I’ll tell her, all right. I plan to tell her a lot of things. It’s her turn to have the rug pulled out from under her.
Ellie
A bowl of buttery popcorn sits on my lap as I flip through every station on the television, struggling to find something to watch. I’m unable to make a decision about anything lately because nothing in my life makes sense right now. It can’t, not without Gunnar.
I feel bad for not showing up to his game tonight, but I’m still too angry at him. Too … hurt. He said some crappy things the other day and I am not ready to forgive him just yet.
I knew he was going to be caught off guard. I expected it and even braced myself for it, but I did not expect him to react the way he did. As disappointed and hurt as I am, I will not let it stop me from living my life. I’m ready for this. Ready to be a mom.
And not because I am bored.
The remembered jab strikes my heart as painfully as it did the first time.
I shove it aside, refusing to shed any more tears over it. Instead, I focus on the television before me and settle on a thriller to watch, deciding it matches my vibe at the moment. It’s also Gunnar’s favorite genre. Not that I care …
I get about ten minutes into it when a loud thump suddenly lands on my front door, followed by the sound of the handle jiggling as someone tries to enter.
Fear paralyzes me for all of a moment. With my heart in my throat, I grab my phone and start to dial 911 when knocking ensues.
“Elle, it’s me, open up.” Gunnar’s booming voice penetrates the panic rushing in my ears.
My frantic heart rate slows when I realize a killer isn’t trying to enter my home, but that fear is quickly replaced with several other emotions, the most prominent one being anger and it only grows as the pounding continues.
Throwing my blanket off, I stomp toward the door. I don’t worry about my appearance of a messy bun and super short black yoga shorts. I do, however, wish I wasn’t wearing this stupid jersey, with his stupid number on it, that I wear to his stupid games. If I thought I had time to change without losing my door, I would, but his excessive beating threatens to take the entire thing off its hinges.
“Come on, Elle. I know you’re in there,” he bellows impatiently. “You either open this door right now or I’ll break it down. Your choice.”
Furious by the ultimatum, I flip the deadbolt back and swing the door open with a snap. “What?”
My sudden presence startles him, his eyes widening briefly before he masks it with a glare. His narrowed gaze sweeps over me from head to toe until it locks with mine in a battle of fury. “Where the hell have you been?” he snaps, his tone dripping with accusation. “You said you were coming to the game.”
I manage to keep my composure, adopting a careless demeanor. “Yeah, well, I changed my mind.”
He straightens, clearly affronted by that response. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really,” I mock snidely, knowing I’m being childish, but I’m too angry to care. “I can do that, you know? Change my mind. Make life decisions without you.” The last remark slips out before I can stop it.
“And what about Bear?” he counters, knowing exactly where to strike. “He sat all alone in this ridiculous jersey you got him, looking like an absolute fool.”
Bear barks, backing him up. I look down at where he sits next to Gunnar’s feet and feel guilt twist in my chest, knowing he didn’t deserve my absence.
Kneeling down, I open my arms. “Come here, Bear.”
He charges forward, knocking me onto my back in his excitement, and licks my face like a lollipop.
Laughing, I sit up and hug him tight. “Sorry, I wasn’t there for you tonight, boy,” I murmur. “Next time I’ll pick you up and bring you here, then we can both ditch Gunnar, okay?”
Woof.
Gunnar grunts, clearly unamused by that plan, and then tries walking in behind Bear.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Jumping to my feet, I push him back a step, my hand remaining on his hard chest. “Bear is allowed in here, but not you, buster. I’m still not talking to you.”
His gaze sharpens further. “Then you can listen because I have shit to say to you.” Removing my hand from his chest, he storms past me.
Oh, the nerve.
Closing the door, I cross my arms over my chest. “Fine. Hurry up and say whatever it is you came to say then leave.”
It’s hard for me to say that to him, to keep this anger in place, especially when I really want to jump into his arms and tell him how much I’ve missed him, but I manage to stay strong.
His dark honey-brown eyes soften for the briefest moment as if he’s about to tell me his deepest, darkest secret, but it vanishes as quickly as it came. “You took my hat and I want it back.”
My heart deflates that it’s not the apology I was hoping for. The one I deserve.
Shaking my head, I go grab his hat off the kitchen table, then walk back over and slap it against his chest. “Here. Now leave.”
I begin my retreat, desperate to escape as tears threaten to spill, but I don’t make it far before he snags my wrist and pulls me into his arms, the warmth and strength of his embrace breaking through my defenses.
“I’m sorry, Elle,” he murmurs, his tone thick with regret. “Really sorry.”
The sincerity in his voice drives home every word, morphing my anger into heartbreak. The dam breaks, sending the first of many tears streaming down my face.
“You really hurt me,” I cry.
He hugs me closer, his arms tightening around me. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m a shitty best friend. The shittiest of shit, and I don’t deserve you, but I’m here to make it right.”
