Page 73 of Take Me Home

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Rob looked dumbfounded.

“I thought maybe your new girlfriend would have told you. You know, my coworker that you started dating a week after I ended things. Don’t think I didn’t notice that short recovery time.”

Rob scrubbed his hands over his face. “Yeah. I thought you might bring that up. I can explain.”

“Let me save you the trouble. I don’t care, because we’re not getting back together.”

Rob’s face turned bitter. “Oh, so now you’re only into good-looking farmhands? What do you even have in common with that guy? Or is he just some meathead you’re looking to rebound bang?”

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but we have a lot in common,” I huffed. “But don’t get hung up on him. Me not getting back with you has to do with how you made me feel.”

“Darcy, I know I messed up. I swear I can do better. I’ll spend my life doing better for you if you just give me the chance. You’re the best thing I ever had.”

I sighed heavily. “I think you should save that energy for the next person. Did you ever call that therapist I found for you?”

“If I worked on myself, would you consider trying again with me?” Rob asked hopefully.

“No, Rob. You need to work on yourself so you’re better for you.” My old sympathy for him came creeping in. He wouldn’t be groveling for me if he was doing well. “There will be someone else for you. Your family has some intense competitive dynamics. Therapy could help you.”

“You started therapy and you broke off our engagement,” Rob said miserably.

“I started therapy because I was unhappy and I couldn’t figure out why. It was you. You were undervaluing me.”

“Well, now you’ve been gone since March and I realize my mistake. I’m so sorry I made you feel less than the perfect woman you are,” he said, blue eyes looking at me earnestly. He was tugging at my heartstrings, and not in the way I’d expected. I felt sorry for him.

“No one’s perfect. Thank you for your apology,” I said stiffly.

“Why didn’t you let me help you when you got laid off? I could have helped you find a new job,” he said. “I could support you.”

“I didn’t want your help, Robbie. We weren’t together anymore. I can be independent.”

“Is working for your uncle independent?” he shot back.There he is. A leopard doesn’t change its spots.

“This is how you thought you’d win me back?” I raged. “I’ve been trying to be kind, but clearly that was a mistake. I sincerely hope you get therapy. We are done, Rob. You’ve been drinking, so I expect you to sleep it off out here and leave in the morning. If you leave now and drunk drive, I will call the police. If you aren’t gone by 9 a.m., I will call the police. What you’ve done tonight is borderline stalking anyway. I’m going in the house to get you a blanket and pillow, but you are not setting foot in this house.”

“Stalking, Darcy? Aren’t you being a little dramatic? We’re supposed to be getting married in two months!” Rob whined.

“I thought I made it clear in March that we weren’t going to be married. I do not want you showing up like this ever again. Do you understand? You could have just called me, but you chose to come here, insult me, ruin my night, and ruin my relationship with a man who actually cared about me with your self-centered drama.”

I stood to go in the house. Just before I slammed the door shut, I heard his weak, “Sorry for trying to love you.”

I let out a little scream of frustration. Rob was being completely insufferable. All the red flags and warning signs that had been dropped like breadcrumbs throughout our relationship glowed neon.

How when he proposed to me, he did it in front of his family, but not mine. I’d written it off that my parents were in Italy, but he easily could have invited an auntie or some cousins. He knew I’d be more likely to save face and say yes in front of his own family though. Manipulation at its finest.

How when he went with me to Italy to visit my parents, he made snide remarks about my career. He always picked up the tab and impressed my parents with his extensive wine knowledge, but my mom saw through it one night. He really rubbed in that it was a good thing he had a “real” job so he could always take care of me. Like my creative job, well-paying as it was, wasn’t “real.”

How he’d pressured me about my appearance. That one was enough to make me sick to my stomach. I considered myself a strong woman, or at least I was before Rob. How had I let a weak-minded man control me like that?

Nothing was ever enough for Rob. I suspect that he was never enough for himself, and I was just the scapegoat. But I didn’t have to stick around and put up with it, either.

When I handed him a blanket and pillow from the couch, he lifted his head from between his knees.

“I’m sorry, Darcy,” he said quietly.

“Get some rest. Have a safe trip home. I hope things get better for you,” I said, squeezing his shoulder. I hoped a pleasant farewell would be enough to set him straight on ever doing this again.

“I hope he makes you happy,” Rob said, looking up at me. I couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or trying to start a new fight.

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