I collapse onto my bed, tears still flowing. I pick up my phone twice to call my friends, but I just know Lani will be all 'give him another chance; it’s sweet that they did everything to try to get you to see what was right in front of you.' Margo will tell me I’m being irrational. I definitely don’t want to hear any of that tonight. I want to stay cloaked in my self-righteous anger a little longer.
So I call Prue, who is at my door in ten minutes with a bottle of wine that I can’t drink, just in case, and a bakery box that I know is full of cupcakes from Sprinkled With Sugar. Those I can have… at least two, I decide. Heartbreak means calories don’t count. At least that’s what Margo says.
“Tell me what happened and who I need to kill,” Prue says the moment she sees I’ve been crying. “That bastard hurt you, didn’t he? Tell Auntie Prue what happened so I know just how bad to torture him before I put him down.”
I roll my eyes at her dramatic threats but instantly feel better, knowing that my friend is here and has my back no matter what. I give her a hug and take the box from her. I don’t start talking until after my first cupcake. Halfway through my story, Prue pours two glasses of wine. I shake my head declining it. I catch myself before my hand goes to my belly in a protective move, but my perceptive friend doesn’t miss it.
She looks from my face to my stomach and back again. “Did that bastard knock you up?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
I stand up and start pacing. “It means we haven’t exactly been using protection, okay?”
Prue looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head. Or maybe she’s having an aneurism. It’s hard to tell the difference.
“Alright,” she finally says. “Tell me the rest of it.”
So I do. I tell her how Grandma Ruth bought this house in an attempt to get me to fall in love with Carson, how he turned this house into my dream house to manipulate me. “They both manipulated me!” I cry, sounding a bit deranged even to my own ears.
Outside there is a car door slamming, and then headlights pull away down the street. I hear heavy footfalls on the porch. I can just imagine the look on his face when he sees his bag of stuff sitting on our porch—my porch, I correct. Then he’s knocking on the door.
“Go away, Carson,” I yell through a new wave of tears.
He knocks again. At least he’s not using his key. He’s at least respecting me enough to let me decide if he comes in or not. Even if he is being stubbornly persistent. “Ana, let me in, we need to talk.”
I shake my head no but can’t make the words happen. Prue rolls her eyes and gets up to open the door. She keeps her booted foot on the inside of the door, so it only opens a couple of inches.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you right now.”
I can’t hear what he says, but I have a feeling he’s laying the charm on thick, trying to get Prue to let him in. Thankfully my friend is loyal. Even though I can’t hear what they are saying because they are both talking in low voices, I know she’s not going to let him past her, and that’s what matters right now.
Finally, the door closes, and I can hear Carson retreating back to his own house. I instantly regret it. “What did you say to him?”
Prue gives a noncommittal shrug, “You know the usual threats to life and limb.” For some reason, I’m not so sure I believe her. She seems way to calm for having threatened him. I’m too tired to worry about it right now.
She stays for another hour, talking about the owner of the old bar at the edge of town that’s been closed for years. Some city boy bought it, and it needs a ton of work. Apparently, the new owner isn’t from around here and has no loyalty to hiring local businesses. She growls the last part. “Can you even believe that?”
I shake my head. If the new owner wants to get anywhere in this town, they better learn really quick that we are loyal to local businesses. There’s no better way to piss off the locals than to outsource things when there is someone right here in town that can do the work. The other thing that’ll get them blackballed is to open a business and buck the tradition of naming it after something sweet.
We talk until I’m yawning like crazy from exhaustion. Prue gives me a comforting hug and tells me everything will work out exactly how it’s supposed to… a very Margo thing to say, and I tell her so. She laughs. “Maybe you sentimental fools are rubbing off on me.”
As soon as she’s gone, I go to bed, hiding under my covers and feeling lonely without Carons in bed with me. It’s crazy how quickly I got used to not sleeping alone. I pull his pillow close to my chest and breathe in his scent. I finally fall into a fitful sleep.
12
Carson
Ana still refuses to talk to me. It’s been three days since I’ve seen her smile, and it’s killing me. She called in the last two days at the diner, and I’m starting to get worried. She never misses work. She’s been holed up in her house this whole time. The only life coming and going is Prue.
