“What?”
He tipped his head to the espresso machine. “Large Americano, please.”
Every week after, he came in and ordered the same, silently watching me from the end of the counter, making sure I didn’t crumble.
Now, I would never have that again.
“Excuse me,” I whispered, my feet already moving.
Dominic said something, maybe he called my name. I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was that I needed air. When I entered the kitchen, Carrie and Grayson were heading back into the living room. They smiled at me, but I nearly failed as I returned my practiced one to them. Carrie’s steps faltered, her smile falling, but thankfully, Rossy called out to me.
“Margo, there you are, darling,” he said from in front of the stove. “You mentioned earlier that you were cold. Would you like a cup of tea?”
I looked down to the wine in my hand and then to Carrie, whose blue eyes were brimming with concern. “Uh, sure, boss man. Thanks,” I muttered, quickly moving to the sink and dumping my wine, my best friend right on my heels.
He left you.
You’ve never been good enough for anyone.
Why would he want you, Margo?
You’re trash.
“Margo?” Carrie called quietly.
“Is she all right?” Rossy asked.
I braced my hands on the countertop and closed my eyes. “Yeah,” I pushed out. “I’m good. I just need…”
Three seconds.
I had to get a handle on this—these feelings—and I needed three seconds to do it. The kettle began to whistle, and half a second later, the oven dinged, the low rumble of conversations flowing in from the living room. Then the music clicked on, the sound of smooth jazz filling the already noisy space, adding to my torture. I could feel the walls closing in, the voice in my head sneering.
I shouldn’t be here. It was too much. All of this was too much.
I needed three seconds. Just three little seconds—outside.
“I’ll be right back,” I announced, unable to breathe. I turned and gave Carrie a thin smile. “I just need some air. It’s a little…crowded.” The lie fell from my lips with expert precision and the ghost of my father reared its ugly head, cackling with pride in the back of my mind.
You’re nothing like him.
You’re nothing like him.
You’re nothing like him.
Everything was closing in around me, black spots taking over my vision.
Given the trauma we’d endured together and everything Carrie had been through before running away to start a new life in Astoria, she would get the hint. Her face relaxed and she dipped her head to the back door. “Go. Take a breath.”
As soon as the cool autumn air hit my cheeks, my eyes began to burn, tears forming. I braced myself against the deck railing, chest heaving as I looked out at the river and the town below. The sun had set a few hours ago, the cool moonlight bouncing off the water. But it was the warm streetlights of Astoria that beganto ground me in a way. “You’re okay,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “You’re okay. It’s all going to be okay.”
His voice hit me then, calling out to me like a lighthouse in the middle of a raging storm. Waves crashed against me, wanting to pull me under. But his voice had the power to keep me afloat. “Margo.”
I lifted my head, gasping for air, Astoria and the dark water beyond now a blur.
“Jesus,” Hayes bit off from behind me, his heavy footsteps following.
I felt his warm, rough hand on the bare skin of my shoulder, and then all I saw was him, his golden light speckled with green. His hands went to either side of my neck, his thumbs hooking under my jaw, tipping my head back. “Look at me,” he commanded. “Focus on me.”