He was “fine” with that.
With utterly no warning, it happened, besieging me in a way I couldn’t ignore.
So I dumped my salad on the coffee table and stood abruptly.
My movement was so sudden, Zeke lost interest in the bacon on Judge’s wedge and his head whipped around.
Judge’s also snapped back to look up at me.
“I need to change out of these work clothes,” I said, my voice breathy, wrong. “This won’t take long, but I’ve been in these clothes all day. My feet are killing me.”
“All right,” Judge said slowly.
Too slowly.
I didn’t notice.
I had to get out of there.
So I did.
Humiliatingly, I dashed from the couch and ran up the steps.
When I got to my room, I closed the door without turning on a single light, and I stood in the darkness.
I would not cry.
I would not.
“I’m not going to cry,” I whispered, elbows bent, wrists loose, shaking my hands in front of me.
I needed to get it together.
I needed to change clothes.
I needed to put on something comfortable, not stylish, or overtly attractive.
I didn’t think I owned anything like that.
I ran to my closet and threw on the light.
I’d only been in the dark for seconds, but that light blinded me.
In that flash of sightlessness, my mind filled with Judge and his cute, well-behaved dog and his cooler on my front stoop.
Waiting for me to come home.
Waiting for me.
Call me if you want to talk.
“God, God, God,” I panted, something itching in my throat, crawling over my skin.
My clothes came in focus, and I began to clack hangers around indiscriminately.
But your brother and sister should know you’ve got your own baggage to unpack.
My eyes started stinging.
What I mean is, I’ll shield you as best as I can.
I swallowed.
It hurt.
God, how it hurt.
Until you shared what was behind your big speech and I could have been there for you in whatever way you might’ve needed me.
I stopped clacking hangers and wrapped my fingers over my mouth, worried I was going to be sick.
I then covered my face in both of hands, closed my eyes tight, scrunching with the effort.
Susan Shepherd’s picture flashed in my head.
This was followed by the memory of Matt telling me to go fuck myself at Duncan’s New Year’s party.
Then another, of Sasha during her beach volleyball days, long and lithe and tan, hitting a spike that won the match, and turning a sunny, victorious smile Dad’s way even before she ran to her teammate to give her a hug.
On to Mom in that beautiful, floaty lilac gown that she’d eventually given me. Dad dapper and so very handsome in his tux at her side. The perfect couple. Perfectly beautiful. Perfectly happy. It was the first time (but not the last) that I could remember them saying goodbye to us before they were off to attend the Oscars.
From that, I went to Duncan’s face, the gratitude, the stark need—a need to know me, a need to connect with what was hers, what she made—the first time I met him and told him I was Imogen’s daughter.
Then to Dad asking me to Capitol Grille because he had no one else to go with.
I swallowed again, and almost gagged, my nose plugging up with a wave of consuming emotions.
“Pick an outfit and get it together, Coco. Just an outfit, and getting it fucking together, Coco,” I verbally lashed at myself.
I dropped my hands.
Deep breath.
Right.
Another.
More hanger clacking.
This time, with determination.
I picked a rosy-hued jogger and slouchy top ensemble.
I kicked off my heels. Peeled down my skinny jeans. Tore off my blouse.
Gone were the accessories.
I donned my outfit.
I bunched my hair in a clip at the back.
And I faced the door.
I was Chloe Marilyn fucking Pierce.
My parents had gotten divorced.
A man I trusted betrayed everyone I loved.
Including me.
But I had everything I needed and nearly everything I wanted, from the three pairs of shoes I lost my mind and bought in a fog of euphoria at being around Judge and seeing how much Tiffany liked him, not to mention how much he liked her, to the bottomless depths of love I had from friends, family, and the new family I had in Duncan, Sullivan and Gage.
I had nothing to complain about.
I would be fine.
I would be fine.
On this thought, I squared my shoulders, sniffed the final remnants of unshed tears away, sucked in the biggest breath I’d ever taken, and headed downstairs.
Judge did not hide he was watching for me when I came down.
“You good?” he asked.
There was concern there. Kind concern.
No piercing looks or anything deep muddying his eyes.
He’d given it a go with me.
I made things clear.
Like the decent man he was, he was backing off.
Now, I was just a human who’d run off, and he was a human who gave a shit about other humans.
That was all.
And it killed.