Her eyes glinted with wisdom. “You think I don’t know what frustration over a man looks like, sweet girl? Let me tell you a little something about men. If they’re worth it, they’re worth it. If they’re not, run far and fast.” She squinted and leaned forward slightly. I couldn’t help but to follow suit and lean forward as well. “Is he worth it?”

I pursed my lips at her question, arms crossing over my chest. My face suddenly felt warm. I looked at her and bobbed my head in a nod. “Yeah, I think he’s definitely worth it.”

She handed me my receipt, her boney fingers overlapping mine as I reached to take it from her.

“Then make him work for it, baby doll.”

I wrinkled my nose, laughter cascading from my lips once more. I shook my head, saying nothing as I grabbed my bag, cradling it from the bottom.

“You have a nice day, sugar.”

“Thank you, ma’am. You too.”

* * *

The drive homewas quick and my wine sat shotgun as I belted out the lyrics to Lesley Gore’s “You Don’t Own Me,” the music inspiring a little self-confidence. My decision to talk to Ryder and make him “work for it” solidified. I would talk to him tomorrow, but tonight was all about self-care—I had a date with myself and I intended on enjoying it to the fullest.

Approaching the four-way stop just before turning onto my street, I looked to the left to check for cars, before looking to the right. As soon as my head snapped in the direction of my house, the butterflies started swimming in my gut and my pulse quickened.

Ryder’s truck was parked on the street.

I glanced at the clock on my dashboard, seeing that it was only a little after four in the afternoon.

He shouldn’t even be off work right now, so why was he here?

Panic overtook my body as I sat idly at the stop sign. I wasn’t ready to talk to him, not yet, not before I mentally hyped myself up for a potential argument, or worse, flat-out rejection. I couldn’t do this, not now. The driver behind me tapped his horn in encouragement to go, pulling me out of my trance.

Instead of turning right, I turned left and continued driving away from my house. I had nowhere to go other than home, so I needed to think fast.

What would Rosie do? I channeled my inner baddie, my inner Rosie, and slowed my car, hanging a U-turn in the middle of the street before slowing to a stop in front of a random house. Throwing the car in park, I killed the engine and sat in the silent car with only the sound of my rapidly beating heart to distract me. My eyes strained while I stared ahead at Ryder’s truck, taking note of his head moving from within the cab.

He was sitting in his truck. Was he watching my house?

He obviously knew I wasn’t there, so I could safely assume he was waiting for me to come back.

Well, I had news for him! I wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon.

At least, not while he was there.

The angel and devil who loved to sit on my shoulders bickered for a while, my thoughts drifting between uncertainty and defiance. Maybe I should head over there and just hear him out. Listen to what he wanted to say. The angel pushed me to do just that, but the devil, oh that pesky little B, she dug her stiletto into my shoulder and forced me to stay put. I sighed, clicking the side button on my phone to check the time, realizing I had been sitting here for over twenty-five minutes. I was growing bored.

My eyes flicked over to the wine next to me and I quickly made a pros and cons list in my mind. Pros won, and I reached over to pluck a bottle from the grocery bag. Thank goodness I drink the cheap stuff and it had a twist top.

For two hours, I sat in my car watching Ryder watch for me, and drank wine straight from the bottle.

I had hit a new low. Slamming my forehead against the steering wheel in defeat, I winced, re-bruising the bruise that had barely healed from the last time. Keeping my head pushed against the steering wheel, I squeezed my eyes shut and once again debated with myself about just going home and facing Ryder tonight. I had polished off the bottle, so maybe with a little liquid courage, it wouldn’t be so bad. We needed to work through this or say our goodbyes, but it was the goodbye part that had my stomach rolling and nerves increasing. I swallowed hard, my head lifting from the steering wheel, decision made to just rip the Band-Aid and go talk to him, but when my eyes came back into focus, Ryder was gone.

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