Page 8 of Pretty Broken Things
I’m not being a sarcastic bitch for once. This whole day has opened my eyes. I forced my way into Ford’s night to make him see things my way, but thanks to Shane, it’s my eyes being pried open.
* * *
It’s latewhen I walk through the doors of my house. There’s no note for me, no missed calls or texts on my phone either. The house is dark, and so, so lonely.
“I’m home,” I call out to the empty house. I don’t expect an answer, because there’s never anyone else here except me.
Pulling off my heels, I make my way through the house and find a covered dish in the fridge left for me by Constance, our housekeeper. Zapping it in the microwave, I sit down alone and eat in silence.
On the ride from the Grand I tried to convince myself I was being selfish wanting to break up my dad and Camille. He wouldn’t forget me, but then I came home. Here I am, alone. Always alone, and it eats me inside.
A tear slides down the side of my face, and I brush it away angrily. My problems seem so small in comparison to what I saw tonight. Here I am sitting in a beautiful home. There’s a heated pool in my backyard, beautiful clothes in my closet, and more than enough food in the fridge. And yet, I found myself envying them.
Yeah, my dad gives me things. Beautiful, expensive things, and until tonight I equated them with love. I cling to those things and the status they bring me, because what else do I have? Looking around, the clear answer is nothing. While they might not have much, at least they have each other. My friends didn’t even bother to check up on me. That’s the thing about choosing friendships based on appearance, they never extend below the surface.
I laugh to myself, but it quickly devolves into body racking sobs. “I miss you, Mom,” I say to the darkness.
“Does she ever answer back?” Ford emerges from the dark hallway.
I wipe at my face with both hands. “Not for several years. Why are you here?”
He slides his hands into his pockets, and rocks back and forth on his heels. “I wanted to make sure you made it home safe. I’m not really sure why.”
“I thought you were busy,” I say, looking away from him, but not before I catch his smirk.
“You sound jealous. Did you not like the show?”
“I’m not jealous,” I lie. It isn’t because I want Ford. There isn’t a single person I have that sort of bond with. I don’t know what they are exactly. There’s chemistry between them to be sure, but what I really want is that bond of friendship I saw when she first came up to him. Yes, I was watching him like a creepy stalker, but that’s only because I can’t figure him out.
“You came all the way back here to make sure I made it home?” I ask.
He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m an asshole, but not heartless.”
For once I want to let my guard down. Being here alone is exhausting, and he’s the first person to show any concern for me, even if it is out of a misplaced sense of guilt. “Thank you,” I mumble.
“I can’t talk to my mom about seeing your dad,” he tells me.
I was expecting this after my talk with Shane. The only surprise is that I understand. “I know.”
“I’m sorry you’re struggling with this, really, but I don’t have that kind of relationship with her. She has been trying so hard to hide what she’s been up to, and if she cared at all about what I think or feel she wouldn’t leave me alone with my dad.”
This is the most real conversation we’ve ever had, not that we’d ever spoken much before today. “Is it that bad?”
He looks off in the distance. “It’s all I know. Are you worried about me, Tessa?”
“You called me Tessa.”
His eyebrows raise. “It is your name.”
“But you always call me by my full name or some snide nickname,” I remind him.
Ford shrugs. “I don’t want to fight with you tonight. Let’s just call a truce.”
“How long does the truce last?”
“Until I leave, which will be any minute now. I only came to make sure you made it home okay.”
He turns to leave, and against my better judgment I call out to him. “Don’t go.”