Broken Love Story (Love 3)

“Well, if it’s too late, I want to know how much you got, and we are going to reimburse her. To the penny.”

“Very well,” he says. “I will have to let Adrian know about this.”

I shake my head. “Do what you have to, but what we discussed here isn’t to be discussed with him.” I don’t wait for him to say anything. Instead, I walk out the room, down the hall, to the elevator, and make it to my car before I yell out in frustration. I pitch my purse to the side, grabbing the keys.

“Fucking asshole,” I say out loud, slapping my hand on the console. “Great fucking plan, Eric. Fuck not only me but the other woman by leaving your father to go after her. Fucking awesome.” I shake my head, turning on the car and pulling out of the parking lot. I stop at Wal-Mart on the way home, grabbing chips, soda, and nail polish—everything I need for the night. I smile at the clerk who wishes me a good day.

I look at my phone, seeing it’s almost time for the kids to be home. I send Judy a message.

On my way home. I’ll get the girls.

She just answers back one word

Okay.

That is it; only one fucking word. I stare at the phone, waiting to see the bubble with three dots reappear. I wait and wait and get nothing.

I put the bags into the trunk when my phone rings. Seeing a weird number, I contemplate whether to answer it.

“Hello?” I say, holding the phone with my shoulder while I close the trunk and push the cart back.

“Samantha.” The voice makes me stop walking in the middle of the parking lot. A man honks at me, telling me to move. “Hello?” he says again. His voice smooth, his voice soft, his voice somewhat comforting.

“Blake?” I ask, but I will never forget his voice. From the first moment he explained who he was to the time he sat in my kitchen with his cousin, his voice will always be familiar.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Listen, I know that the last thing you need is for me to call you, but”—I turn and walk back to the car as I listen to him struggle to find the words—“I just wanted to check and see if you were okay.”

“What?” I whisper; this man who doesn’t even know me, who knows nothing about me, who has met me a total of one time, not counting the wake, is asking if I’m okay.

“I’ve been thinking about you since we left you, and I know that Crystal can come off strong and I just,” he starts saying and then stops. “So, I was just making sure you were okay.”

“I don’t think I will ever be okay,” I say, getting in the car and making my way home. “I’m sorry,” I tell him.

“For what?” he asks, surprised.

“I just left the lawyer’s office, and he told me that they froze your sister’s account,” I say as I park the car in front of the kids’ school. “It wasn’t me.”

“We know,” he says, and I sit here a little stunned. How does he know?

“How?” I ask him. From this day forward, I’m asking all the questions and getting all the answers.

“Because I know,” he says, and I smile.

“You don’t even know me. You know nothing about me,” I tell him, looking at the kids starting to come out of the school.

“You’re right, I don’t, but I know you enough to know you aren’t the vindictive type. You don’t want to cause my sister any more pain than necessary. You want your life, and you want her to have hers.”

“We sat at the table for five minutes,” I tell him, getting out of the car. I wave to the girls when they walk out of the school, smiling when they see me.

“It was in your eyes,” he says softly. “Someone holding that much pain doesn’t want to inflict it on someone else.”

“My kids just got out of school,” I tell him.

“I’ll let you go. Take care, Samantha,” he says, and he disconnects before I can say anything else.

Chapter Nine

Blake

I shouldn’t have called her. I shouldn’t have called her. I stare at the phone that I just disconnected. I shouldn’t have called her, but I couldn’t not call her. I had to make sure she was okay.

Her eyes haunted my dreams all night. The pain, the emptiness, the sadness—it was just too much.

“Hey.” I hear from behind me, and I look up to see Ricky. “Someone is outside asking for you,” he says, and I get up, walking to the front. I’m in my squad uniform of blue pants and a blue t-shirt. I walk downstairs, coming face-to-face with Rosanna.

“Hey,” she says, smiling at me. “I brought you lunch,” she says, holding up a brown paper bag. Rosanna is or was Frankie’s best friend.