Cinderella Screwed Me Over

Chapter Thirty

“Are you mad?” Jake asked when we got to my door.

After eating dinner at Sparrow, we’d driven back in our separate cars. I’d wanted to just go home and be done with today, but he’d insisted on walking me to my door.

I turned to face him. “You like that I’m honest, right?”

Jake’s shoulders sagged. “That means yes.”

“I told you that you didn’t need to make anything up to me, but you insisted we go out. Then you were late. And after you finally showed up, you spent the entire time on the phone. If I wanted to eat dinner by myself, I would’ve stayed home where I’d at least have the TV to keep me company.”

I reached into my purse and ran my hand along the bottom, searching for my keys. “I understand that you need to work sometimes, but don’t call and insist we go out if you need to take care of something else.” Finally, I found my keys and unlocked the door.

Jake followed me in. “I wouldn’t have taken the calls if they weren’t important. It’s like when you have to take calls from your boss. You don’t want to answer, but sometimes you have to anyway.”

“But my calls rarely last more than five minutes.” I kicked off my shoes and sighed. “Whatever. I don’t want to have a big thing about it. I’m just tired and done with today.” I ran a hand through my hair. “This is the crappy relationship stuff that I hate.”

“I guess it’s good thing we’re not in a relationship, then,” he said sarcastically.

“I guess so.”

The muscles along his jaw tensed as he stared at me. He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’ve got a lot going on right now. I shouldn’t have gone out tonight, but I was worried you’d be upset about last night, and then I ended up making you more upset, which is the complete opposite of what I was going for.”

My eyes burned as I tried to keep the tears from coming. I can’t have a breakdown now. Not in front of him. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you later.”

Jake ran his hand down my arm and slipped his fingers between mine. “Darby, come on. We’re going to have disagreements from time to time.” His phone rang and he swore. He glanced at the display. “It’s the restaurant. I’ve got to take it.”

“I understand. I really do. You’ve got to take that and I’ve got to get to bed early so I can deal with tomorrow.” I opened the door and motioned for him to go.

He kissed me on the cheek as he brushed past. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I closed the door behind him and double-checked my locks.

What a shitty night. Why’d I have to run into Porter the same day Jake and I have our first fight?

Rest was what I needed. I was sure that everything would look better tomorrow morning. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, changed into my pajamas, and crawled into bed.

But I couldn’t fall asleep.

…

I finished typing up the options for the flooring and e-mailed the information to Patricia. I give her ten minutes to call me and ask me about this, even though I already sent it to her.

The phone on my desk rang. I saw it was from the front desk and hit the speaker button. “What’s up?”

“You have a Mr. Porter Montgomery here to see you,” Kathy said.

My throat went dry. Seeing Porter last night had stirred up issues I thought I was over. All night long I’d replayed my relationship with him, then my sort-of relationship with Jake. Everything was a big, confusing mess. And it looked like it was about to get messier.

“Go ahead and send him back.”

I sat back, trying to act casual even though it felt like a swarm of bees had taken up residence in my stomach.

Porter walked through my open doorway and flashed his million-dollar smile. It brought out the cleft in his chin and lit up his eyes.

“Come on in,” I said, annoyed at the way my voice wavered.

Porter closed the door behind him. He strode up to my desk, his eyes never leaving mine. “You know, when I first got to New York I missed you like crazy. In fact, I was crushed you decided not to move there with me. Before long, though, I was busy, met other people, and stopped thinking about you.”

I thought of the months I’d missed him. Of how I’d reviewed my case studies and entered him in with the rest of my exes, every keystroke breaking my heart a little more. “Wow. I’m so glad you stopped by to tell me that.”

Porter placed his palms on my desk and leaned toward me. “But ever since I saw you last night, you’re all I can think about. The guy you were with, the guy who ignored you all night, tell me he’s not your boyfriend.”

I didn’t know what to say about Jake. Especially after our discussion last night. He’d made it clear we weren’t in a relationship. “We’re sort of…undefined.”

“Let me take you out, then. Surely he can handle a little competition.” Porter’s expression—cocky grin, one eyebrow higher than the other—said he didn’t think he’d have a problem taking out the competition.

Most of Jake’s calls last night had been about opening another Blue in Salt Lake. With him leaving for months, and our whatever-it-was starting to crack, I wasn’t sure what his and my future held. Or if we even had a future. My chest tightened and a lump rose in my throat. I worked to shove those emotions down and looked at Porter, trying to think objectively about the current mess I’d gotten myself into. After all, there’d been a point in my life when I’d thought Porter was “the one.”

The phone on my desk rang, scattering my thoughts. “I’m really busy right now. Patricia’s got me working on this project, and things are crazy.”

Porter came around my desk, grabbed a Post-it and a pen, and wrote down his name and number. “Call me later.” He stuck the Post-it on my computer monitor, bent down and kissed my cheek, then walked out of my office.

I answered the phone—it was Patricia, demanding I go to the contractors to look over the new plans. After I hung up, I stared at Porter’s number, my heart catching at the familiar writing. Then I thought about Jake and our time together, beginning to end, and the pain in my chest deepened.

If Jake weren’t leaving for months, the answer would be easy.

I shut down my computer and stood. Last minute, I turned back and ripped the Post-it off my computer screen.

…

As soon as I got out of the meeting with the contractors, I picked up my phone and called an emergency get-together with Stephanie. Full-on wedding mode or not, I needed my best friend. By the time I arrived at her place, my emotions were coiled so tightly I thought I might explode. Stephanie waved me inside the home she and Anthony shared. “Come on back. I’m just packing a few things for the honeymoon.”

I followed her to her bedroom and watched her consult her bullet-pointed list.

“So what’s up?” she said.

“I ran into Porter last night,” I said.

Steph whipped toward me, eyes wide.

“Then Jake and I had our first fight.”

Steph set her pile of clothes on the bed. “Okay, this is a sit-down conversation. Let’s go get something to drink and talk it out.”

We went back out to the living room. I sat on the couch; Steph disappeared into the kitchen and came back with two cans of Sprite. “Sorry. This is all I’ve got.”

I took a can from her. “That’s okay. I don’t mind starting with the hard stuff.”

She popped the top of her soda and sat on the couch facing me. “Start with the fight.”

“Jake was thirty minutes late to dinner last night, then he spent the entire time on his phone. I sat there having dinner with myself, so I was annoyed, and when he walked me home we had this big stupid thing over it.”

“You wouldn’t be fighting if you didn’t care. I just read this article about how if you never fight, one of you isn’t speaking up. It compared a good fight to getting an oil change for your car. You have to clear the gunk out to keep the ride going smoothly.”

Steph and all her articles that had the answers to everything. If only they really did. I blew out my breath. “So how do you know the difference between an oil change and something that will ruin your car forever?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think one bad dinner’s enough.” She took a swig of her soda. “Get to the part with Porter, and we’ll come back to Jake.”

When I told her about Porter’s visit to my office, Stephanie slammed her soda can on the coffee table with a clink and shook her head. “That’s so Porter. To just show up, make a grand gesture, and think he can get his way.” When I didn’t say anything, her eyes widened. “You’re not seriously thinking of… Darby, no.” She put her hand on my knee. “I know you loved Porter, and that since you two only broke up because he moved, you never really got closure. But he didn’t offer to visit back and forth. He never even called after he moved. He blew his chance. I think you should work things out with Jake.”

I slumped back against her couch. “Honestly, after I took Jake to the ranch, I decided I wanted to do the relationship thing with him. Then I found out he’s thinking about opening a restaurant in Salt Lake. He’ll be gone for months.” Saying it aloud sent a sharp pang through my chest.

“Maybe he won’t go if you tell him how much you care about him.”

“I’m not going to ask him to choose me over his job,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s what he was on the phone about all last night and I could tell it’s a big deal to him. I swear, it’s like Porter all over again.” I rubbed my forehead, my eyes burning from trying to hold back tears. “Gil, too. All the good ones always move away.” I cracked open my soda and took a big gulp, enjoying the way the fizzy bubbles burned on the way down. “I don’t know what to do about anything anymore.”

Stephanie’s eyes lit up and I could practically see the lightbulb blinking on over her head. “I’ve got just the thing.” She walked over to the entertainment center and dug through her CDs. “The breakup mix we made after Gil left for school and I broke up with Paul.”

Music I hadn’t heard in years blasted through the room. It didn’t take long for Steph and me to belt out the lyrics to “Don’t Speak” along with No Doubt.

“‘Good Riddance’ by Green Day is coming up next,” Steph said over the music.

“And how exactly is listening to this old music supposed to help?”

Steph shrugged. “We sit back and wait for inspiration to hit.”

Each song produced a sea of memories—some good, some bad. Old relationships, days in the apartment with Steph, hours spent cramming for school. I leaned against Stephanie’s shoulder. “Sometimes I wish we could go back to those college years when you and I lived in that tiny apartment with so few responsibilities. Then I remember Allen, Boone, Evan—you and your string of bad boyfriends. The studying, eating nothing but ramen, and our crappy, run-down apartment, and I think where I’m at isn’t so bad.”

“We’ve done pretty well for ourselves,” Steph said. “And I’m getting married to an amazing man in a little more than a week.”

“You’re going to be the best, most beautiful bride. I’m happy for you, Steph. I know I don’t say it enough.”

A huge smile spread across her face. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.” She leaned her head onto mine. We sat there like that, listening as The Verve’s “Bitter Sweet Symphony” replaced Christina Aguilera.

When the last track on the CD ended, Stephanie sat up and twisted to face me. “Promise me you’ll at least talk to Jake. He deserves a face-to-face conversation.”

“And what am I supposed to say to him?”

“Hello’s always a good place to start.”