“Why are you sitting out here?”
“Thinking.”
“Okay, well, then I guess I’ll go inside and leave you to it.”
Cyrus didn’t say anything when I tried to go around him on the steps. Instead, he grabbed my hand and tugged me closer. His fingers wrapped around my wrist. My heartbeat kicked up, and I hoped he couldn’t feel it. He’d think I was having a heart attack.
“Don’t go inside yet.” I didn’t answer and instead plopped down on the step beside him. “Where’s Chris?”
“Beats me,” I said with a shrug. My days of keeping track of him were long gone, and today hadn’t changed that.
“Isn’t that why he was here, trying to get back with you?”
“Yeah, he had a sob story about how he’d seen the light, big mistake, blah blah blah. I think he got dumped and was bored.”
“Maybe he’s changed?”
“I didn’t get the impression you were much of a Chris fan. Was I wrong?”
“No, you were right. I’m not,” Cyrus answered with a shake of his head.
We lapsed back into silence. I didn’t really understand what was happening here. Cyrus sat on the steps, in the dark, looking like someone had kicked his puppy.
“I’m pretty annoyed with him anyway,” I offered.
“Why?”
“You mean besides the cheating?” Cyrus gave a magnanimous nod of his head, and I continued, “Because he ruined my plans for the day.”
“But you got a coffee out of it.”
“Yeah, with him. Having coffee with my ex wasn’t the highlight I wanted for my weekend. I wanted our plans.”
“Since you’re just getting home, I figured you were still with him.” Cyrus fiddled with the broken stick pile between his legs. “Kinda late if you’re not interested.”
“Yeah.”
There was no way I’d tell him the truth. How embarrassing would it be that I’d been back at the house within thirty minutes of leaving, had seen he’d already left, and I had spent the afternoon feeling sorry for myself at any place but home? I wanted the Daddy I knew Cyrus wasn’t. The one who’d read me a story, tuck me in, chestfeed me, and take my worries away.
I appreciated that Cyrus had never lied to me or pretended we were more than friends. Our friendship was just that, and he wasn’t my Daddy except for the occasional playdate. If I was going to get through this, that reminder had to be tattooed into my brain.
Tomorrow, I’d get through it. Tonight, I wanted to curl up with Plummie and feel sorry for myself.
“Good chat, but I’m heading to bed. It’s been a long day. I want a bath and my bed.”
I rushed to the door before I could convince myself that Cyrus looking sad had anything to do with me. He’d never made me a promise. The fact that I’d caught feelings was annoying and entirely my problem. I wasn’t going to burden him with that craziness.
“Yeah, good night.”
If I spoke, then my voice would crack, and he’d know. If he suspected I was upset, I’d never get inside before he got the problem out of me. Silence was golden. A quick nod, and I was out of there. Kinda rude, maybe, but absolutely necessary.
“Hey! Hey! Open up!”
The banging on my door woke me from exhausted sleep. My self-preservation plan of taking a bath and then going to bed hadn’t worked out at all like I’d planned. The bath was a bust because I’d forgotten it wasn’t fixed yet. The smallest bright spot was my adorable pajamas. They were covered in dancing ice cream cones. Very festive. Then, once I was in bed, sleep had taken the evening off, and I’d stared at the ceiling for hours.Hours.Plummie had been concerned but had stayed quiet and hadn’t offered any advice.
“Cyrus! What’s wrong? Is the house on fire?” I asked as I yanked the door open. Being jarred awake after finally falling asleep was unsettling.
“Yeah, no, sorry.”
