“No,” I say.
Roarke shuffles from one foot to the other. It’s a nervous gesture I’ve seen him do in meetings. “I want to talk. Please, Carina. I promise not to come near you. I just want five minutes of your time.”
“How did you find me?” I ask. I know damn well with today’s technology you can never disappear completely. He’s known where I’ve been since I left him. I want to watch him squirm for an answer and to see if he’ll admit to violating the restraining order.
He swallows, looks behind him at the setting sun, and blows out a breath. “I don’t have time for that. The sun will set in twenty minutes. Five. Please, babe.”
I open the door and fold my arms across my chest. Roarke isn’t the most evil villain in my world anymore. How sick and twisted is that realization? “Talk,” I command. “And never call me that again.”
He blinks several times quickly, right in a row. Another nervous twitch. I’ve never seen these habits directed at me. I’ve never made him nervous, I suppose. He hasn’t met the new Carina. “I wanted to ask how you were doing. When it happened, I was so worried for you. You have to know I still think about you every day. I still love you. That didn’t go away. I’ve had all this time to think about what a horrible person I was. What I did to you,” he says, his voice breaking on the last syllable.
I can’t even look at him without feeling ill, so I look away. Maybe it’s because I’m tired, or because I miss Smith, or perhaps it’s because I’m reflecting my anger and guilt on him, but I don’t want to sugarcoat anything anymore.
“There was a time when you were the worst thing in my world. I worried about leaving the house because of you. Because of what you might do to me if I ran into you. I don’t miss you, Roarke. I definitely don’t still love you. It didn’t even go away,” I say. Looking at him seems important right now. I finish, “Because I never loved you in the first place. Not even one bit. You are a bad person. You aren’t reformed, Roarke. A bad thing happened in our world. A nasty, bad thing that makes men like you look like saints, but I’ll never forget what you did to me. The things you said when you weren’t even trying to be mean and vicious.” The lump in my throat appears, and it angers me. I want to tell him everything I should have said all those years ago. The first time he said something mean or condescending before he started beating me for invalid reasons.
I take a second to breathe. “Apologize if that’s what you came here for. Your mom will be happy if you get that out,” I say.
He hangs his head. “I’m sorry, Carina. I’m so sorry. I hope one day you’ll forgive me. I can’t ask you to forget the things I did to you. I never would. I am a bad person, you’re right. I’ve been talking to a therapist.”Because it’s court-ordered, I think. “And she says that I projecteda lot of my insecurities and problems onto you. I took it out on you. Because I loved you and trusted you.”
I roll my eyes. “Now is the part where you tell me you’ve found a new outlet for your negative energy and will never do what you did to me to another woman again. Am I getting warmer? Boxing? Running?”
He blows out a breath through his mouth. “You’re so different now.” He ignores my question because I’m right. A twinkle in his eye suggests I’m irritating him. I’m not afraid of it, though.
“How am I different? Now that I’m with someone who respects me? Wouldn’t dream of hurting me? Or am I different because I’m not a person who will take your bullshit anymore?”
“I guess,” Roarke says, shaking his head.
I start closing the door. “Sean will be here with my groceries any moment. I’m pretty sure the cops have better things to do than enforcing a restraining order.”
“You look good,” he says. “You don’t feel the same way, and I understand why, but it was good to see you. I’m glad you’re doing well.” Such menial talk from a man who has the ability to break bones with his words.
“Tell your mom not to call,” I reply. Shutting the door, I lock it. When I hear his vehicle start, I slide down my front door to sit.
Mentally, I pat myself on the back. Then seconds later I curse myself for all the things I should have said. It makes me so angry. My doorbell breaks me from theaudible tirade I’m having with my foyer.
“Oh, good,” I say when I open the door to Sean. “My groceries.”
He has four large, reusable sacks full. Walking into my kitchen, he sets them on the counter and turns to face me. I lost power for several days after the attacks, and I’ve slowly but surely built back up my freezer stash by way of Sean’s trips.
“How was the store?” I ask. “Is it still terrible out there?”
“You’re going to have to go out eventually, Carina.”
I start unpacking bags. “Don’t you start, too. I hear it all day on the news. I should go shopping like a million people didn’t die in horrific fashion, mind you, mere weeks ago. Don’t you tell me to return to normal life when I have to keep a pile of cash stuffed under my mattress.”
My writing is the only normal I’ve established.
“I started your car again,” he says, voice monotone.
“Thank you, Sean. I’m sorry. I’m in a mood right now.”Because of Roarke, I want to scream. How dare that rat bastard try to take anything else from me? Another breath would be asking too much. I’m so mad I’m practically seething.
He clears his throat. “Perhaps if you changed out of your pajamas, you’d feel better?”
My cloud of anger abates a touch.
“Hey!” I shout. “This is a dress. It’s as long as a dress,anyway.” I smile from ear to ear. “I was thinking of visiting Megan. Jasmine said she’s been transferred to a wing of the hospital that can have visitors now,” I explain.
Looking down at my bag of canned vegetables and fruits, I get even angrier. Fresh produce is a thing of the past. The TV tells me it won’t be long before the farmers are up and on the roads again transporting their goods to stores, but it feels like it’s been forever. These are the new First World problems.
