Shadows of the Past (20 page)

CHAPTER 34

"Oliver," I breathe, barely able to believe he's standing here in front of me. He looks about as horrible as I feel, but my eyes drink in the sight of him. It seems like forever since I saw him last, and I want to go to him, to tell him about the guy who just grossed me out inside, but I can't.
 

Oliver isn't mine—he never was, and he never will be.

He starts to speak, but his mouth snaps shut as he focuses on something behind me. "Fuck!" he mutters darkly.
 

I turn to find Sophia and James behind me. Sophia's face loses all its color, and she stares at Oliver like she sees a ghost. Meanwhile, James has a Cheshire cat smile on his face, obviously waiting for the show to start. He doesn't have to wait for long.

Sophia whispers his name much like I did, and Oliver glares at her, not saying a word.
 

Oliver's lip curls up into a snarl.
 

"What the hell are you doing with them?" The violence in his voice scares me, and it must show on my face because he makes an effort to tone down the fury.
 

"Do you know who they are?" He says this like it's obvious, but I really don't know. Sophia starts to say something, but Oliver cuts her off by just raising a hand toward her—not in a shut-the-hell-up way.
 

Oliver doesn't take his eyes off me during the entire exchange. The fact that he's so fixated on me when Sophia is so much prettier warms all the cold places inside me.

"Let me introduce you." He points first at James. "James is my supposedly best friend, and Sophie is my treacherous ex-fiancée."
 

Oh shit. His anger is suddenly so much clearer now. No wonder he's so pissed to see me with them. I gape at her.
 

“You’re Sophie.”

She narrows her gaze on me. “I hate that name. I’m Sophia.” She says it with the air of an aristocrat wannabe.

I'm abnormally aware of the fact that Sophia is watching this exchange intently. This is going to cost me my job. That would suck balls.
 

I take a step toward Oliver, but he steps back. The fact that he's moving away from me cuts deep. Surely he doesn't think I knew. How would I? There were no pictures of her in his flat and it's not as if he told me much about them. Ohhh. He did tell me she was a personal shopper. He didn't say where or what her name was—but I heard it.
 

"It's not what you think. I swear I had no idea, Oliver." Oh, please believe that. Please, please believe that. I don't know what else to do to make him see, to show him that even as upset as I am with him, I would never, ever betray him that way. Part of me is screaming, why do I even care? But the other part is waiting for him to speak, hoping I didn’t hurt him this way.

Finally, turning to face the others, he says, "Please excuse us. I need to talk to Kayla privately." Taking me by the elbow, he tries to lead me down the street, away from big ears and watchful eyes.
 

I have to dig my heels in to keep him from doing it. I know if I leave with him, if I let him walk me down the sidewalk, I'll end up giving in to him. I'll forgive him for everything, even if he doesn't deserve forgiveness. Then, I'll be stuck, waiting for the next time something happens, the next time he keeps something from me—the next time he lies.
 

I can't do that. I refuse to be that girl. The one who is ignorant, who looks the other way while her guy plays her for a fool.

"Please, Kayla," he implores, begging me with his eyes to not rebuke him here. "I've tried calling, texting... If you won't talk to me, how can I make things right?"

It feels like it might kill me to do it, but I jerk my arm out of his light hold and back up a few steps, maintaining a safe distance. Knowing he must see my answer in my eyes, I give it to him anyway.
 

"I'm sorry, too. I can't. I'm not ready."
 

His expression darkens, and I'm afraid he's going to say something nasty. Something that he'll never be able to take back, and something I won't ever be able to forgive. Rushing forward, I touch two fingers to his lips.
 

"Don't. Please, just don't."
 

Before he can respond, I turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone on the street. It's one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, leaving him standing there looking so forlorn, so lost.
 

There's a hardness in his eyes now too, though, one that hasn't been there before. It's the kind of look that terrifies and warms me in equal measure, because it tells me he's not giving up.
 

He may never give up.
 

I wander aimlessly for almost fifteen minutes before heading back to the shop. I know Sophia, aka Sophie, will be waiting to ambush me as soon as I walk in the door. She's going to want to know how I know Oliver, when we met, how we met and if I knew him when they were together.
 

Sophia wasn't someone I liked much to begin with, and knowing she's the one who cheated on Oliver makes me want to claw her eyes out. At the same time, if she hadn't, I never would have gotten close to him.
 

It's a double-edged sword, especially with how conflicted I am right now. I'm running from him, even when my gut instinct says I should run to him. These thoughts consume me, and by the time I walk back through the doors, our lunch break is over, and it's time to get back to work. Unfortunately, Sophia has a very light afternoon, so there's plenty of time to talk while folding new merchandise.

CHAPTER 35

I don't have to wait long for Sophia to start questioning me. "So..." she starts, drawing out the word so that it's three syllables, instead of one. "How long have you known Oliver?"
 

The question sounds innocent, but I can hear the fear beneath it. She's worried he moved on, and her chance with him is over.

"I've known him for a couple of months now. His dog clobbered me in the park and knocked my phone into the lake."

"That would be Barkley, the beast.” She sneers, and I can tell she doesn’t like the dog. “I suppose Oliver swooped in, the noble white knight after his monster attacked you. I’m certain he tracked you down and replaced the phone in gallant fashion, am I right?"

"Something like that.” I’m staring at a sweater in my hands, but not really seeing it. “Can I ask you a question?"

Sophia rolls her eyes like it’s a huge imposition. "I suppose so."
 

"Why did you cheat on Oliver with James? He's a dick." Before she can answer the original question, I continue, "I mean, if I put the two of them side by side, Oliver would always win. James makes my skin crawl."

She doesn't answer right away. Instead, she looks down, biting her lip and looking deep in thought. When she finally speaks, her voice is low and sad.
 

"I loved Oliver. I still love him. The thing with James just materialized. Before I knew what was happening, we'd gone too far and done too much. After the first time, it just kept happening."
 

She pauses, and it's all I can do not to smack her. How does something like that just happen? She walked past James naked and fell on it? I'm sorry, that's just not how it works.
 

"Look, I'm not trying to be a bitch—" well, I am, but I'm not. It's hard to explain why I feel the need to avenge Oliver, to make her see what a huge mistake she made by cheating on him. "You know James grabbed my ass at lunch today, right? Is that really the type of guy you want to end up with?"

She holds her head high and acts like it doesn’t matter.
 

"James grabs everyone's ass. I realize he's going to cheat on me, but he's got money, and he can take care of me. When we're married, he won't give a damn what I do. In exchange for bearing his children and warming his bed when he wants me, I'll never want for anything." She says it matter-of-factly, and my mouth drops open in shock.
 

"You gave up someone who was in love with you, who would have done all of those things without grabbing other women's asses or bringing home the clap." I don't know why I'm trying to impress upon her the fact that Oliver was the better choice. I don't want her trying to get him back.

Wow. I'm a serious hypocrite. I don't want him because he lied to me, but I don't want anyone else to have him, either.
 

We spend the rest of our shift in silence. James is waiting outside for her when I step out into the brisk evening air, but I don't acknowledge him in any way. I don't want to chance him thinking I'm interested.
 

As I walk down Kensington High Street, I pull my phone out and power it on. It's been off since Oliver showed up at my apartment, but his comments earlier about ignoring both his calls and texts have me wondering what he said.

When the phone turns on, I have eight-hundred-and-sixty-two texts, as well as a full voicemail inbox.
 

I pop one of my earbuds in my ear and hit play on the first message. It’s Oliver, “Kayla, don't shut me out like this. Please, let me at least know that you got home okay. I'm worried about you, sweetheart. You left in such a rush, and I have to do this inspection today. I'm sorry, American Girl.”

There are two more like it, but the one he sent after he left our flat that night guts me like a knife. Tears begin to fall as I walk through the throngs of people, trying to lose myself in the crowd while I listen.

Oliver sounds terse this time, “Damn it, Kayla. Do you know what it does to me knowing I hurt you and you won't let me even try to make it better? I can't take the distance between us, even though I know it's my fault. Seeing you standing in the doorway to your room white-faced and crying tears me up inside. It's an image I'm going to carry around with me for a good long time. Let me make it up to you, please. Let me love you. I need to show you I love you. That shouldn't be something I say for the first time to your voicemail, but you're not leaving me much choice. If you feel the same, and, God, I hope you do, please call me back. I'll do anything to gain your forgiveness, to repair the broken trust between us. Let me in sweetheart, let me make things right.”

CHAPTER 36

I'm only halfway through the voicemails by the time I get home, and each one has more tears falling down my cheeks. When I walk into the apartment, Emily's standing in the kitchen making something to eat, but drops the spoon to rush over to me when she sees my tears.

"Oh, Kayla!" She uses her thumbs to brush the tears away, as she searches my eyes trying to figure out what happened.
 

"Did you make a sad song breakup playlist? Someone needs to teach you better. You should have made a ‘he can kiss my ass’ playlist, instead. Don't let him get to you!"
 

I'm crying too hard to respond, so she wraps her arms around me, holding me close and murmuring soothing words, as she rocks us back and forth in the entryway.
 

We're still standing in the entryway when there's a knock at the door. Emily shoots me a wide-eyed look before checking the peephole and relaxing.
 

"It's just Eli." She opens the door to reveal Eli, one of the evening doormen standing in the hall with a huge bouquet of colorful flowers. "Oh, look at those!" she exclaims before saying, "Hey there, Eli. Who are those for?"

“Evening, Miss Emily," Eli says, the tips of his ears turning pink as he stares at my flatmate. He's had a crush on her as long as I've lived here, and it's adorable. She has no idea, and the poor guy is completely wasting his time with it since she doesn't swing his way.
 

"These are for Miss Kayla." He turns to me to say, "They're from Mr. Jackson. He just dropped them off." He reaches to hand them to me, but I'm frozen in place, staring at the beautiful flowers.
 

Emily finally directs him inside to place them on the coffee table. As soon as he's gone, she shuts the door and practically skips over to where the flowers sit, eagerly searching for the small white envelope that will surely cause more tears.

I've never received flowers before, and even if I had, I'm sure the arrangement wouldn't be as big as this one. The flowers range in color from peach, to lilac, and finally to a deep pink, with a few white ones sprinkled throughout the arrangement. The majority of the flowers are roses, but there are also astrantia and waxflower mixed in, making it a really beautiful display.
 

"Found it!" Emily waves the card at me. "Come on, Kayla, you know you want to read it!"

Making my way slowly over to where she's standing, I run my fingertips along the soft petals, breathing in the smell before hesitantly taking the card from her hand. I trace the words written in his slanting, masculine handwriting, committing them to memory as I read:

Kayla,

Until today, I didn't realize how much I hurt you. I can't begin to tell you how much I hate the distrust I've caused, not just because it means you won't speak to me, but because you're scared of me. Fear is the last thing I ever want you to feel around me, and I loath the fact that I caused it.

I'm guessing you haven't listened to the voicemails, or read the embarrassing number of texts I've sent you over the past week. Please, take the time to listen to them all. Don't just delete them because you're upset with me. I poured my heart out to you in those messages, and I think if you listen to them, if you read them, you'll see just how sorry I am. I hope to talk to you soon.

I won't give up –not on you—and not on us.

-Oliver

Emily reads over my shoulder, sniffling quietly by the time she gets to the end. I'm so tired of crying, tired of hating him, of avoiding him. I'm tired of it all, but I just don't think I can give him a second chance. I've been burned badly before and know I can’t endure that twice, but Oliver is paying for someone else’s mistakes.
 

"What are you going to do, Kayla?" Emily asks, and I know my roommate is worried about me. I don't know what to say. If I'm honest, I don't know what to do in this situation at all.