Tidal Patterns (Golden Shores Book 1) (17 page)

“You’re right. Everything you’re saying is right. And I’m trying to get you help, believe me, I am.”

“I don’t have… You know nothing about women. Do you?” she asked.

Flinching, he turned his back to her and slid off the table. Pacing before her, he took in a deep breath.
She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It was a flippant comment.
She’d been hurt and lashed out with a phrase used a hundred times a day without ever cutting anyone to the quick. But her words sliced straight through him.

“
You know, you’re right. I don’t know anything about women. In fact, I can’t keep a woman. Or, actually, I can keep one when she wants to spend a decade lying to herself. But the minute she’s honest, we were done.”

That got her attention. She raised her gaze from her lap to his eyes. Perched on the edge of the table as he stood before her, they were almost the same height. Confusion clouded her eyes and she frowned.

“What does that mean?” she asked, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders.

“My girlfriend left me six months ago. To get married. To a woman.”

Lizzie’s mouth dropped open.

“No words? For once you’re speechless?”

“What happened?” Lizzie asked, ignoring his taunts and his sarcasm.

His eyes had darkened to the stormy depths of the ocean during a storm. Only a fool would respond and spar with him, give him the fight he tried to provoke in her. And she was smart enough not to be that fool. Taking in a shaky breath, he leaned his back against the edge of the table. He stood near enough to talk without having to raise his voice and by standing next to her wouldn’t have to make eye contact.

“We were the classic love story. Boy meets girl and they fall in love. After almost nine years together, with a few break-ups behind them, boy finally decides he’s ready for the family he never had growing up. He goes ring shopping and comes home with his heart and his savings in a tiny box and she finally tells him the truth. That she could never love him, not romantically at least. That for nine years she’d been lying to both of them.”

“Mark, I… I’m so… I had no…” she whispered. Her voice came from just past his shoulder. Her nearness threatened him.

“Idea? You had no idea? You’re so sorry?” he supplied, pushing away from the table to stand in front of her again.

Lizzie nodded her head.

“Yeah, well that makes two of us,” he told her.

“And now she’s getting married?”

Mark nodded and looked down at his feet. Getting the Save the Date in the mail had been cruel. He knew Cynthia thought of an invitation as an olive branch. But the woman could be so passive aggressive, he didn’t think she even realized when she was doing it anymore. Lizzie got off the table and reached out a hand, tentatively, timidly, waiting to see if he’d slap or hold the hand. He made no move and let her take the lead, she put her hand in his and gave a firm squeeze. Something about the gesture threatened to shake lose the deep seeded anger that he’d never expelled. The devastating regret of wasted time coiled inside.

He’d yelled, he’d thrown all of her things into the trash, and he’d burned every picture he could find. But he’d never let himself mourn. Lizzie offered him the chance to grieve for what he’d lost. But the longer the moment lasted, the more he realized the relationship he’d thought he’d had, hadn’t been real. He’d been living an illusion and now that he was back in reality, he understood that.

“Thanks Lizzie,” he squeezed her hand back deliberately before taking a step backward. He appreciated the friendliness of the comfort she offered. But without distance, he might do something he’d regret.

“For what?”

“Listening.”

Lizzie glared. The calm of the moment evaporated.
Why is she mad at me? I’m fighting for her. I’m on her side.
But watching her seethe, he realized everyone knew that, except Lizzie. He’d told Scooter and Phil and Trish about her. He’d spoken to both Frank and Samantha. But he’d never said the words to her.

“And thanks for last night. You saved the day. And I want you to know I went from the parking lot into the dinner and told Frank,” he said.

She clasped her hands behind her back and looked past him. He wanted so desperately for Frank Cade to see her work and value her. Regardless of whatever creative accounting Frank had stumbled into, Lizzie deserved not only a support staff but also a raise. But he didn’t know if Frank ever would understand.

“Mark, I don’t… Look, I want a raise. No, I’m demanding a raise. I work hard. I am currently doing the job of two people. And I’m underpaid,” she told him, raising her chin to look him directly in the eyes.

“I’ve… Lizzie, it’s not that… I get it. But I don’t…” he sputtered.

I’m trying
he wanted to shout. But what good would come from telling her everything he’d learned? Her chin up and shoulders held back, he’d come to understand, meant she was serious and her words had been determined. Frustration and anger at the situation and his inability to fix it for her left him off-balance.

“I’ve got to get going. Can’t spend the whole day in spandex,” she said, excusing herself as she stood up from the table and climbed back down to the ground. Lizzie grabbed her tote bag, swung it over her shoulder, and stomped off.

Mark didn’t watch her leave. He focused his eyes on the sea and watched as a group of dolphins jumped near the Pier, catching their own dinner. She’d stayed to listen to him when he was hurting, but mention of the job had her running away. He wanted to talk with her about everything he knew and figure out a plan for her.

When he hadn’t immediately capitulated to her demands, she’d run off? Pulling out his phone, he watched until five minutes ticked by. He didn’t want to run into her again, not without answers that might appease her. He strolled down the Pier and Mallery Street towards Phil’s. Tourists filled the sidewalks and bikes navigated the road, the town was coming alive again. Mark missed the anonymity of getting lost in a big crowd on the island. He loved the start of the summer season when he didn’t feel so conspicuous.

She’s mad about the job. I would be mad too. But what about. . . my past? Does she pity me?
Mark didn’t want pity from anyone but especially her.

He had never been in sync with Cynthia. He had never been able to give her what she wanted or to anticipate her needs. She wanted him to be bold and take charge. But when he did, she inevitably backed off and seemed intimidated. He’d never been as comfortable around Cynthia as he was around Lizzie.

Letting himself in the back door, Mark walked up the staircase.

A few years ago, he had moved in with Cynthia when she’d decreed it. But she’d never unpacked. She’d left her things in boxes in the second bedroom and only unpacked her clothes. Had he been the naïve, gullible guy willing to go along with whatever she wanted? No, he couldn’t lay the blame entirely at Cynthia’s feet. She may have been lying to herself when she was living with him. But he hadn’t forced her to be honest with herself and so he hadn’t been honest with himself either. They’d fallen into an easy, lazy relationship and had devolved into being roommates by the time Mark proposed.

He thought she wanted to make the next step. He hadn’t realized she’d finally worked up the courage to be true to herself. When would he find that strength? He mused. He raised his hand to knock on the door but the delighted sounds of little boy giggles and happy, whacking tail stopped him. Mark turned the knob and pushed the door open to peek inside. Sure enough, Scooter and Charlie were playing tug of war with a rope. Scooter understood that Charlie was young and didn’t pull nearly as hard as he did with Mark. Still, Scooter had enough of an advantage to drag the little boy across the floor.

Mark stepped inside and shut the door.

“What’s this Scooter? You found a new owner?” Mark bellowed.

Charlie and Scooter dropped the rope and turned to Mark.

“Unca Marr,” Charlie called running to grab Mark by the kneecap.

“Hold on,” Mark told him and the little boy tightened his grip.

Mark walked around the room, lifting his right leg with the giggling boy high into the air before putting it down. Each exaggerated step solicited more laughter until finally, he couldn’t hold on any longer. Mark lowered him down carefully as Trish came down the hall.

“Hi Mark, thanks for letting us play with Scooter today.”

“His pleasure,” Mark replied, bending down to rub Scooter’s head behind the ears. “He likes getting out of the house every now and then. Coming to your house to break things is a nice change of pace.”

Trish rolled her eyes.

“Well I think we can get a dog,” Phil announced as he got up from his spot on the couch.

“Not every dog is as easy as Scooter,” Mark cautioned.

“Maybe we just need to take Scooter,” Phil teased.

“Come on Charlie, let’s get Scooter’s things,” Trish called out.

“Ohkay, ‘mon Ssscooer,” Charlie called out and the trio walked down to Charlie’s bedroom.

“Thanks for taking him today,” Mark said.

“No problem. Charlie loves having him over. How did the big performance go?”

“About what you’d expect. Three of them are surprisingly good dancers.”

“And the rest?”

Mark put his hands in his pockets and leaned back on his heels, his eyes focused on the ground. He shouldn’t laugh he reminded himself and bit his lip. The Senior-itas had worked hard and put on a recital in front of a crowd of tourists. That took a lot of courage, in his opinion.

“I think the rest were dancing to their own beats. But I guess they’re angling to perform at the Fourth so you might get a chance to catch them.”

Phil chuckled. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Mark nodded and walked over to the kitchen table. The smell of apple pie wafted over to him and his mouth watered. Had Trish been baking in this heat? He scanned the countertop but when his search came up empty for dessert, he pulled a chair out and reluctantly sat down.

“So, I told her…” Mark muttered, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists on the table top. From under his eyelashes, he glanced up at his buddy. Phil had followed him over and sat down in the chair next to him.

“Told her?” Phil knit his brows together.

“I told Lizzie about Cynthia.”

“You did? Why? I thought you were just work colleagues.” Phil searched his face.

If he’s looking for a clue about how I’m feeling, I hope he’ll tell me what he finds
.

Mark focused on his fists again. He didn’t know why he’d told her either. He flinched. No he knew why he told her. But he hated this feeling that he had to defend his actions. If he was interested in a woman, who cared?

“I don’t know what we are but we aren’t that,” Mark replied. “We aren’t work colleagues. We’re…more than that.”

“So…what happened?”

“She was a surprisingly good listener.”

“Why were you surprised?”

Mark looked up at Phil and shook his head. His face had softened, he didn’t look at Mark with judgment or confusion or concern. Mark spread his hands flat on the table and relaxed.

“Doesn’t the situation make me sound like I’m… broken?” Mark began, struggling to put into words the thoughts that had swirled before him as present and intangible as the wind. “Like there is something wrong with me? I was with the woman for so long. I even lived with her and she completely blindsided me.”

“What does any of that have to do with you? I’m confused. Cynthia was just as complicit in your relationship as you were. You initially hit it off and were great but something changed. Or maybe she needed those years to realize who she was. Why does that mean you’re broken?”

“Because all of my instincts are wrong. When I thought Cynthia wanted me to propose, she wanted to end our relationship for good.”

“I think your instincts were wrong about her. But that situation is behind you now. You can’t make big unilateral statements that your instincts are wrong. Give yourself a break.”

“Did you ever know? Did you ever see anything?” Mark put his head in his hands, massaging his temples.

Discussing his past hurts again, exasperated him. He didn’t know what good would come from replaying their relationship. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself either.

“I saw that she wasn’t into you. I think I told you that for the last two years.” Phil reached over and pulled one of his wrists, forcing Mark to drop his hands from his face.

“Yeah, I guess you did,” Mark admitted sheepishly.
Not that I listened, even if I should have.
He sighed.

“Look, you can’t keep beating yourself up about this. Your mistake was getting back together with her. If you had stayed broken up after the first break up or even the second, you’d have been fine. But you guys kept getting back together. That’s the problem. Blame your own laziness. You kept falling back into a comfortable pattern. That’s not love. That’s routine.”

“I guess you’re right,” Mark sighed.

“Of course I am. So…what happened? You talked to her about Cynthia and then?”

“I brought up work and she shut me out. And then asked for a raise, which I guess is completely reasonable. But I didn’t have anything to say, there’s things going on at work I can’t talk about.”