DEBT (31 page)

An hour passed.

Then two.

Then three.

The lasagna got cold.

And I felt a familiar bubbling, churning feeling in my stomach.

One night.

I got one night.

But I guess I would take one night over none.

My phone rang some time around eleven, making my heart fly into my chest as I scrambled across my apartment to grab it where my father had left it that afternoon. "Hello?"

"Prue?" a voice that was definitely not my father's, but also somewhat familiar, called.

"Yes..."

"Prue, it's Aaron."

I paused, swallowing. "Aaron from Mandy's?"

"The one and only. Glad to know you haven't forgotten me already, though I admit, it hurts to only be remembered as an employee of Mandy's. But, I guess, in this case... it is fitting."

Yep.

I knew what was coming.

"My dad is there, isn't he?" I asked, and the disappointment was so deep that I could drown in it.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. But, yes, he is. And, well, you know how Byr..."

"I'll be there in ten, fifteen tops," I rushed over him, not quite wanting to hear his name when I was already a swirling mass of unhappiness.

"I wish I could be calling you under different circumstances..."

"It's okay, Aaron. It's not your fault. And I really appreciate this."

With that, I hung up and went to my closet, pulling out a tight black dress and sensible heels and slipping into them on autopilot. I grabbed my wallet and keys and drove to the boardwalk, sure I was seconds away from physically choking on my sadness. It was right there in my throat, so wide and dense that it was hard to swallow past.

The last time I had stepped foot in Mandy's, it had been with Byron. And he had carefully, purposefully stripped away all the negativity I had surrounding the establishment in my head. But as I walked up to it, my heels click-clicking annoyingly on the pavement, it was as if that had never happened. Dread welled up strong and familiar as I gave one of the doormen a half-smile as he waved me inside.

The floor was packed and I had walked around, scanning, for the better part of twenty minutes, anxiety steadily building as I caught no sight of my father.

My elbow was snagged from behind and I whirled fast enough for the room to spin for a second before my eyes settled on Aaron's kind face. "He's back here," he informed me as he gripped my elbow and led me toward the offices. "Thought it was best to get him off the floor before he could cause any kind of scene," he supplied, leading me to Byron's office. He must have felt me stiffen because his hand released my elbow and stroked down my arm. "He's in there, I promise," he told me, reaching for the doorknob.

I pushed inside, lifting my chin, trying not to let too much of the devastation show.

"Oh, there she is," my father's voice called, sounding way too cheerful for someone who got dragged into the offices at a casino.

I got maybe a foot and a half inside before I realized that my father was lounging in the chair in front of the desk.

And Byron was sitting in his chair behind it.

I moved to go back a step in surprise and bumped into Aaron.

His hands went down on my shoulders, squeezing a little reassuringly, as I tilted my head back on his chest to look at him. But his face gave me nothing. So I looked back to the only other safe face in the room.

"Dad, is everything okay?"

"Fantastic, actually, baby. Why don't you come sit down?" he asked as I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end and I knew, I just
knew
without looking that Byron's gaze was glued on me.

"I think I'm good. I'd really rather get home. I have a lasagna waiting, you remember."

He grimaced a little, steeping his hands in front of his mouth for a second. "I'm sorry that had to wait."

"Why did it have to wait?" I asked, hearing a bit of the defeat, the tiredness in my tone. "You seemed like you were in a good place. You seemed like you were doing better."

"Oh, I am, baby. I am. See... I wasn't here tonight to hit the tables."

I felt my brow lower, not knowing my father to be a liar, but also not quite believing him either. "Then what were you here for?"

"To see me," Aaron said from behind me as he gently nudged me forward so he could step in and close the door.

I turned slightly toward Aaron, mostly because it put my back to Byron. "Why would he want to see you?"

"To discuss you actually," he offered, moving over toward my father, forcing me to half-face Byron again.

"To discuss... me? Why?"

"More accurately," my father cut in, "you and Byron."

"There is no me and Byron," I insisted, proud that my voice came off cold and not bitter like I felt.

"Yes, Dear Prudence, but that seems to have a lot to do with me."

I felt my brows draw together. A lot to do with him? When had he ever interfered in my life before?

"Before you and Matt came back from the store," Byron broke in and I had no choice but to face him. And seeing his perfect face, his deep, dark eyes, and his trademark straight-line lips was like a knife to the chest cavity, "your father came to visit me. We had a... conversation."

"What kind of conversation?" I asked, looking back at my father.

"The kind where I told him to stay away from my daughter," my father supplied shamelessly.

"What? Why would you do that?"

"Because I didn't think he was any good for you, baby," he said, making his tone quiet.

"What?" I exploded, a hand going up to run through my hair. "What made you think you had any right to do that? I'm a grown woman. I have been making decisions about the men I get involved with since I was fifteen years old. You've never cared before."

"I've always cared, baby. The fact that you have dated every single contestant for the Dullest Man In The World has always driven me to the edge. But they were safe choices so I kept my mouth shut. But when I got wind that you and Byron were involved..."

"What?" I prompted.

"I had to put an end to it."

"He made some valid points," Byron added, drawing my attention. And I guess there must have been the pain I was feeling in my eyes because his face softened slightly.

"And they would be?"

"That I'm no good for you. That I'll hurt you. That you can do better." He paused, then added, "All three points that I agreed with."

"Except I was wrong," my father put in before I could open my mouth. "He made business cards for you," he added.

"And?"

"And he threw a party to show off your desserts."

"Okay, Dad..."

"Baby, he cares about you. He might be too stubborn to admit it," he said, raising a brow at Byron.

"I'm not too stubborn to admit it. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm no good for you."

"I heard you got her on an airplane," my father continued. "We went to Disney once... and Vegas... we had to drive, Byron. Even as a kid, I couldn't get her on a plane. She got hysterical just talking about the possibility. You got her on a plane. Then you got her
back
on a plane to get her home again. You made her confront me about all the things she had never told me before. Don't try to deny that; Aaron here filled me in on that being all your doing. You got a business started for her because you knew she'd never do it for herself. I know men like you, Byron. You're not like me; you don't have all the words. But you show it through your actions. And maybe I think you're a real asshole at times, but you have shown me that you have cared more about my daughter in a
month
than any of the other men she has dated for
years.
" Byron remained silent, but his eyes were active as my father turned to me. "And you, baby, you saved all those recipes. I'm guessing he wrote them. And a chip from Mandy's. Aaron told me he dragged you in here to get you over your hangups about casinos. You also have a 'do not disturb' sign that, we imagine, you got from the hotel in Florida. You saved all that stuff. You don't save things that don't matter to you, Prue."

"You don't have to convince me that I... cared," I said the word quietly, as if that would stop Byron from hearing, "about Byron, Dad. I'm very aware of that."

"And yet, you're in your apartment and he's in his house and you're both acting like a couple of immature teenagers too stubborn to be the first to explain how you're feeling. Making this old man," he said, waving a hand at himself, "have to get involved when I told myself the day you were born that I wasn't going to try to interfere with how you wanted to live your life."

"It was what it was," I said, shrugging. "And now it's over. This is silly."

"Alright," he said, standing with a clap, "Aaron and I will just leave you two here for a minute to talk things over. If, after that, you still don't want to pursue this, fine. I will back off. But," he said, putting a hand to my cheek, "I do think that would be a giant mistake, Dear Prudence."

With that, he and Aaron shuffled out of the room. I watched until the door clicked quietly, blanketing the room in a heaviness that made the air feel hard to breathe.

"Prue..." Byron's voice called, making me squeeze my eyes shut for a second before taking a breath to face him. "Why did you leave all the clothes?"

"They weren't mine," I rushed to say.

"I gave them to you," he countered and any idiot knew that when someone gave you a dress, that they intended for you to keep it. "You left the dresses, but you took the chip and the notes and the sign from the hotel."

"You told me to
go,
" I snapped suddenly, the thing inside that had cracked the day before breaking completely open and spilling everywhere inside. "Like you were dismissing some freaking unimportant secretary."

"Babe..." his voice trailed off, heavy with something that I was pretty sure he meant to be consolation, but I missed it.

"Don't
babe
me. That was shitty. That was shitty even if I wasn't in love with you. That would be shitty to do to a one-night stand, Byron. I was with you for a
month.
Day and night. I went on a trip with you. I opened up to you. And, like it or not, you opened up to me too. Then you just throw it in my face that my dad needs me? Because you knew that was the perfect way to manipulate the outcome you wanted, to play me. And that, Byron, that was even shittier..." I trailed off, hand slapping down over my mouth at everything I had just admitted. I had never been the type to just... spill all my thoughts and feelings. That wasn't what I did.

"You're in love with me?" he asked, his voice deep in a way I hadn't heard it before.

"I know. Stupid, right?" I asked, snorting at myself.

"Yeah, pretty stupid," he agreed, and I felt my lips tip up at that. "But also rather convenient."

"Convenient?" I asked, watching as he slowly stood, buttoning his suit jacket, then rounding the desk toward me.

He stalked up toward me, making me retreat a couple steps until my back hit the door. His hands planted on either side of my shoulders, caging me in. "Yeah, convenient. Because as fucked up as it might have happened, as much as it doesn't make any God damn sense for either of us, and as hard as this is to admit for someone like me... I think I love you too, Prue." Then he leaned in closer, his smile stretching almost boyishly. "It's some straight out of Disney shit."

I swallowed hard against the hope that soared through my system, knowing how fleeting it usually tended to be. "Not to sound insecure or self-deprecating here... but... why me?"

"Fuck if I know, babe. It's... everything."

"When did you know?"

At that, he huffed out his breath in a way that it was a laugh, but not quite, as he looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "Know? I dunno... five minutes ago maybe. I'm not exactly the kind of man who is into all that gushy shit."

"No flowers or prince charmings," I agreed, remembering what he told me in his kitchen.

"Right. And admitting I love you, that doesn't change any of that."

"I don't need flowers. I get handwritten recipes," I said, giving him a smile that he returned briefly. "And my favorite prince charming was a Beast, remember?"

"Until he wasn't anymore. Just making shit clear here, babe. Love isn't going to change me suddenly. I'm still going to have my dick moments."

"I've been fine with that..."

"For a month. Babe, we're talking about more than that here. It could get old."

"So it gets old," I shrugged. "You can't make me any guarantees. And I wouldn't believe them if you tried. That's not how this works. I know exactly what I am getting into here, Byron. For once in my life, I want to take a chance."

"On me."

"Yeah. And what we might be able to have together. I know you're a workaholic. And I know you aren't a great communicator sometimes and a lot of time, when you do communicate, you say all the wrong things in the wrong tone and it pisses me off or drives me up a wall. But you make up for it by paying attention to me, by listening to me... even when you cut me off... you hear me. You... I dunno... you...