Fixer: A Bad Boy Romance (42 page)

After a moment, however, I managed to get ahold of my temper. I took a step back, no longer looming over Barry, and forced myself to take a deep breath, to let my eyes close for a moment as I regained my balance.

Just try reasoning with him, I told myself.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw Barry frowning at me, clearly not sure of what to do next. He started to open his mouth, but I spoke up before he could say anything.

"Both of us want this whole divorce process to be over and done with, in the past," I said carefully, keeping my voice even with an effort. "Right?"

After a moment of staring at me, he realized that I was waiting for a response from him, and he nodded. His tongue flicked out to lick his dry lips, but he didn't say anything yet.

"Good. And that's why I want to get you paid off as soon as I can, so that I can be done." I dropped down into the chair on the other side of his desk, letting out a breath that I hadn't realized that I'd been holding in. "God, what happened to us?" I asked softly. "Weren't we both happy and optimistic at the start, before everything fell apart?"

He sighed as well. "Yeah. We just kept on lying to ourselves, insisting that the two of us would click together at some point."

I glanced up in surprise. Those were insightful words, even more so from Barry! I hadn't expected anything so profound to come from him. "You think so?"

"Yeah. I wanted a wife to be at home and do everything that a wife does, and I somehow thought that, at some point, it would turn into everything that I needed. And you thought that you needed to play that role." He ran a hand through his thinning hair; the gesture didn't look nearly as good on him as it did when Carter pulled it, I thought to myself, but held my tongue. "We both convinced ourselves that we wanted the wrong things."

"If only we'd realized that we had made the wrong choice before we went ahead and got married," I lamented, pretending to raise a fist and shake it up at the heavens - and Barry actually laughed.

"Would have saved us a lot of paperwork, at least," he nodded.

Suddenly, I realized something.

This was the most civil, peaceful, longest conversation that I'd held with Barry since I told him that I wanted a divorce. Maybe, just maybe, there was still some hope for the two of us managing to peacefully coexist after all.

Not as romantic partners, however. One look at the man, even not thinking about our disastrous shared history, told me that I had absolutely no intention of jumping in bed with him, or even letting him give me a kiss after dinner.

So maybe I could convince him, after all. "But going back to the money thing - if I can't pay you right now, it won't do you any good to try and sue. It will just make things stretch out for longer. Right?"

Still looking introspective as he reflected on the failure of our marriage, Barry nodded.

"So I'm going to pay you off whenever I can," I finished, trying to make my statement sound set in stone. "I want this to be over and done with, so I don't have any reason to drag my feet. But you'll have to wait on me, and take whatever check I hand you, and you can't argue about any of it. Or else we'll both be stuck, neither of us able to move on - which isn't what either of us wants."

Barry didn't say anything, so I prompted him after a moment. "Right? Do you agree with this?"

For just an instant, I thought he might actually agree with me. His mouth opened, started to form the yes - but then he paused, and I felt my heart sink as his glare returned

"I can't," he insisted. "I need that money."

After another second of glaring back at him, however, I realized that, no matter what I said, I wasn't going to change the man's mind. He was set in his ways, stuck in this slightly musty smelling dentist's office, stuck with his yappy receptionist outside, and he would never come around to my way of thinking.

And he'd threatened to bring my parents into the mix, making them pay for the debt I owed him - the one thing that I'd worked so hard to avoid. I couldn't let that happen.

I needed to get the money.

After a minute, I stood up, sighing. "I should probably let you get back to that sandwich, huh?" I said to Barry, trying to pretend that my heart hadn't dropped down to the level of my toes.

Barry glanced down at the soggy remains of his lunch sitting in front of him with mild surprise, as if he'd forgotten about it completely. "Yeah, I suppose so," he said, even as he pushed it slightly further away from him.

I walked out of the office, not even acknowledging Melissa the Receptionist Shrew as she directed a prissy glare at my retreating back. The whole place felt dated, like even as Barry became a part of my past, his office was being left in the last decade as well. I looked around at the old, well-thumbed magazines in the waiting room, the worn couches with their cracked and fading leather, and claustrophobia suddenly gripped me.

I burst out of the building, out into the bright sunlight. It was a warm morning, the kind of day that would normally fill me with optimism and excitement. Now, however, I couldn't muster up any energy at all, couldn't even crack a smile.

I had no options left.

In just another day or two, Barry would come around, demanding the money - and then, when I couldn't pay him, he'd go to my poor parents, who had at one point been ready to accept him as a son-in-law, and would demand that they pay him money that they couldn't afford to give away.

And they'd do it, because they still loved me. They'd do it, even though it was my fault, my shitty choice.

That hurt worst of all, like a knife straight to the chest.

I went back to my truck, but sitting behind the wheel, I couldn't bring myself to turn the key and head back to work. I just sat there, feeling the last shattered little pieces of my life dropping away. I couldn't think of any other time, not even when I realized that I needed to get divorced, that I'd felt this low. Even when I knew that, without a doubt, the divorce was going ahead, I'd still had some hope for the future. I'd told myself that things would get better, would brighten up after some time.

Now, I really didn't know what to do. I ought to... go back to work, maybe have a drink, talk to Portia, reach out to my parents and explain the situation.

I didn't do any of those things.

I just sat in the driver's seat of my truck, sniveling like an overgrown baby as tears came welling up from the corners of my eyes. At first, just a few tears rolled down my cheeks, but they broke the dam, and their fellows soon came pouring after them as my shoulders heaved and I bawled like an infant.

Chapter Twenty-Two

*

Finally, after what felt like hours of crying alone in my truck, the tears stopped coming. I wasn't feeling much better, but it seemed that my tear ducts had finally run dry.

I wiped the back of one hand across my face, trying to scrub most of the wetness off, and then pulled down the mirror to check my reflection. I looked like a total mess, my mascara streaked and running, but what else was new? Besides, with everything else going wrong in my life, a bit of streaked makeup seemed like the least of my worries.

I pulled in one last breath, let it out slowly, and then started up the truck. "I suppose I could try selling you," I said to the vehicle, rubbing its dashboard, but I somehow doubted that this would bring in much. When I'd last checked the vehicle's value online, it didn't come even halfway up to the ten grand that I needed. It was a trusty little truck, but it wasn't worth anywhere close to five figures.

With the truck running, I started to drive out of the dental office's parking lot, but paused before turning out onto the street. Was it really worth even heading back to the gallery? Especially in my current state. Maybe I could call Uncle Preston and explain what had happened, beg him to come cover for me so I could take the rest of the day off. Maybe instead, I could try to talk with my parents about what might be coming their way.

I decided not to head back to the office quite yet. Instead I threw the vehicle into reverse instead, looking over my shoulder and managing to steer, backwards, into an open parking spot. It was definitely not my best parking job, but Barry's office wasn't exactly crawling with clients, so I didn't feel too bad about taking up three spaces.

I reached into my purse and drew out my phone, flipping it over and swiping across it to open it up. I scrolled over to my favorites, pulling up Portia's number. I held the phone up to my ear as I waited for her to answer, hoping that I wouldn't just get the machine.

After four rings, she picked up. "Hey Becks, what's going on? Any word on the sale going through?"

"Nothing," I answered, and although I tried to keep my voice flat, a little hiccup of anxiety burst in my voice halfway through that word.

"Oh, no." Of course, Portia didn't miss that little breaking sound. "What happened?"

No point in holding it in, I supposed. "I went to talk to Barry, to try and convince him to be reasonable. It didn't work."

"Well, of course not. He's not reasonable - he's an ass." Portia sounded about to launch into a whole tirade about Barry, but perhaps sensing that it wouldn't do me much good, she held it back. "What happened?"

"Well, even though I told him that I didn't have the money, he said that he still expected it, that he'd even consider pressing charges against me to get it if I couldn't pay him." I sniffed, feeling the tears threatening to come rushing back. "Portia, he threatened to go after my parents if I couldn't pay up!"

"Bastard," she spat out with feeling. "Listen, Becca, how much are you short? I don't have ten thousand, but maybe I can help-"

"No, really, don't," I cut her off. My heart was touched, knowing that she would be willing to sacrifice her financial safety net to help me, but I couldn't bear to think of taking her money. "I could never live with myself if you had to bail me out. It would ruin our friendship from this point forward, because I'd always feel too indebted to you."

"Come on, really, it's better than getting sued," she said, not willing to let it go. "Becca, you're my best friend, and I've been with you for every step of this divorce. I'm not going to abandon you now, just when the ending is in sight!"

My eyes once again filled with tears; apparently they'd managed to recharge their reservoirs in the last few minutes. "Portia, really, I can't," I sniffled. "Come on, you know that it would make things too awkward between us, even if I paid you back."

She sighed, but thankfully didn't push the issue any further. "Do you want me to use the money instead to hire a hit on Barry? I dated this Italian guy once who, although he'd never tell me for sure, might have been in the Mafia. I do know that he owned a lot of guns, and he'd probably shoot anyone I wanted if it got him another night with me."

"Ew, no no, not necessary," I said quickly, although a half-crazy little smile flicked across my face at her sincerity. This was why Portia was my best friend; even at times like this, she knew how to pull me up from the worst of my depression.

"Well, just let me know if there's any way that I can help, anything at all," she said. "Well, wait - I'm not going to sleep with Barry. A girl's got to have a limit somewhere."

"Hell, I think even if I offered to sleep with him, it wouldn't be enough to make him forgive the money," I replied. "His office looks a bit more rundown than I remembered. I think he's got some money problems."

"Normally, I'd be glad to hear that, but not if he's going to risk suing your parents in order to get the money from you," Portia said. "Look, Becks, I've got to go, there's a client meeting in two minutes and I need to get there - but really, if I can help at all-"

"I know, I'll tell you," I said, sighing. "Get back to work, Portia."

"Be strong," she urged me before hanging up.

I lowered my phone back down to my lap and took a deep breath, feeling only slightly better after that conversation. I really couldn't bear to think of taking money from Portia, even if it would help me out in the short term. Maybe, if I took money from her and sold all of my belongings except for Salem's food and water bowls, I could get enough to pay back Barry - but then what? Live on the street, or in the back of the Halesford Gallery, have to deal with the shame I felt every time I saw Portia because I'd know how much money I owed her?

I couldn't do it.

I looked down at my phone on my lap, scrolling over to the number for my parents' house. I needed to call them and tell them what might happen, explain things to them. I knew that they'd be disappointed in me, but they'd still immediately start looking into how they could pay Barry back for my debt. That trust they still held in me burned like an open flame pressed against my skin, even though I knew that they felt that way out of love.

I started to move my thumb towards the call button, but just couldn't do it. I turned the screen off and dropped my phone back down into my lap, sighing and leaning my forehead against the steering wheel.

And then, down between my thighs, my phone started buzzing again. Someone else was calling me!

I jerked upright, nearly smacking my head on the top of the steering wheel, as my hand fumbled down for the vibrating piece of metal and glass. Finally getting my fingers around the device, I picked it up and flipped it around so that I could see who was calling me on the screen.