Chapter 29
Ace
I slip the key into the door, pushing it open when it unlocks. The air around me is thick and stale from being closed for the past five days. I walk past the living room and up the stairs, dumping my bag on the bed. I shrug off my suit jacket and toss it on the made bed before kicking off my shoes and stepping into the shower.
My head is telling me to go and see Shelby. My heart aches to talk to her, yet my pride is fighting me all the way. Even when I put jeans on and a T-shirt, my hands itch to pick up my phone and call her. But instead of doing that, I open the fridge and see that it's empty. I grab my keys and head out to the pub to grab myself something to eat.
Parking the car, I get out and take the phone. Every single day it gets heavier and heavier with the need for me to just call her. I'm walking to the door, and my heart stops when I see her walking out just a couple of feet from me. She looks even more beautiful than she did the last time I saw her. She looks even more beautiful than in my dreams. She's fucking exquisite. I see her look behind her, and she smiles as she holds the door. My heart hammers in my chest, knowing she is so close to me. My hands get itchy to touch her, and my whole body feels like it can relax. She looks up and spots me. Her face goes a bit white, and her mouth opens, but my eyes go to the guy behind her smiling down at her. "Hi," I greet, not sure what to say or how to act.
"Ace," she says my name in a surprised tone.
"Hi," I say again like an idiot, and I look over at the guy who stands beside her with his hand on her lower back.
"This . . ." She starts to stutter. "This is Sergio." She turns to introduce him, and my hand grips the phone in my hand. My body that was so happy to see her has closed off. My heart that was beating hard in my chest has fallen to my stomach. "Sergio, this is my best friend, Ace."
He laughs from beside her. "Hopefully, next time we meet, she'll admit that she is on a date with me." The words stab me in the heart.
I look at him and then at her. "One can hope. If you excuse me, I have a call," I say, avoiding talking to her as I turn and walk away, not even giving her the time of day. I hear her calling my name, but I just walk to the car, my head going around and around. I don't even look back when I leave. My phone starts ringing, and I see on the screen that it's her. I press the decline button as I make it home.
I ignore the pounding in my head. I ignore the way my heart is about to burst out of my chest. I ignore the pain coursing through me while I walk to the cabinet and take the bottle of scotch out. I unscrew the top and take the longest gulp of my life. The burning is all the way down my chest. I put the bottle down and place my hands on the counter, making my head hang. "What the fuck?" I say to myself as soon as I hear a knock on the door.
I think about not answering, but my feet move faster than my brain. I open the door, and there she is, standing there. "It's not what it looks like," she says, her eyes filled with tears.
"It doesn't matter," I reply, shaking my head. Instead, I feel like I'm being drowned. Like someone is pushing my head underwater, and I can't come up. "You said that you didn't want this." I point at her and to myself.
"I never said that," she snaps and takes a step toward me, but I move back, and she stops moving. Her hand trembles, and I hate that I did this to her. Hate that my words hurt her like that. "I said that I didn't think it was a good idea for you to take me out on a date." I raise my eyebrows. "It is not what it looked like."
"At the end of the day, you said that you wanted to keep this a secret." I put it in my own words. "By you not wanting me to take you out on a date, that meant you wanted to be a secret."
"It's not that, I just . . ." She wipes away a tear, and if my heart didn't feel broken before, it does now. "I can't." I hold my hand up.
"I was cheated on and lied to." The words come out with no emotion in my voice. "And I'm not going to do that anymore." I swallow down the lump in my throat. "I'm sorry." I close the door in her face. My hand is still on the handle as my head falls forward. I close my eyes, listening to her car door slam before turning back and heading to the bottle of scotch.