That’s what I tell myself, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. Neither does the rest of the pint of Rocky Road; now I just feel sick.
So what? I ask myself as I pull on my most comfortable pair of pajamas and climb into bed. So what if you’re climbing into bed alone? It’s better that way. My old routine is comfortable, familiar. It involves sweats and soft pajamas. It doesn't involve someone disrupting Olivia’s routine, disrupting my workday with his stupid muscles and lame grin and disrupting my evening routine with his stupid cock. And his cooking. I was going to gain twenty pounds from all that cooking anyway.
So, it’s better this way, I think as I pull the comforter up around my chest. Totally.
Tons better.
So much better I could cry.
***
“You’re going to spoil her,” I say, shaking my head. “You know she expects ice cream every time we come here now.”
Connie C. laughs. “Good,” she says. “You can understand how this is a smart business move for me, then. I grow my customers from the very beginning.”
“You’re a tricky old woman,” I say, sliding my basket up on the counter.
“My husband tells me the same thing," she says, with a laugh. "Oh, and you were great at the town hall meeting the other night, you know. Very well-spoken, my dear."
I wasn't going to get involved in small-town politics, but then I'd gotten another visit from a couple of guys from the mining company, wanting to make an offer on my land, do some more testing, and that was that. I decided that thinking about something bigger than myself would be the best thing right now.
Connie helps me to the car with my bags, and I’m putting them in when I see Luke, talking to a girl right on the sidewalk not more than twenty feet in front of me. He looks up, and I stare at him, and both of the assholes look at me like I have three heads.
I’m fuming, my hands practically shaking as I open the car door, sliding behind the steering wheel as Luke heads for me, jogging down the sidewalk. I’m putting the car in reverse, planning to get the hell out of there, when he reaches me. He knocks on the car window, and I don’t roll it down. “I’m leaving,” I say.
“Autumn,” he says, knocking on the window. “Don’t be like this.”
I can’t help it now. I roll the window down and look at him. “Don’t be like what, Luke?” I ask, my voice trembling. “You send me a couple of text messages and a new foreman over to my house? That’s how you quit?” I say quit, like it’s only his job I’m talking about, except I’m clearly not. Quit us is what I mean.
Except there is no us. There never was.
That was all in my head.
I’m not sure if I’m more disgusted with him for how immature he is, or with myself for how stupid I obviously still am.
“Autumn,” he says, his jaw clenched. “I – that wasn’t what it looked like. There’s not – damn it.”
“You don’t owe me any explanation, Luke,” I say. “There’s really nothing you can say. Besides, it’s no big deal. A blip on my radar.”
“Autumn, it was a big deal to –“
“Save it,” I say, holding up my hand. “Out of sight, out of mind, right? At least from my perspective. Now, I need to get my child home for a nap, so if you’d kindly move out of the way so I don’t have to back over your feet with my car, I’d greatly appreciate it.”
Look straight ahead, I tell myself. And that’s what I do. I look straight ahead, ignoring him, hiding behind my sunglasses as I back out of my parking space and drive away. It’s only afterward, when I look at him in my rear view mirror, that my eyes well up with tears.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Luke
“Is that the girl?” Tempest asks.
“I don’t want to fucking talk about it.” I’m filled with anger and self-loathing. I hate that I’ve made Autumn hate me. And I hate that she was so damn casual about the whole thing, like what happened between us was no big deal at all. I hate that she looked at me, that she thought I was standing here with Tempest because I was with Tempest.
“You should go to her,” Tempest says.
“It’s none of your damn business,” I say. “Now, are we putting on a show here or not?”
Tempest shakes her head and hands me a business card, fake, with the name of the rival energy company on it. “In case you’re interested,” she says.
“I’m not interested,” I say loudly. “My family’s property isn’t for sale, not to you or anyone.”
I can see one of the ladies from the hair salon not ten feet away, standing in the door salon, staring at us. Good.
“We’re done here,” I say loudly.
“If you change your mind,” Tempest calls after me, as I walk away.
***