Page 40 of Where We Fall
Even Tim was proof of that.
Theo grabbed his things and stopped in front of me. I could smell his aftershave that was always a little too strong for my liking.
“Do us all a favor and just tell him you love him already. Put him out of his fucking misery.” He adjusted his grip on his gym bag, and it was only once I heard the door slam that I started to cry.
* * *
Hours later,Dexter was on my doorstep, a sleeping Dylan in his arms. I told him to put the baby upstairs and geared myself for whatever he might’ve already heard. The sound of his even steps headed toward me caused me to wipe my palms against my jeans.
“Rachel called. Said you were acting like a psycho again,” Dexter said easily as he leaned against the counter—like he belonged in my house, because we both knew he did.
“Did she tell you the part where she was fucking Theo?”
“What?”
I glanced over and watched him work his jaw. It probably wasn’t best to tell him that way, but I was still simmering. I made a pot of coffee, letting him sit in the silence between us.
As I poured two cups, I started talking again and he took a seat at the table. “I dropped his things off on her doorstep.” I reached in the cookie jar and grabbed a few, tossing one to Dexter and putting one in my mouth.
“Just tell me the police won’t come knocking on your door any minute now.”
I chuckled as I finished chewing. “You wouldn’t bail me out?”
“Like that’s even a question.” He smiled before asking, “You all right?”
I ate another cookie thoughtfully. “I think so. It’s for the best. But I’m a little shocked Rachel had the balls to pull that off. It doesn’t make sense since she’s been pining for you since the get-go.”
Dexter shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t always about me. I don’t pretend to understand her.”
I nibbled on the last cookie. “You understand me.”
“Sometimes I wish I didn’t.”
I didn’t want to hear the confusion in his voice. I didn’t want to have this awkwardness between us, so I attempted to steer the conversation to what I thought was a better topic. “You seeing anyone, Dexter Andrews?” I remembered being face-to-face with a woman he’d spent the night with and I often wondered if he was secretly dating someone. The mere thought of it made my heart ache.
I heard the screech of the chair being pushed back and Dexter grabbed his suit jacket before rounding the table and heading toward the door.
I barely had time to register the change in pace. “What are you doing?” I asked, grabbing his arm.
“Don’t fucking play with me, Noa. And don’t ever treat me like second best.” He yanked his arm back and opened the door. When I thought he’d leave, he surprised me by slamming the door and facing me again.
“You aren’t second anything, Dexter,” I whispered, wishing he could read my mind and see how much he owned me. Maybe Theo had owned me in the most basic sense, but I’d given myself to Dexter and never got myself back. I wasn’t supposed to be anyone else’s.
“Then why not me?” He dropped his jacket and his hands reached to cradle my face. “Why not us?”
“Because it was too much. Loving you was killing me.” I tried to step away from him but he held on, his eyes on mine. The first time I loved him, I almost died. The second time I loved him, both Dylan and I almost died. At that rate, the next time I let myself love him, it’d cause an apocalyptic disaster.
“Why do you want to know if I’m seeing anyone?” He was taking something that I’d tried to be flippant about and dragged me, kicking and screaming, toward the truth.
If Dexter were a truth serum, he’d be the most potent. Still I tried to brush it off.
“It’s not important,” I said, shrugging.
He shook his head and I knew it wasn’t going to work. “For once, tell me how you feel.”
I pushed him away, my hands that wished to hold onto him making room for the hurt that was big enough to fill every open space in this house. I prided myself in always telling Dexter how I felt. Sure, in the bigger scheme of things I hadn’t. But he didn’t know that. He couldn’t. “What do you want me to say? You want me to tell you that now that I’m single, I want to try again? No thanks.”
The hurt flashed in his eyes and I wanted to grab the words, each syllable and hateful inflection, and shove them back in my mouth.