I am a bit irritated she’s going to make me say it. This is hard enough without having to spell it out any more distinctly. I asked her if she still had feelings for Liam, and she still hasn’t answered.
“If you are in love with my son, that would be a reason that I should step aside, don’t you think? Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I was wrong to go after you in the first place, but I don’t regret it either. One minute with you has made any pain related to us worth it. I’m warning you now, I’m fighting to keep you. No matter what, Baby Bird, you’re mine.”
Her confused look on her face morphs into a full-blown scowl. “You’re an ass. I love you, but you’re an idiot. I know I’ve been off, and I can’t explain it exactly, because I don’t understand it myself. But you need to get this clear right now. I am not in love with Liam. You are right that there are some lingering feelings. I’ve tried not to, but when he relapsed, I was hit in the face with all the anger I felt a decade ago. I don’t know what it means that I’m still as pissed today as I was then. I thought I’d moved on, but I just can’t stop hating him. I know you want us all to get along, but I can’t stand him being around. It feels like acid churning through my body, but I burn with rage.”
That gives me a jolt. I can hear the vibrations in her voice. She’s not telling me what I want to hear, because I’m fairly sure she knows that I don’t want this. I want her indifference, or familial affection for him, not her rage.
That’s not the point right now. My Baby Bird is suffering; I can see that. It makes me feel so powerless, not knowing how to help her.
“What can I do?” I eventually gather the courage to ask.
“Just keep loving me,” she says in a soft, quiet voice.
“That’s something I’ll never stop doing,” I promise her.
Chapter Nineteen
Wren - Present
“What didthose potatoes do to you?” Bess asks, making me jump.
“I’m making mashed potatoes,” I say.
It’s been less than a week since Griffin and I faced his fears in the backyard of my childhood home. He’s been a lot lighter lately. I guess realizing his wife wasn’t longing for his son took a lot off his shoulders. I’m still dealing with the existential noise in my head.
Bess reaches across the bowl and pulls the masher out of my hand. “Mashed potatoes, not potato soup. How about we use our words instead of choosing violence?”
She takes the bowl away from me. “It’s not your fault, really. Griffin should have known better than to let you cook.”
The screen door bangs against the frame. “It was mashed potatoes. How could she mess that up?” Griffin asks as he comes in.
Bess grabs the bowl and holds it up for him to see. “It’s a mystery, yet here’s the proof.”
He shrugs unbothered. I tried to learn how to cook, but I could never maintain the interest, not to destroy most of what I’ve tried to make. But I’d been able to boil water, maybe make some pasta. It’s not a far jump from macaroni to potatoes, at least that’s what I thought.
Griffin might be feeling better about my feelings for Liam, but I’m not. I don’t like hating him. I don’t like thinking about him at all. Sometimes I even resent Griffin, because I can’t cut Liam out of my life. I’m not sure I ever really dealt with this anger in the first place, to be honest. If I had, then Bess wouldn’t be holding up a bowl of potato soup.
Probably. To be fair, I am angry, but I also can’t cook.
She sets it to the side and gives me a knowing look. After a decade of friendship, she can read me better than almost anyone. The exception is Griffin, of course. With the exception of thinking I was in love with his son, he’s usually pretty perceptive.
Like any good bestie, she speaks up and says the things I’m too chicken shit to say out loud. She thinks at least. He knows I don’t want to be around Liam, and should know that I don’t want to be throwing a party to celebrate Liam’s current round of sobriety.
“So, Griff…You know, Liam wasn’t my favorite person all those years ago, but we’ve all mostly let all that go. I mean, we’re not tight or anything. Let’s just say, if MySpace was still a thing, he wouldn’t make my top eight, feel me? Still, until this slip-up, we’ve all been going about life on cruise control. I think we’ve spent enough time covering up and racing past problems, don’t you?”
Griffin looks past her at me and cocks an eyebrow. “Baby Bird, mind translating? Ten years and I still can’t understand pissed off pixie.”
I shrug. Truthfully, I don’t really know my own mind right now, let alone deciphering whatever weirdly insightful babble Bess just spewed out. Yes, Griffin and I talked. Kinda. He knows now that I’m not pining after my ex-husband, and that, well, I kind of hate him again. At least that means I’m not in love with him, which only comforts Griff because I already knew that. I’m not sure what I actually feel, but I know that love isn’t what this is. I don’t want to hate anyone, and I just don’t really know why this relapse is triggering me so badly.
“We’re all just tense. Claudia didn’t agree to come tonight, did she?”
I’m not sure I’m up for the game of pretending we’re all cool. I have no reason to be upset with her. She wasn’t the one to have an affair with Liam when we were married. That was all my former best friend. Still, something about her he finds easier to treat with kindness than he did me. Although maybe she’s just really good at hiding things. Lord knows there was a lot that I didn’t let the world see when I was married to him.
For a day, I thought that Griff was starting to see what was going on. I hoped at least that he knew I needed some space from Liam. Apparently, though, telling him that I hate his son means hosting another family dinner, so we have no choice except to play nice.
“She said she’d think about it when I called yesterday to follow up. If she’s not ready to see him, I won’t force her,” he replies.
“Lucky her,” I mumble under my breath.
