Seven Years

thrown my way, but today was one of those off days when rolling with the punches just meant getting beat up.

It usually did at this time of year.

I wiped away my tears and stood up, straightening out the wrinkles in my skirt. I’d been mistaken for a waitress on more than one occasion while wearing our uniform—and that was a compliment. Nobody was impressed when I told them I sold candy for a living, especially not anyone with two kids and a mortgage. My white skirt stopped two inches above my knees, paired with a tight-fitting orange shirt. To top off the ensemble, we wore white aprons and looked like we’d been slaving away in some magical candy kitchen, creating fantastical sugary treats.

We opened a bag and poured candy in a jar. End of story.

Our boss emphasized presentation: perfectly aligned canisters, attractive displays, and a well-groomed staff. He even gave us plastic hairclips to use if we wore our hair up. Cherries, orange slices, or little multicolored candies were our options.

Needless to say, I always wore my hair down.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Alexia?” April asked, touching my shoulder as I walked by.

“I’m outta here,” I announced, grabbing my purse from the drawer behind the register and digging for my keys. “You coming?”

“I’m going to be five more minutes,” she said from behind me. “Go ahead and take off.”

“Okay. Just remember…”

“Yeah?”

A lump formed in my throat. “Just remember you’re taking my shift tomorrow.”

“Will do. Remember you’re taking mine on Saturday,” she sang melodically.

Damn. Saturdays sucked. The store was like a zoo because we were located near a pizza shop, not to mention the movie theater was just a short walk up the street. Parents often dropped their kids off in herds, and telling a bunch of rowdy eleven-year-olds to behave when their moms weren’t around was an exercise in futility.

“I won’t forget,” I replied with a sarcastic smile. “Can’t wait.”

“Liar.”

The silver bell at the entrance jingled as the door closed behind me.

Then the sight of my own damn car made me want to start crying all over again. “What the hell is wrong with you, Lexi? Can’t you keep it together for one day? It’s not even the day and you’re already a hot mess,” I muttered.

“Alexia!” April yelled out. Only my close friends and family called me Lexi, but at work and otherwise, I went by my full name.

April held her thumb and pinky finger up to her face in that universal “you’ve got a phone call” gesture.

“Now what?” I murmured. My stomach knotted because nobody called me this late. It was well known I was probably the only twenty-something living in Austin without a cell phone. But hey, I never liked being accessible.

“Who is it?” I asked, walking past her to the counter. We had one of those ancient rotary phones, except ours had push buttons. Charlie, our boss, liked the retro look. There were small touches throughout the store and customers often shared memories of things they remembered from their own childhoods.

April eased up to the counter, blatantly eavesdropping to her heart’s content.

“Hello?”

“Lexi, it’s me. Let’s talk.”

The asshole.

“We don’t talk anymore, remember?” I bit out. Not since Beckett had cheated on me with another woman, in my car.

My car.

I’d put the car up for sale two days ago and hadn’t received a single inquiry. The thought of driving it made my stomach boil, and the memory of catching them having sex in it was unbearable. The whole thing was still fresh in my mind. Beckett’s Mustang had been in the shop, so I’d lent him my car. One night, a friend of mine swung by Sweet Treats and I asked her if she could give me a lift to the bar where Beckett worked. I wanted to surprise him and play a little air hockey until his shift ended.

We pulled into the parking lot of Ducky’s Dive, and as we passed my car, I yelled out for her to hit the brakes. It looked like a shadow was moving around inside, so I stuck my face up to the window. I saw Beckett stretched against the back seat with a brunette straddling him and riding him like a pony.

Oh yeah, it was over.

But not as over as when he saw me and panic flooded his eyes. I relished that moment, because it was the one that had “busted” written all over it. But that cheap little whore saw me and rode him even harder. He didn’t push her away because he wanted to finish off. He later claimed it was out of his control—that you simply cannot take a man to the edge of ecstasy and expect him to stop.

Whatever.

“Lexi, I’m two blocks away and we’re going to talk. It’s been two months and I think I’ve suffered enough.”

“Suffered?” I exclaimed. “Are you kidding me? You had sex with Rhoda, for God’s sake.”

Rhoda had been given the nickname “Rhoda Commoda” because she’d take her conquests into the bathroom and have sex in a stall.

“That woman’s had sex with every man this side of Texas. And you did it in the back seat of my car,” I reminded him. “This breakup isn’t a temporary thing until I get over being pissed off at you, Beckett. We’re over. As in, over and out.”

I slammed the phone down and lifted my purse over my shoulder. “I have to go, he’s on his way,” I said in a hurried voice, jogging out the door.

The engine of his electric-blue Mustang was gunning down the road so ferociously that I took off in a mad dash to my car. My coffee-colored hair tangled in the summer wind, and I stumbled in my new white sneakers, dropping my keys on the pavement. Just as I bent down, the front end of his car vaulted off the concrete as he jumped the curb. He had barely put it in park when the door swung open.

“Lexi, come on. Don’t be pissed.”

Any words in my mouth disintegrated and turned into kindling for the fire raging inside me. I wanted to open my mouth and spit out a fireball, singeing all the pretty blond hairs on his oversized head. His arms stretched wide—large arms, because he bench-pressed free weights—and I felt corralled like a horse.

“Get out of my way.”

“Look,” he said calmly, “I know why you’re upset. Your brother—”

“You don’t know a damn thing about my brother; you never met him!” I screamed, pointing my finger. “Don’t you dare wave my past at me like some kind of party trick that’s going to make me vulnerable so you can try to smooth things over. You lied to me, cheated on me, and had sex in my car!”

“Dammit, Lexi, I’ll buy you a new fucking car if that’s the deal.”

A hard sigh flew out of my mouth and I walked around him. He grabbed my arm and I shoved him away. “Let go,” I said, fuming. “I’m warning you, Beckett. You do not want to mess with me tonight.”

His jaw clenched and he surrendered, holding up his hands. “Fine. But we’re going to talk,” he said slowly, meaningfully, in a way that said we both knew this wasn’t over.

“Fine,” I lied. It wasn’t fine, and we were definitely over.

April lingered by the door, cupping her elbows with a wistful look in her eyes that expressed her desire for a man who would tear up his prized vehicle to stop her from running away. She didn’t mind about the cheating part and had once declared that no man could be faithful to just one woman. I wasn’t having much luck disproving her theory, but I wanted to believe integrity and honor existed. Her acceptance of that lie would only make her a doormat for love. Never expect anything less than devotion from someone who has claim on your heart.

That’s why I cut Beckett off like a malignant mole.

The key slid in the lock and the cheap vinyl creaked when I sat on it. I glanced in the rearview mirror at the