Page 15 of Pretty Ruthless

“No, but I do have a cleaning lady.” He waited just long enough for it to almost seem like he had to think about it, but this is Dawson. He loves to fuck with me, always has.

“Ohhh okay good.” I say, “I mean, that’s good because I wouldn’t want to intrude on another woman’s house, I mean-” he stops me putting a hand in the air, letting the grease stained palm face me.

“I know what you mean, no I’m not seeing anyone currently. I have seen other women, and only slept with two of them. I redid the house because it felt like every room I went into your memory hung there like stagnant air. I can put away pictures and hide away all the little things but your memory,” he taps the side of his head, “rent free.” He shrugs, “ I can't get away from it.” I know exactly what he means, I don’t know how many times I’ve thought about him. Every time I see a couple in the street or at a restaurant, I always go back to what we had.

“Since we’re being fully honest, I have dated a few guys, slept with one, I have zero friends outside of my assistant Elena, and Kennedy. I work 100 hours a week, and I would rather stay at the office than come home to an empty apartment. I have our graduation picture in my wallet and I kept every letter you ever sent me.” I smile sadly, when you say it out loud it sounds really pathetic, but it’s what I’ve created to protect myself. That's all I know anymore.

“Why work that much? Honestly, if you died tomorrow they would replace you by next week, you know that right? I apologize if that came out harsh but it’s the truth. When was the last time you took a vacation? How about a sick day? There’s a big difference between living your dream and dreaming your living. That’s not livin’ babe.” He steps up to me, pulling a wet piece of hair off my chest and placing it behind my shoulder. A shiver pushes through my entire body, reminding me that I’m soaked to the bone.

“I know,” I say, “I don’t know how to stop.”

His arms wrap around me and I settle against his chest, “you just stop. You take a week off, you stop taking every meeting, or outing or whatever. There’s more to life than the screen of your computer and whatever’s next on your calendar.”

“When did you get so wise?” I laugh, feeling the heat of his body through our wet clothes.

“Recently.” he answers matter of factly, like he’s suddenly won the lottery in the knowledge pool.

“I like it.” I tell him, pulling away slightly, “now tell me what happened after I left, with the garage and the house.” We move into the kitchen and he holds up a bottle of white wine silently offering it to me, I nod as he grabs the wine opener from the newly painted drawers.

“Where are the wine glasses?” I ask, heading toward the cabinet that the glasses used to be held.

“Not that one,” he says quickly as I grab the knob, I let it go but now my curiosity has piqued and I want to know what’s in there.

“You keeping severed body parts in the kitchen again? We talked about this.” I joke and he laughs loudly.

“No, it’s uh-” he stops, mulling over what he wants to say, “actually you know what? Fuck it. Open it up.” His cheeks turn a slight shade of pink, is that embarrassment?

“I don’t want to impose.” I say, but let's be honest, I’m dying to know what's in there now.

“Nah, it’s fine, Open it.” He lets out a long breath, like I’m about reveal a dark secret that has him tied up in knots.

My hand finds the knob again and I pull it open slowly, unsure of what I’ll find when I open the door.

My picture, actually several pictures of me, sit inside the cabinet, along with the digital camera I had in highschool and my class ring. I grab one of the printed pictures of me and inspect it, it’s a picture from the day I was named CEO of Bloom Beauty. The next is me at a beauty gala standing with one of the male models for the cologne line we had just launched. I flip through the pictures and realize he’s been keeping tabs on me for years, keeping up with what I’ve been up to since I left five years ago.

“Wow, I had no idea you were keeping tabs on me this whole time.” My heart fills with joy and sadness at the same time. He’s kept a close eye on me, watching my every move, collecting my life from afar. Is it weird or sweet?

“That’s what you do when you love someone, you celebrate their accomplishments even if you can’t celebrate with them. I’m really proud of you Claire, you did what you wanted to do and it’s pretty damn commendable.” Absolutely sweet. Not weird at all. This is amazing and I’m not sure how to handle the bubbling feelings. Emotions swell within me as he tells me how proud he is of me and I have to fight back the burning in my eyes as he tells me where he got each of the pictures.

Chapter 14

Dawson

I pour the wine in the stemless wine glass and hand it to her, her reaction to the house is exactly what I hoped it would be. It’s taken years, a shit ton of money, and blood/sweat/tears to get this place in the shape it’s now and it’s still not done but it’s good enough for me.

“Okay,” Claire says, moving into the living room. She grabs a throw pillow from the couch and holds it against her body, “tell me what happened.”

“So,” I take a sip of the wine and let it sit on my tongue for a second, I need to decide how to word this so that I don’t sound like a sad sack. “After you left I spiraled for a few weeks to be honest, I couldn’t believe how the whole thing had played out. The deed was still blank and the garage was still failing almost a month after you left. I decided to do something about it since I believed you weren’t coming back. Once that reality hit it, it was basically full steam ahead. I filed the deed but made the grantee out to you and I so in the event you ever decided to come back it would still be yours too. After the deed was filed, I went to the bank and applied for a loan. I had basically no credit so I had to put the house up as collateral. It worked out in my favor though because the house had no debt so I was able to pay off the loan for the garage and take out a small mortgage to get this place back up in running order.” I make a motion with my hand to the room we’re sitting in. “This place has great bones but it was dated, I upgraded as I could and it’s not done yet but it will be in a year or two.”

“I’m really proud of you,” she says with a smile, “but you didn’t have to give me any part of this house, I gave it to you.” Is it because she never wanted anything to do with me again, is this all a line up to be a rinse and repeat of before, I’m not sure. But After this weekend, she’ll know exactly what she means to me.

“It’s a part of you, I wanted to make sure you always had a place to come home too in the event you wanted to,” the smile on my face is sad, I can feel it. I don’t want her to think that this is a ploy to guilt trip her into staying with me, but if it helps, then count me in.

“That’s what my grandpa’s letter said, home base. I’m willing to deed my name off anytime though, please know that. You did all this work, it’s yours.” Claire’s eyes hold mine and I know she’s telling the truth. In a heartbeat she would mail me back the deed handing over this house but I don’t want the house, I want her dammit.

“Can I ask you a question?” I ask, taking another sip of my wine. She follows my motion but nods her head in agreement. “What’s your greatest accomplishment?”

“Is this an interview?” She laughs lighty. Reminding me of the girl I spent so many years with, day in and day out. Like I told her before, little flickers of the girl I used to know break through the surface of her exterior.

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