Four Steps (Four)

I don’t bother to keep the annoyance out of my voice. “Hello?”

“You can’t just run away.” Bronson sounds angry and his tone of voice pisses me right off.

“I’m not running away. I’m coming to my senses. You need to do that too.”

“What are you talking about?”

My hand is gripping the phone so hard, I’m surprised it doesn’t break. “We can’t be together.”

“Caz, we’re going to come over.” Bronson’s tone sounds like one you’d use with a child who doesn’t understand a simple concept.

“Goddamnit! Why do you have to be so stubborn and bossy? I’m so tired of you not listening to me. You know what? I’m not coming into work tonight. In fact, I quit.” My finger stabs the button to end the call before I throw my phone onto my bed.

25

What might have been, and what almost was

Becca texts me that night: Hey, you doing okay?

Me: I’m fine. I’m sorry to quit without notice. I hope you’re not too busy tonight.

Becca: Wait, you quit? I’ll call you.

My phone rings ten seconds later, the sounds of Rusty’s dull in the background. “You quit?” Becca repeats.

“Yeah. Didn’t they tell you?”

“Barrett just said you weren’t coming in. He and Lennox are actually waiting on tables. It’s kind of funny.”

I smile despite myself at the image of them serving cocktails, until it occurs to me how much the female customers will probably enjoy the sexy new waiters. But that’s not my concern, and I need to stop thinking of them that way.

“So why did you quit, Caz?” Becca asks.

I sigh. “Disagreements with the new owners. I knew I needed to find another job when they bought the place.”

“Oh. And did you? Find a new job?”

“Not yet, but I will,” I say.

“Christine was worried about you. I’ll let her know you’re okay.”

“Thanks.”

The noise in the background is getting louder as Becca says, “I’ve got to go, Caz, but I hope you’ll stay in touch. We’ll miss you.”

“Thanks. I’ll miss you too.”

More tears fall when I get off the phone. I will miss Becca and Christine, but that’s not why I’m crying. It’s not even been twenty-four hours, and I already miss the Stone brothers.

My anger has faded quickly. I don’t blame them for wanting to talk about things, but I just wasn’t ready to talk, and I also don’t see the point.

I know how much they love their mom, and I know they wouldn’t want to hurt her, and the five of us being in a relationship would definitely cause her pain. I’m not willing to sneak around and lie about things, so we just need to stop seeing each other. It’s that simple.

And that painful.

I want to wail that it’s not fair — life’s not fair — but that won’t change anything. Better to accept the facts and move on. No matter how much it hurts.

As usual for mid-December, my virtual assistant work has slowed to a trickle. Since I worked ahead over the weekend, I have ample free time to drive into Whitman, a town on the mainland, about twenty minutes away. There are more bars and restaurants there, and less chance of running into the Stone brothers, should they come looking for me.

The streets are busy with people out shopping for Christmas, and there’s a contrasting mix of seasonal joy and stressful irritation in the air. Also, unfortunately, the holiday season means that nearly all of the jobs available are temporary, with businesses just looking to get through their Christmas rush.

I might be better off looking for a job in the new year, but I can’t afford to wait. I refuse to touch a dime of the extra money the brothers put in my account, and in fact, I need to figure out how to get that back to them.

I inquire at a couple of bars and fill out an application at one, though the situation isn’t very hopeful. It seems that everyone already has their holiday help covered. I’ve never waitressed in a restaurant, but I stop by a few of those, and fill out more applications.

I’ll do whatever I need to do, because crawling back to Rusty’s is not an option. At first, I was too mad at them — mostly Bronson and Barrett for their stubbornness — but now the reality is that I wouldn’t be able to be so close to them everyday, knowing that we can’t be together.

I’ll always remember how good it felt to be with them, how perfect it was when our bodies came together, and how happy and hopeful I felt at the thought of spending my life with them. Having to see them everyday would turn these painful memories into pure torture.

At the end of what feels like the longest week ever, I receive a text from Lennox. Surprisingly, it’s the first contact I’ve had from any of the men since I quit my job, and I’ve been trying to decide if I’m grateful or disappointed that they’re finally leaving me alone like I asked.