Between Desire and Denial: Chapter 33

The gruff voice of my father was irritable rather than loving when I picked up the phone call. “Knox wanted me to let you know he won’t be playing ball for the rest of this week.”

“Okay.” I dragged out the word in question. It was late in the day, but I pulled out my calligraphy supplies to work at the table in the dining room, holding the phone in the crook of my neck. “And why exactly couldn’t he just text me that?”

He scoffed at me like he was disgusted that I even asked. “Because he talked to his father instead. We have a lot of stuff going on, Olive. You can’t expect people to drop things just because you’re back home. It’s quite selfish if you ask me.”

“I’m being selfish?” The question bubbled up fast. I unscrewed the ink and slammed it down harder on the table than I would have liked.

“Why are you back here stirring all these things up? Doesn’t your friend Kee need you?” It was almost as if he was pushing me to leave.

“I’m here for Knox and—’

“You know, he’s trying to level out his medications, and your stepmother says you just keep calling him in the early morning hours to play basketball? He’s been helping me with business and needs rest. I can’t keep dealing with—”

“Wow,” I cut him off, hurt that Knox had told him that because it was true. I had called him but only because I thought we were on the same page. I laid out the different nibs and sat down at the table, trying to stay calm during the call. “I thought that—”

“I don’t care what you thought. We don’t want to be bothered with you. You shouldn’t be here.” His tone stabbed at my heart. Had I really let him down so much that he didn’t want me there ever? “My family needs stability right now.”

“Your family?” I inquired softly as I tested a new nib on the pen I’d ordered. The stroke I made was heavy and rough. I set down the pen and folded my fingers together, trying my best to cull the emotions rolling around inside me. You had to be delicate, precise, and handle calligraphy with care if you wanted the writing to come out perfectly, the flick of my wrist and the pressure on the paper changed every part.

“Yes. Georgette and Knox. So, leave him alone.” He said it with finality. No inclusion of his own daughter. And suddenly Lucille’s words started to make a bit of sense. Instead of feeling hurt and ignoring the anger, I embraced them both.

I narrowed my eyes on that heavy stroke of ink I’d made, feeling the anger of it. “What business are you two working on anyway?”

“It’s not your concern.”

The rage and prickle came out in my voice then. “It’s always my concern when it has to deal with my brother, Father. I won’t call him if he doesn’t want, but I’ll be here, ready to answer, when he calls me. I’m not going anywhere. You can bet on it.”

“You’re impossible,” my father retorted before he hung up on me.

And I think my heart broke in another way that night. My father had said I wasn’t a part of his family, and I accepted that as I stared out the window that night, but I felt the pain of the bond truly severing.

When I got another text from Dimitri, I ignored it.

Another day, another time to ignore.

The next day, he texted again.

Dimitri: You must still be stressed.

I got an alert then from an unknown number that the whole spa was booked for me next week and the message said, “Congrats on booking your spa day.”

I knew the culprit and tried not to smile at his over-the-top effort. I took a screenshot and sent it back to him.

Me: What is this?

Dimitri: A spa day for you to relax.

Me: Dimitri, I don’t want that. Cancel it.

Dimitri: It’s not refundable.

Me: You own the spa!

Dimitri: Yup, and as the owner, I know when to shut down the spa to outside guests so my future wife can pamper herself in it and relax.

Me: No. As your casual girlfriend, I don’t need extreme gifts. Give them to someone else. You’re flying around the world. Enjoy it and all the women you can have fun with.

Me: Which is fine, by the way. Of course. I’m enjoying all the men here too.

I winced at my stupidity. My own fun? Not really.

My stomach twisted and dipped and rolled at texting him to do that. I missed him. I knew I was getting feelings I shouldn’t. It’s how I knew I’d be hurt when he texted me back that he’d probably hooked up with every girl in every country he’d been in since he left last week.

It showed me I needed to start denying what I felt better and faster. I needed to be realistic that this charade would come to an end, that his desire for me would come to an end, that I wouldn’t be able to keep him.

I sighed and closed iMessages and put my notifications on Do Not Disturb. Too much was happening in Paradise Grove for me to be falling in love with Dimitri Hardy. So, I opened up the dating app instead and tried to go down the path of less complications.

Me: How are you? We haven’t talked in a while.

Mr. Perfect: Been busy but doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be talking. What are you up to tonight?

Me: About to go to sleep actually.

Mr. Perfect: Would it be bad if I said I wanted to see that, Flower Girl?

I smiled at his nickname for me. I appreciated that Mr. Perfect had kept things between us quite PG so far. This was the first time he’d pushed the boundary a bit. It was an open invitation to pick a path. To make a hard decision, especially considering Lucille had said I would have to make more in the future.

I knew I was going to stay in Paradise Grove, and Dimitri wouldn’t want that forever. He’d forget me while he flew around the world. Rightfully so.

I threw a bare leg over the white sheets and took a picture of it to send to Mr. Perfect.

Me: That’s just a little. Maybe if we actually meet, you’ll see more. I’ll be near Rooster Rock tomorrow evening. We could have a drink at 9?

When my phone rang and Dimitri’s name popped up, I dropped it like it was a hot potato, feeling like I’d somehow done something completely wrong. I wasn’t cheating on Dimitri. We were just casual. So, I don’t know why I stared at the phone with a feeling of guilt swelling through me.

Cautiously, I picked it up and stared at it. He had no idea what I was doing just like I had no idea who he was doing over there.

“Hello?”

“What the hell are you doing?” he growled out.

“Um, hi to you too.” I frowned at the phone. He sounded livid.

He took two deep breaths before he said, “You didn’t answer my text.”

I pulled up his texts quick to see what he’d said.

Dimitri: Who the fuck are you having fun with?

Dimitri: Don’t make me drop everything to fly home early.

Dimitri: I will fly home early if you don’t answer, Honeybee.

“Are you threatening me with your presence?” I asked coyly, already feeling my messy emotions for him bubbling over into the conversation.

“Why aren’t you answering my texts?” His tone was sharp.

“I put them on silent,” I admitted.

“Why?”

“Because …” I didn’t really know how to divulge that I was jealous of what he might be doing in another country. “I was about to go to sleep.”

“You know … I’d believe that lie had I not known the truth.”

“Which is what?” I narrowed my eyes because there was no way he knew I was messaging another guy.

“I think you are having fun with someone else. You just wrote that in a damn text.”

“If that was the case, I wouldn’t have answered the phone.” I rolled my eyes as I rolled over in the bed and touched the empty spot where he’d lain next to me just days ago.

He hummed like he was thinking about all of it. “I’ll be home late tomorrow. Wait up for me.”

“I can’t.” I paused before I breathed out the next sentence. “I’m going on a date.” There was the line. I was drawing it so we both had a clear view of what it meant for our casual relationship.

“A date?” he murmured. “With who?”

“Mr. Perfect.” I hesitated. “I think. He hasn’t answered back yet. But I figure I should try, right?”

There was a beat of silence before he said, “If that’s really what you want, Olive. I’m warning you though, I don’t play nice with competition.”

“It isn’t a competition. It’s taking things slow and being sure.”

“I am sure. Sure as the sky is blue, that you’re not supposed to be with anyone but me. Wait up for me after your date then?”

“If I don’t stay out with him all night.” I chuckled.

He didn’t laugh with me. I think I heard a snarl instead. “Not happening, Honeybee. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

With that, he hung up, and I was wound so tight from our interaction that I didn’t even bother texting Mr. Perfect back after he wrote:

Mr. Perfect: I’ll be there. Look for the tall guy who makes it clear I’m there for you.

I threw the phone down on the carpeted floor and went to sleep.