Cake Love: All Things Payne (18 page)

This was a bad idea. It's unnerving watching her laugh at his jokes and enjoy conversing with him. I want to walk right over and punch him. I'm starting to think the British lothario, Garrett Marson, was more attractive than this guy.

They finally get up to leave and I decide to go talk to her. Just as I am getting up, they step outside and the slime ball winks at her and touches the small of her back. The fucking nerve of this guy!

"Son of a bitch!" I yell out. Morgana turns her head and our eyes meet. I'm about to call out to her and start to move in her direction when I see the expression she gives me. Her eyes squint as she shakes her head.

My heart falls to the floor. This stupid sawdust covered floor. If I looked down, I wouldn't be surprised if I saw the dust hungrily drink in the red from my veins. It feels like she has cut my throat with her expression.

She doesn't want me. I can see it on her face and even in her eyes. The confusion. The surprise. The rejection.

"Hey! You staying or goin'?" the bartender asks.

I let out a deep breath and sit back on the stool. Taking out a few bills from my wallet, I slide them across the wood.

"I'm staying. Another pint."

He nods and takes my glass as I focus back on the glow of the street filtering in through the open doorway. People race by, but all I can see is the look on her face.

Something in me snaps as I take a sip of the freshly drawn beer. It tastes good. A little watered down, but refreshing. Maybe I'm dehydrated from being drunk for several days. Maybe I'm a bit jet lagged, but all I can think about is how she made me feel. I look forward to my day because of her. She made me enjoy the good moments, the happy times. Edgar was right; I smiled more around her, laughed more.

Perhaps I can do that without her. Maybe if I become more like my old self, the one who enjoyed life, before my family's death, I have a chance at winning her back.

Fuck. I was an asshole to her. I'm surprised she didn't leave long ago. No wonder she likes being with the surfer joker, he makes her laugh. She is so beautiful when she smiles.

I sigh as I take another sip, knowing it will be my last. Because no matter what happens, whether I get her back or not, I am not going to waste my life drowning again. Drowning in alcohol, drowning in bitterness. I'm better than that and Morgana deserves better than that.

I take the sip of the pint and then set it down. Throwing a ten on the bar for tip, I head out to go home.

Chapter 8

Payne’s Anti-Rule 2: Make Mistakes and Then Learn from Them

Present Day: Henrik's Apartment

How many times am I going to have to watch her leave?

My chest is rising and falling rapidly as I stare at the black front door. The one I just shut on Morgana after I told her I can't have her in my life. Because why exactly? Oh yeah, because she is too afraid to be with me again.

What the fuck?

I'm having trouble breathing and the thick air of the apartment is stifling. I choke with oppressive gasps and my eyes begin to blur. My hand wipes my face, trying to scrub the irritation away. Looking down at my palm, I see it's wet. Tears are falling. Shit!

I turn and storm into my tiny kitchen. Everything is new and sleek, but boxes still lay on the counter unopened. After living here for two weeks, I shrugged off the kitchen unpacking, relying mostly on take-out.

I need it.

My hand is shaking as I reach for the door handle of the refrigerator. Pulling the stainless steel door open, I see a box of baking soda, a bag of grapes, and an unopened bottle of sparkling white wine - a gift from my realtor on move in day.

I rush to grab the bottle and almost drop it from the resting place on the inside shelf along the door. Setting the dark green bottle on the granite counter a little too firmly, I rip off the black foil surrounding the cork. It's one of those plastic corks, a cheap bottle.

Gripping the neck, I try to pull and twist the cork but my hand keeps slipping. I wipe my palm on my pants and try again with no luck. I need a towel.

Hastily I open and close drawers causing the utensils to clatter. The last drawer I rummage through has some wooden spoons, a small brown hand towel, and a package of wintergreen gum. My eyes dart between the towel and the gum.

"Fuck you! Fuck you!!!" I yell at the top of my lungs at the gum.

My whole body is trembling as the anger reaches a boiling point. I take the bottle and hurl it into the sink. It doesn't shatter, just cracks. There is a hissing sound as the golden liquid starts to spray out.

My hand pushes into the drawer and from deep in me, a chuckle bubbles to the surface as I withdraw the gum. Unwrapping a piece, I pop it into my mouth as the snicker turns into hysterics. I have to grip the counter until my laughter dies down.

The memory of all the times that shitty drawer at the office stuck when I needed this gum floods my mind. The first time Morgana helped me with the drawer and fell into my lap. If I had to write a book about my life, I would name it Drawers and Gum.

Fucking drawer. Fucking gum. Fucking Morgana. God, I miss her.

Wild thoughts race through my brain. Images of her bent over my desk, my lap, when she first begged me…for more. My synapses keep firing in my head, and now she has lipstick smeared across her face as my thumb traced her cheek when she first visited my condo, slowly wiping the color away.

I groan as I remember how I purposely pushed the tissue to her lips, trying desperately not to touch her puckered mouth. My fingers aching to thrust past her glistening lips and watch her suck me down.

I want her beneath me, to encase her, fill her, and breathe her in, but none of this can happen. They are all just memories now. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to dissolve her from my thoughts.

I need to get out of here, away from myself, especially my thoughts. Grabbing my keys and phone from the desk, I head out of my place. As I enter the elevator, I text Tiffany.

Me:
Where are u?

After a minute, as I turn the corner of my street heading toward the red line El train, my phone buzzes with a text.

Tiffany:
David's Physical Therapy appt. Why?

The hospital finally released David a week ago. He woke from his coma two months ago, when I was in London. I was so angry with myself for not being there, especially when I got back. I hid away in my apartment until Tiffany came over and told me her son was awake and talking, a week after I was fired from Mimir.

It was a sucker punch. I was already down from losing my job and watching Morgana walk away; then to hear David was asking about me and I was too self-absorbed to be there for him.

The real shitty thing was, after Tiffany told me, I decided to stay home and drink even more rather than go see David. That's how much of a selfish fucking coward I was.

This time I won't be. That green bottle looked so easy, so good. But then I would have lost everything I have worked on for the past month and a half. I know if I had drank that bottle, I would have just holed up in my apartment again. I would miss out on watching my business plan become real and seeing a little boy learn to walk for the first time. These moments outweigh a stupid drink any day of the week.

I type into my phone, barely paying attention to where I am walking and knocking into people as I go.

Me:
I'm coming to visit. Lurie's right?

After a few seconds, my phone buzzes again.

Tiffany:
Yeah. David will be happy to see you.

I manage to get through the turnstile and up the stairs to the El platform just as a train pulls up. In about fifteen minutes, the train pulls up at my stop, but the Ann & Robert H. Lurie's Children's Hospital of Chicago is still a fifteen minute walk from the El stop.

I don't even notice the time go by as I maneuver the city streets and make my way in the hospital. I calmly walk in the sliding door and up the escalator to the visitor's desk, clipping my visitor’s pass to the hem of my shirt, and I take the elevator to where Tiffany and David sometimes have their appointment. Occasionally David gets his therapy in the outpatient location in Lincoln Park; however, the majority of David’s appointments are here in the hospital since the doctors like to be present to observe his progress.

I walk back past the receptionist who knows me by now. An elderly Puerto Rican woman who loves to talk about her grandson's job as a car salesman. I think she wants me to buy a car from him, but I can't afford that anymore. Between my soon-to-be business and helping Tiffany out with doctor bills, the last thing I need is a car. I had to sell the one I already had.

Just as I walk into the room, I see a tall, dark haired boy in a batman t-shirt and baggy black shorts taking slow steps, barely lifting his foot off the ground as he moves the metal walker. His disheveled mop of brown hair keeps falling into his eyes as he concentrates on the green rubber matted floor. A large black man with a baldhead and gray t-shirt stands beside him but doesn't help, making the boy do all the work.

"Henrik!" I hear Tiffany's voice and turn to see her seated in a chair in the corner of the room. Her long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her skin glows in the white cotton blouse she wears.

"Uncle Henrik!" My head swivels back to see David's mouth break out into a wide grin that I know in a few years will have all the girls calling him late at night.

I firm my stance and cross my arms over my chest. "Well look at you David. The way you’re progressing, I’m thinking you might take up track when school starts up in the fall."

David blushes and is waiting for me to walk to him but I glance over at Tim, his physical therapist, and we exchange a knowing look.

"Come on David, give me a hug." I hold out my arms waiting for him. He sighs and slowly drags himself over to me. I don't even have to bend anymore to hug him as the boy is at my chin now. I swear, just a week ago his head hit my shoulder.

After I release him from my bear hug, I look around the room and then down at him. “Where’s Doctor Adler?”

David blushes bright red as he stares at the floor. “She already came. She left about five minutes before you got here.” He sighs.

David has the biggest crush on that woman. I can't help but feel pride when I see him growing into a man. No doubt, she’ll break his heart, but he needs that to grow.

I should be taking my own advice.

"Let's get back to work David. You want to impress the doctor at the next appointment don't you?" Tim comes up behind David and puts his hand on the boy’s shoulder. David nods and turns the walker away from me.

I walk over to Tiffany as she puts the magazine she was reading on the floor. I sit in the chair beside her and she pats me on the back, tilting her head to the side.

After studying me for an intense minute, she finally asks, "What's wrong?"

Tiffany can always tell when I'm upset. As much as it irks me at times, I need it right now. She has helped me through so much in my life. The death of my family, any struggle I have had at work, and dealing with the ups and downs of Morgana. I don't think I could have handled all that if she hadn't forced me to talk about it.

"Morgana. I ran into her today." My eyes wearily glance over at her to watch her nod as her eyes fall to the floor.

"Yeah, Aria told me she was coming home. I didn’t think you would see her so soon. Did she get in touch with you?"

The phone call last night runs through my head. I knew if I heard Morgana’s sultry voice, I would want to explain everything to her. Let it all out, so I wanted to wait until we could meet up in person. To show her my work, why I gave her some breathing room and why I needed some time to focus on my life.

"Yes and no. She called last night, only Zooey was there and I think Morgana got the wrong impression. Today, I ran into her on the street. The usual happened, she was beautiful and funny, so I let my heart take over. I brought her back to my apartment and showed her my plans for my business."

Leaning back in the pastel pink plastic chair I follow Tiffany's gaze to David, who is now lying on the floor doing some leg stretches.

"What did she think?"

"She thought it was great. She was surprised, but happy for me. Then I told her I still loved her."

I watched Tiffany flinch as I said the word loved.

"And?"

"And, she told me she was too afraid. She didn't want to be with me anymore." I release a breathy laugh. "Funny thing is I don't blame her. I treated her like shit. What did I expect? After everything I’ve done to her, did I really think she would jump up and down and hop into my arms, professing her undying love for me? Yes, but I think deep down I worried she wouldn't. I guess I was living in denial."

Tiffany nods and brings her hand up to my arm and gently rubs it. "Denial is a powerful thing. Denial keeps us going. Some people live in denial, always expecting the worst to happen so that if it doesn't they can feel relief instead of grief." Tiffany waves her hand at David before continuing, "While others live in denial that only the best will happen, so they can continue to work hard without facing the truth or the possibility of a bad outcome." She pats me on the arm.

I sigh wondering how this is supposed to make me feel better.

"Morgana is also living in denial Henrik. She’s like me, expecting the worst to happen. If she keeps you away then she won't have to hurt again, only she doesn't realize that living with constant pain is worse than anything else you could do to her."

"What am I supposed to do then? Just wait and hope she realizes this on her own? I have been patient for six weeks Tiffany. Seeing her today made me realize I don't want to be patient anymore. I want her back."

Tiffany laughs at me. Actually laughs while shaking her head.

"What the hell is so funny Tiffany?"

"You, Henrik. You are so blinded by her rejection that you have no idea how to win her back."

I am really ready to shake her. This isn't funny.

"If you know how to help me than I am all ears Tiffany." I grip the chair to prevent my hands from lunging at her. I know she is only messing with me, but I’m just not in the mood.

"You have to talk to the last person you ever wanted to see again. The one who knows everything."

Her grin practically takes over her whole face as her eyes dance in merriment. I don't like the riddle game that she’s playing with me. I open my mouth to yell at her just as it hits me who she is talking about. In a rush of breath escaping my mouth, I whisper, "No."