CHAPTER489
At first, I understood, I mean her dad is only getting worse and they don’t think he has much time left; but now weeks in, and more than a dozen of these episodes, I am losing my temper. I catch a glimpse of him pulling his phone towards him and sighing. I see that moment of self-doubt, where he is trying to choose whether to answer or not and I can already tell, he will. To me it says it all. Saying nothing, I get up from the couch fast and storm over to the kitchen to look for food. If I am out of direct sight, he might not see me hating on him and making death motions with kitchen utensils behind his back.
Opening the refrigerator and pulling out the chocolate and Pepsi he keeps for me, despite claiming he never would, and then rummaging for the box of snacks he dutifully keeps in the cupboard. I put some popcorn in the microwave and try to zone out as I hear his voice on the one-sided telephone call.
“Tasha please, you can’t keep doing this. Are you drunk?” He sounds tired, strained, but the fact he is still willing to put up with this shit only angers me. I’m tired and irrational and I don’t care if he sees me pissed at this tonight. I am so sick of acting like it doesn’t get to me as much as it does. Tired of the little charade of the understanding girlfriend I have had to play for this long, even when she showed up that one time to the movies when we were there, and he ended up sitting with her for twenty minutes across the aisle and ‘consoled’ her. I literally thought of walking out on him that night and never coming back; he didn’t see how pissed I was at all and it’s only been growing stronger.
Gathering up all my snacks onto a tray and leaving the popcorn in the microwave, I walk past him without a backwards glance, chin in the air and the walk of a woman who has had enough.
“I’m going to bed.” I announce loudly, knowing fine well Natasha will hear me and not giving a single shit about it. I have kept quiet long enough, acting like I am oblivious and never make a peep when she calls, in case it upsets her that I am here, but I am in no mood anymore. This has been eating at me the longer it goes on.
Arrick is probably frowning at me, for being unnecessarily cruel, but I am not about to turn back and look. Nudging the bedroom door open with my hip as he carries on with his obviously uber important call.
“Yes, that was her, you know I’m with her, Tash.” He sighs again as I try again to angle my hip under the handle to open the door, the tray too full and I am also balancing a can of open Pepsi so can’t let go with one hand. Arrick suddenly appears behind me, opening the handle and pushing the door open for me without removing his cell from his ear. I mutter some thanks under my breath and push on ahead, without turning his way. I wonder if he is going to follow me, wouldn’t be unlike him when I announce I am going to bed, but instead he seems to go back to the couch and continue consoling his ex fucking girlfriend.
“I know you do, I get that you miss me, and miss that I was the one you always talked to.” He lowers his voice, I resist the urge to kick the door shut on him and block it out, but I can hear the microwave, reminding me of the popcorn and curse myself. I want to stay in here and rage and not have to walk past him again and face that disapproving look he gives me when I am being difficult. I hate that even now, he can still make me feel like a childish spoiled brat at times and isn’t shy at making it obvious.
He has no concept of what a dickhead he is sometimes.
I lift my chin and pace the room for a moment, putting my food on the nightstand and killing time by turning on the tv, finding a movie to turn on low. It isn’t overly late, and we have no plans tonight, except to stay here and vegetate, as we have plans to meet his friends for bowling tomorrow night. Christian and Jenny are coming and Nathan too; we have been doing a lot of stuff like this with all of them and even Christian’s boyfriend has been on the scene, James, and I like him.
I’m called by the ping of the microwave and try to remove any traces of severely pissed off from my face, moving to the door and walking out, seeing him taking it out for me and bursting open the bag into a bowl. He has his phone tucked under his chin and propped on his shoulder, so evidently still talking to her and I want to throw something at the back of his head from over here.
Marching over towards him, I avoid eye contact when he turns and realizes I’m there, pretending to be absorbed in finding something in the drawer instead, locating napkins and a straw and taking the bowl from him without any contact while looking down at what I’m holding. Arrick catches me by the upper arm as I move to head back to the bedroom and holds me steady.
“Natasha, I need to go. I’m sorry but this is a bad time, go to bed and sleep it off.” He lets his phone slide, catching it with his free hand and hitting the red button before pushing it into his back pocket. He leans in to try and angle his face to mine, but I gaze off at the bedroom door instead.
“You’re pissed.” He states flatly. Still not letting me loose. I just shrug and pop popcorn in my mouth instead and act like I really don’t give a shit. Simmering like a volcano inside, but coolly calm on the surface. Still avoiding his gaze and trying not to erupt, even though everything inside of me wants to. This is the only difference between us since coming back together. I don’t tell him how I am feeling when it comes to Natasha, sometimes in general and I know I should be. There is still that part of me that isn’t ready to fully let him in yet; an insecure and scared portion of my heart that is terrified he will hurt me again. I know Natasha is a topic that I deliberately don’t broach because I am too scared to just come out with it and tell him to choose. My brain keeps reminding me that he picked her over me and part of me is insecure that if I lay down an ultimatum he will again. Even though I know it’s dumb as hell to even believe it. Insecurity is a messy, shitty thing and logic has no place where it is concerned. “Why?” He nudges me, urging me to look at him. I roll my eyes at him and shrug his hands off me. Making a move towards the bedroom impassively with no desire to even talk about this. I’m glad he hung up on her and now I want him to leave me alone, so I can hate on him in peace.
“Don’t give me the silent treatment. You’re pissed because she called, right? I have no control over that!” He sounds irritated too and I realize he’s also been drinking tonight, that drunk or even tipsy Arrick is less patient and less understanding. He takes on a much colder and easily agitated version of himself that I can see was probably how he got through being such an asshole in his teens and using and abusing girls. I probably wouldn’t have liked him much back then, but thankfully when I met him, he seemed to calm almost instantly. I guess I met him at the right stage of his life.
“Yes, you do!” I snap, all anger bursting forth. Despite telling myself to hold all this in, it has somehow wormed its way out. “You can stop being so goddamn nice and pandering to her! You broke up months ago!” I slam the popcorn down on the coffee table, spilling a huge chunk of it, along with my napkins and straw, turning on him in sheer frustration. “Tell her to leave us alone.” It comes out like a spoiled childish stamp my foot moment and I curse the cocktails I had with dinner for making me like this. Equally shit when I drink, in totally different ways to him. I get irrational, impulsive and emotionally unstable and start tantrumming like a two year old.
Arrick stands stiffly, and watches me silently, that flat calm demeanor coming into play instantly, which only sparks my fury more. I hate when he takes on this stance of no emotion because I know a lecture or argument is coming, and he is about to make me feel about twelve years old.
I hate when he does that.
“It takes more than a few weeks to get over two years, you have no clue how hard this is for her, what she lost and is losing. It was a full-on relationship. I was her best friend, we talked about everything and she confided in me about everything, Sophie. I walked away and left her alone at a time when she needs someone to be there for her.” He is a little too deadpan for that statement, and I want to throat punch him for not realizing how much of an idiot he is. He really cannot see the irony in what he is saying, that he left me alone, despite all of that. He really is stupidly dense to not see that right now.
“It’s called life! I know about being alone and having no one, and I survived. She will get over it, but not if you keep letting her infiltrate our lives.” Tears begin to sting my eyes and I bite them down, not wanting this, but now we are here I am not about to fall to pieces over it in front of him. Fueled by anger at this, her, his stupidity sometimes. I honestly feel like throwing my hands at his face and beating some sense into that thick Carrero skull.
“You’re being insecure and jealous, nothing more. Natasha isn’t a threat, she doesn’t have anything to get between us with; she just needs a friend. You know I can’t stand jealous women, Sophie.” He walks off towards his study at the left of us and seems to dismiss me with a look. I erupt in good old-fashioned fiery hell hath no fury. The part of me that has been dormant since Leila’s party. He has no clue how much of an asshole that sentence just made him.
“Fuck you. Stop talking down to me like I’m a fucking child! I hate it when you do that.” I scream at him; seeing him stop and tense, he turns harshly, shocked by my sudden outburst and acting like a typical man. I can already tell the response is not going to be full of sweet nothings. That little tight muscle tense on his jaw, brows lowering and angry green glare.
“Stop behaving like a fucking child then. She is in pain and you’ve already got me. There is no need for any of this bullshit!” He yells back, eyes burning with rage and seething so instantly, it makes me lose all courage. My lip wobbles as the tears break free and run down my face, because of my one of two responses to him ever yelling at me. Cry or fight and this time it chooses to be the pitiful reaction. So severely disappointed in myself, but I really have no control over what path my emotions choose.
Arrick grits his teeth, sighing and frowning hard but walks towards me anyway, his body bristling with temper, but that part of him that cares about me is obviously reigning supreme. He hates seeing me cry, even if pissed off and it’s that nice guy side to him that is caving right now.
“Don’t cry. I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He reaches for me, despite the anger still brimming between us and pulls me in as his arms to envelope me. There is no soft affection in the embrace, only a need to make me stop crying, but obviously, he’s still majorly pissed and consoling me out of duty. His arms around me are not comforting and snug, they hang loosely about me as he half-heartedly pats my back.
“I’m going to bed.” I break free of his arms, hating how false it feels and push him away. Insides twisting up in agony and so close to bawling into hysterics. He doesn’t fight me on it, just lets me go and watches me gather up the stuff from the table and walk away. I can still feel his penetrating gaze on my back as I walk in the door and kick it closed behind me in a little hostile flag of ‘I still hate you’.
I roll over in bed, aware he has followed me after twenty minutes in the dark, my tray dumped and lights and TV off, due to my low mood. Not wanting to eat or watch any shitty romances anymore.
The bed dips as Arrick’s body slides in beside me; we have gotten into a routine of sharing a bed, with me staying here or him staying with me almost every night and cuddling up. This is the first time I have been in bed before he has come in, since the first few days. He slides his arms around my still body, oblivious to the fact I am awake and buries his face in my hair behind me. I stay still, heart still bruised and even though the tears have dried externally, I am still crying inside. So much anger and sadness mixed up together.
“Sophie?” He whispers softly, voice hoarse and tender with no hint of anger anymore, wrapping himself around me snugly so that every part of him fits me. I try to stay still and not react. Still upset and unwilling to let him know I am even listening, not sure what I even want to say anymore. “I know you’re awake, I can tell.” He nudges me softly with his knee, a gentle Arry mannerism that makes the pain in my chest soften a little. Aching to be normal with him again and not lie here feeling this miserable. I sigh and turn a little to acknowledge him. Wrapped up tight in his embrace yet still feeling closed off and alone.
“What is it?” I whisper back icily, trying to keep the fact I was crying for an age from my voice. I don’t like letting him see when he hurts me. A part of me that has changed since we got back together. I know it’s stupid to hide when he wounds me, but it’s like a defensive knee-jerk reaction. Not letting him see my vulnerability is all connected somehow to how crazily messed up I still am and cannot even decipher it.
“I’m sorry. I hate fighting with you, baby. I’m trying to distance myself from her, Sophs, it’s not that easy. I don’t want to be cruel. I need you to understand and not give me a tough time on this.” He sounds hurt, anger gone, and just my soft gentle Arry lying in the dark with me. Winning me back around like he always does, smoothing over bruised feathers and reminding me how grateful I should be that I even have him at all.
I turn in his arms and push my face into his neck, feeling him adjust so he can hold me this way and try so hard to let this go, so I can feel better. He pulls me in close and runs his fingers down my shoulder and back up my spine through my tank top. Nestling close to me and finding a comfy position to sleep with entangled bodies, which is the way he likes us to be.
“I love you, Mimmo. So much.” He murmurs sleepily, obvious that he thinks we are okay, despite my saying nothing except cuddling close. My head and emotions battling one another and dried tears still stinging my face as new ones threaten to fall.
Maybe it’s lack of experience in life and love, maybe I am an immature child, and this is why I can’t understand this. Arrick has always been someone who cares about people and I know this is at the root of why he is just so willing to let Natasha hold on, but now with the weeks passing by, I am starting to doubt this as the sole reason.
Natasha had been his life, he loved her. She had been his future. He chose to go back to her before he came for me and a part of me wonders if maybe, just maybe, he is having second thoughts and is the one who won’t let her go."
