Page 108 of Working for the Mob

“You’re the one who did this, Art. You can’t have it both ways,” she’s sad. “Now get your goddamn foot out of the way.”

“Genevieve, I …”

Footsteps from the back of the house froze me in place, and Lucy stepped behind her sister. Another knife of shame drove through my gut. I didn’t want Lucy now.

“Is that Art? Does he like the pastries? I made his favorite: eclairs,” Lucy said.

“He was just leaving,” Genevieve’s cold voice said, and I took her hint this time. I didn’t want to be in the same room with two angry sisters.

I nodded to both of them and turned back down the sidewalk. The slam of the door punctuated the self-loathing that strangled my insides.

Chapter 33 – Genevieve

“Are you not going to breakfast?” Lucy asked.

I turned to face her lighthearted eyes and I choked back the tears pushing their way out. “He just had something come up at work.”

I bit my lips to hold everything in and brushed past her to my bedroom. I was careful to not slam the door to tip her off.

I physically couldn’t tell her. I didn’t want to say it out loud. That I failed. That I wasn’t good enough. That nothing I’ve done has ever been good enough.

My legs gave out beneath me and I slid to the floor with my back against the door.

How could I have been so naive to believe that Art was falling for me? Not just falling for me. I had been inches away from saying “I love you.”

I’d built my life in Lannington. I’d convinced myself not only that I had a man who loved me, but that I was successful. That I was making a difference here. I was running a café on my own and I did the books of basically every business in town. I knew almost everyone who came to the café by name.

But none of that was good enough for Art. He didn’t want me doing the books, running the café, and even worse, he didn’t want me. I could read it in his face. He wanted me as far away from him as possible.

I don’t know how long I stayed there on the floor of my bedroom, just staring at the pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the room. It could have been minutes, it could’ve been a couple hours. The sunlight still shined through the window, so I knew it was still daytime.

But I needed to get out. I needed out of this house that Art owned. Out of this stupid town that Art ran. I needed to get as far away from Lannington as I could.

I packed my bag with only the clothes Miss Dunham brought me that first week I was here. I wouldn’t take anything that Art had paid for or given me. Except for ten dollars I had stashed away. I had earned that.

I cracked the door and listened for Lucy. I didn’t want to run into her on my way out in case she tried to talk me out of it.

I had made up my mind. I knew what I had to do.

Muffled noises came from her bedroom and I knew it was safe. I crossed the family room and slipped out the door.

The wind nipped any exposed skin, but the sun was out and I set a brisk pace. It would be a long walk to the train station.

I barely glanced at the houses I passed. This may be the last time I ever saw them. I waved politely to a few neighbors, but no one stopped to talk in this weather.

Sunday mornings left the downtown empty, with everyone at church. The storefronts stood dark and the sidewalks empty. I didn’t mind. I didn’t want to talk to anyone anyway.

I made my way out of town on the same road that Art drove me down on my first day here. The tree leaves were brilliant shades of red and gold back then, but their barren branches reflected my mood today. Cold and lonely.

It felt good to be walking––to be doingsomething. The goal in my mind kept me pushing forward. I concentrated on the brisk pace and what I would do next. Step one: get to the train station.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep my mind from wandering. How had I misread the signals so badly? Twelve hours ago, we were dancing in each other’s arms and I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with this man. And then this morning, he did a complete 180.

This couldn’t be my fault. Anyone else would’ve thought the same thing. It wasn’t just me being silly. Hell, he showed up on a Sunday morning just to cut our firewood.

I moved to the side of the road as the rumble of a car approached from behind. I pulled up my scarf to keep the dust from getting in my mouth.

As the car got closer, the engine slowed. Crap.

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