a bottle of Pinot Grigio and two glasses, and wait. And wait. And wait.
He doesn’t get home until eight p.m., and when he stomps in through the door, he slams down his briefcase on the new oak entryway storage bench and doesn’t even look at me. That makes me mad all over again.
I toss aside all the words of wisdom Pamela bestowed on me, stalk over, and throw my bag with the T-shirts at him. He catches it with one hand and sets it down next to his briefcase.
“Here’s a stupid present for you!”
He opens his briefcase and pulls out two baggies, one of duck treats, and one of cat treats. “Well, here’s a stupid present for your stupid cat and duck!” he shouts. Then he yells over at Aceto and Ducktape, who are huddled together on Aceto’s cat bed, watching us with alarm. “You’re not stupid! Most of the time! I’m just pissed off!”
Then, scowling, he reaches into my bag and pulls out two T-shirts. I had the shop print “Team Rilocke” on them. There’s one extra-large, and one small.
He looks down at them, then up at me. Some of the anger seems to leak from his body, and his shoulders slump. The heated anger in his gaze cools, and his mouth quirks into a half-smile. “That’s…that’s pretty cool.”
“I thought we were kind of a team, Donovan. For the summer, at least. Why do you not want anything to do with me?” I demand.
“I never don’t want anything to do with you. Wait, that was a double negative. Let’s sit down.” He holds on to the T-shirts, pressing them up against his chest as we walk over to the couch.
“Jettisoning our entire relationship just because I didn’t ask you permission to sell my own car feels pretty extreme. You didn’t even care enough to try to fix things, you just went into instant rejection mode.”
We flop down side by side, and he turns to face me, hurt shining from his sea-glass-green eyes. “I do care. That’s why I overreacted. And I’m sorry. My parents have two communication modes when they’re upset with each other. It’s either yelling accusations, or icy withdrawal. That’s the only way I know to handle things. I guess I opted for the second of those, and it just made things worse.”
I hug myself as a river of emotion courses through my veins. “If we’re going to survive this summer, we both need to be able to tell each other if we’re feeling hurt or angry about something the other person did. I’m not a freaking mind-reader, Donovan. To me, it feels like you’re trying to control what I do, and you’re going to check out on me if I don’t come to you for permission to sell my own damn property. That’s not okay.”
“You’re right. It’s not. Next time I’m upset with you, I’ll put on my big boy pants and tell you why. The thing is, it wasn’t the sale of the car, it was the fact that you didn’t come to me for help and you never do.” He grimaces, running his fingers through his hair. “I was humiliated when Carrie told me you’d sold your car, and worse than that, I felt completely shut out. You won’t let me help you with anything. You won’t even let me make coffee or cook for you. Well, there was the steaks that one time, but you did that just to prove a point to your cousin. And you actually said that you could get rides from your friends. Like I’d rather make you take a taxi than give you a ride into town? You make me feel like a total asshole, and also completely disposable.” His words are raw with emotion, and I’m shocked at the naked vulnerability in his voice. “You won’t even trust me with coffee, Sienna. I just want you to let me in. I know I screwed up when I was younger. Are you ever going to give me a chance to show I’ve grown up?”
His hurt washes over me and becomes my own. “I didn’t know you wanted a real chance,” I mumble.
He shoots me a reproving look. “I’ve said so several times. You just didn’t want to hear it.”
“You’re right. Pamela just gave me a lecture about how I’m not my mother, and I need to stop letting her define my relationships, blah blah blah.” I heave a sigh. “I’m afraid of needing anybody. I hate needing anybody.