Almost.
Jitter doesn’t bark much. He’s a good puppy. And while the walls are thin, other than Sabrina’s nightly toothbrush routine that I try to avoid, I only hear the soft noises of phone conversations or the TV on without being able to hear distinct words.
Not that she’s home much.
She’s as much a social butterfly as I am a hermit-in-training.
She doesn’t turn on the television now though.
No, that’s an entirely different sound coming through the wall, and it’s one that makes my heart freeze.
Crying.
I stare at the stairwell on the wall separating my living room from what I assume is Sabrina’s living room.
“Oh, my sweet girl,” an unfamiliar woman says. “Oh, honey. Come here. It’ll be okay.”
“She’s so mad at me, Mom. She practically ran away as soon as she saw me.”
Jitter whines.
My gut twists and I angle closer to the wall.
“She’s working through a lot of things right now,” Sabrina’s mom says.
“She used to work through them with me. Both of us. Laney and me.”
“Is she talking to Laney?”
“I don’t know. She’s talking to Theo. So she’s at least seeing Laney. And Laney told her what Chandler did. I didn’t. I should’ve told her.”
“Sabrina—”
“I should have told her. And I didn’t. And now she hates me.”
That’s not just my gut twisting.
It’s my heart.
I shouldn’t listen to this. It’s not my business. Not my place.
But she’s hurting.
I know that hurt. The sting of rejection. Of regret. Of helplessness.
And I want to hug her.
I want to hug her and soothe her and find a way to take away the pain, even knowing how dangerous she could be if she decides to use everything she learns against me to get me to leave this place without the satisfaction of seeing Chandler’s reaction to me destroying what was once his.
“She’s basically the most non-famous famous person in the world right now, and not for a flattering reason,” her mom says. “Give her time. She has a lot on her plate.”
“I’ve never not known what to say to her before. I’ve never not known what to say to anyone before.”
“You’ve both had a lot of hard change lately. Don’t expect yourself to be the same person you were two weeks ago either.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sabrina.”
“I am. I deserve this, so I’ll take my punishment.”
Shame and regret twist my heart region.
I’m punishing her.
She’s the accidental bystander in my quest for justice.
I’m hurting her.
“You do not deserve punishment,” her mom says. “Your heart was in the right place, and you did what you thought was right.”
“I just wish—I just wish I could go back and make Emma not hate me.”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“I hate myself. If I’d said something ten years ago, she’d be happily married, living the life of her dreams with someone who didn’t go from a decent guy with potential to a complete asshole.”
I take exception to the idea that Chandler Sullivan was ever a decent guy. And more than once this week, I’ve wondered what a woman that everyone seems to adore ever saw in him.
“Or Emma would be married to someone who’s terrible with kids and in an even worse situation now,” her mom says. “You can’t second-guess the past, and you have to believe good things are coming.”
The dog whines again. Actually, I’m not sure he’s stopped whining.
Jitter’s hurting because Sabrina’s hurting, and I’m hurting because they’re both hurting.
The worst part?
It would be so easy to despise her as much as I despise Chandler.
She has everything I’ve ever wanted.
Friends. Family with one black sheep instead of a whole crumbling mansion full of them. Community. Home. A mission and purpose that she’s never had to question and never had taken from her.
Until now. Until me.
I could hate her for making me second-guess everything I thought I stood for.
“I’m second-guessing everything I thought I stood for,” Sabrina says.
I jolt and stare at the wall.
Did I—did I make that up?
Did she just say exactly what I was thinking?
Their voices fade.
I angle closer to the wall, straining to hear while a familiar sick feeling churns in my stomach.
Shame.
I am the assholiest of all assholes.
I’m hurting her.
And I know it.
And I can’t stop.
The world isn’t balanced.
My world isn’t balanced.
It wasn’t until maybe four years ago, while I was still married to Felicia, that I consciously realized my siblings and parents were nearly through their trust funds. That when they manipulated me into using my ever-growing bank account, it wasn’t old habits to blame and shame me for being an accidental inconvenience in their lives. They needed the cash I was raking in from my patent to save face in front of their friends.
Having Zen show up on my doorstep asking for a place to live without judgment was the biggest wake-up call of my life.
Second-biggest was falling in love with Felicia only to realize when Zen moved back from college that my wife was playing me more than my family ever had, wanting me to be someone else. Dress like this. Remodel your lab’s lobby like that. Someone needs to talk to Zen about that outfit. And about getting a real job. Your assistant? Seriously? You know how this looks, right?
Because looks were everything.
But not to Zen.
Zen taught me family.
Uncle Grey, you ever think about how rude it is for our parents to remind us of all of the basic needs of ours that they met when we were kids, despite us not asking to be born to them? I would’ve picked one of those reality TV families over this one, and I hate reality TV. And being on it. I assume, anyway.
Uncle Grey, what do you do when your siblings treat you like you’re an inconvenience despite the fact that you go out of your way to send birthday cards every year and ask about their friends and their dreams and their lives in a way they never ask about yours?
Uncle Grey, you really shouldn’t let them take advantage of you like that. You know the only reason they wanted you to marry Felicia was because her father promised Aunt Camille an introduction to his royal relatives, right?
Uncle Grey, this is who I am, and Felicia won’t change me, no matter how much she tries.
They see things that I always accepted, and they challenge the way they’re treated. They challenge the way I’m treated.
They challenge the meaning of family.
And I thought I understood, but understanding and taking a leap to trust people again are two completely different things.
Can I?
Can I risk letting someone destroy me all over again in the name of doing good instead of justice?
I might not be from a small town, but I know how gossip works.
I know Sabrina could turn the town against me with a single sentence. Probably no more than three well-thought-out words.
And instead, I have a fridge stocked with food courtesy of new neighbors or local restaurants, all of whom gave me discounts. We’ve received welcome gifts from other neighbors and shop owners, including six bottles of wine, two loaves of homemade bread, dozens of cookies and cupcakes, bags of vegetables, and a jar of local honey that has me intrigued but unable to track down the source just yet.
We’ve barely been here a week, and they’re taking care of us despite us doing nothing to deserve it.
I press my ear to the wall, straining to hear more of the conversation between Sabrina and her mother, but all I detect is silence.
Are they in the kitchen?
Is she making more coffee?
She hasn’t been more than three feet from a coffee cup or mug anytime I’ve seen her this week. She seems to live off the stuff, which shouldn’t be charming, but it is.
She lives what she says she loves.
But I don’t hear coffee maker sounds either.
Does she know I can hear her?
Are they talking about the café and my plans for it?
I deserve this, so I’ll take my punishment.
The number of times I thought that to myself when I was growing up…
I can’t do this.