It Ends with Us

Chapter Twenty-Eight
After Ryle left me his keys this afternoon; I debated going back to our new
apartment. I even had a cab pull up to the building, but I couldn’t force
myself out of the car. I knew if I went back there today, I’d probably see
Allysa at some point. I’m not ready to explain the stitches on my forehead
to her. I’m not ready to see the kitchen where Ryle’s harsh words cut
through me. I’m not ready to walk into the bedroom where I was
completely destroyed.
So instead of returning to my own home, I took the cab back to Atlas’s
house. It feels like my only safe zone right now. I don’t have to confront
things when I’m hiding out here.
Atlas has already texted me twice today checking on me, so when I get a
text a few minutes before seven o’clock in the evening, I assume it’s from
him. It’s not; it’s from Allysa.
Allysa: You home from work yet? Come up and visit us, I’m already bored.
My heart sinks when I read her text. She has no idea what happened
between me and Ryle. I wonder if Ryle even told her he left for England
today. My thumb types and erases and types some more as I try to come up
with a good excuse as to why I’m not there.
Me: I can’t. I’m in the emergency room. Hit my head on that shelf in the storage
room at work. Getting stitches.
I hate that I lied to her, but it’ll save me from having to explain the cut
and also why I’m not home right now.
Allysa: Oh no! Are you alone? Marshall can come sit with you since Ryle is gone.
Okay, so she knows Ryle left for England. That’s good. And she thinks
we’re fine. This is good. That means I have at least three months before I
have to tell her the truth.
Look at me, sweeping shit under the rug just like my mother.
Me: No, I’m fine. I’ll be finished up by the time Marshall could even get here. I’ll
come by tomorrow after work. Give Rylee a kiss for me.

---

I lock the screen on my phone and set it on my bed. It’s dark outside
now, so I immediately see the scroll of the headlights as someone pulls
into the driveway. I instantly know that it isn’t Atlas, because he uses the
driveway to the side of the house and parks in the garage. My heart begins
to race as fear rushes through me. Is it Ryle? Did he find out where Atlas
lives?
Moments later, there’s a loud knock at the front door. More like
pounding. The doorbell also rings.
I tiptoe to the window and barely move the curtains over far enough to
take a look outside. I can’t see who’s at the door, but there’s a truck in the
driveway. It doesn’t belong to Ryle.
Could it be Atlas’s girlfriend? Cassie?
I grab my phone and make my way down the hallway, toward the living
room. The pounding on the door and the chime of the doorbell are still
going off simultaneously. Whoever is at the door is being ridiculously
impatient. If it is Cassie, I already find her extremely annoying.
“Atlas!” a guy yells. “Open the damn door!”
Another voice—also male—yells, “My balls are freezing up! They’re
raisins, man, open the door!”
Before I open the door and let them know Atlas isn’t home, I text him,
hoping he’s about to pull in the driveway and deal with this himself.
Me: Where are you? There are two men at your front door and I have no idea if I
should let them in.
I wait through more presses of the doorbell and more pounding, but
Atlas doesn’t immediately text me back. I finally walk to the door and
leave the chain bolted, but unlock the deadbolt and open the door a few
inches.
One of the guys is tall, about six feet or so. Despite the youthful look to
his face, his hair is salt and pepper. Black with a little bit of gray sprinkled
in. The other one is shorter by a few inches, with sandy brown hair and a
baby face. They both look to be in their late twenties, maybe early thirties.
The tall one’s face twists into confusion. “Who are you?” he asks, peeking
through the door.
“Lily. Who are you?”
The shorter one pushes in front of the taller one. “Is Atlas here?”
I don’t want to tell them no, because then they’ll know I’m here alone.
I don’t necessarily hold much trust in the male population this week.

---

The phone in my hand rings and all three of us jump from the
unexpectedness of it. It’s Atlas. I swipe the answer button and bring it to
my ear.
“Hello?”
“It’s fine, Lily, they’re just friends of mine. I forgot it was Friday, we
always play poker on Fridays. I’ll call them now and tell them to leave.”
I look back at the two of them and they’re just standing there, watching
me. I feel bad that Atlas feels like he has to cancel his plans just because
I’m crashing at his house. I shut the door and unlock the deadbolt, then
open the door again, motioning them inside.
“It’s fine, Atlas. You don’t have to cancel your plans. I was about to go
to bed anyway.”
“No, I’m on my way. I’ll have them leave.”
I still have the phone pressed to my ear when the two men enter the
living room.
“See you soon,” I say to Atlas and then end the call. The next few
seconds are awkward as the guys assess me and I assess them.
“What are your names?”
“I’m Darin,” the tall one says.
“Brad,” the shorter one says.
“Lily,” I say to them, even though I already told them my name. “Atlas
will be here soon.” I move to close the door and they seem to relax a little.
Darin heads into the kitchen and helps himself to Atlas’s refrigerator.
Brad takes off his jacket and hangs it up. “Do you know how to play
poker, Lily?”
I shrug. “It’s been a few years, but I used to play with friends in college.”
Both of them walk toward the dining room table.
“What happened to your head?” Darin asks as he takes a seat. He asks it
so casually, like it doesn’t even cross his mind that it might be a sensitive
subject.
I don’t know why I have an urge to give him the naked truth. Maybe I
just want to see how someone will react when they find out my own
husband did this to me.
“My husband happened. We got into a fight two nights ago and he
head-butted me. Atlas took me to the emergency room. They gave me six
stitches and told me I was pregnant. Now I’m hiding out here until I figure
out what to do.”

---

Poor Darin is frozen, halfway between standing and sitting. He has no
idea how to respond to that. Based on the look on his face, I think he’s
convinced I’m crazy.
Brad pulls out his chair and takes a seat, pointing at me. “You should
get some Rodan and Fields. The amp roller works wonders for scarring.”
I immediately laugh at his random response. Somehow.
“Jesus, Brad!” Darin says, finally sinking into his seat. “You’re worse than
your wife with this direct sales shit. You’re like a walking infomercial.”
Brad raises his hands in defense. “What?” he says innocently. “I’m not
trying to sell her anything, I’m being honest. The stuff works. You’d know
that if you’d use it on your damn acne.”
“Screw you,” Darin says.
“It’s like you’re trying to be a perpetual teenager,” Brad mutters. “Acne
isn’t cool when you’re thirty.”
Brad pulls out the chair next to him while Darin begins shuffling a deck
of cards. “Have a seat, Lily. One of our friends decided to be an idiot and
get married last week, and now his wife won’t let him come to poker night
anymore. You can be his fill-in until he gets a divorce.”
I had every intention of hiding out in my room tonight, but these two
make it hard to walk away. I take a seat next to Brad and reach across the
table. “Hand me those,” I say to Darin. He’s shuffling the cards like a one-
armed infant.
He raises an eyebrow and pushes the deck of cards across the table. I
don’t know much about card games, but I can shuffle cards like a pro.
I separate the cards into two piles and scoot them together, pressing my
thumbs to the ends, watching as they beautifully intertwine. Darin and
Brad are staring at the deck of cards, when there’s another knock on the
door. This time the door swings open without pause and a guy walks in
dressed in what looks like a very expensive tweed jacket. There’s a scarf
wrapped around his neck, and he begins to unwind it as soon as he slams
the door behind him. He nudges his head in my direction as he walks
toward the kitchen. “Who are you?”
He’s older than the other two, probably in his mid-forties.
Atlas definitely has an interesting mix of friends.
“This is Lily,” Brad says. “She’s married to an asshole and just found out
she’s pregnant with the asshole’s baby. Lily, this is Jimmy. He’s pompous
and arrogant.”

---

“Pompous and arrogant are the same thing, idiot,” Jimmy says. He pulls
out the chair next to Darin and nudges his head at the cards in my hands.
“Did Atlas plant you here to hustle us? What kind of average person knows
how to shuffle cards like that?”
I smile and begin to pass cards out to each of them. “I guess we’ll have
to play a round to find out.”
• • •
We’re on our third round of bets when Atlas finally walks in. He closes the
door behind him and looks around at the four of us. Brad said something
funny right before Atlas opened the door, so I’m in the middle of a fit of
laughter when Atlas locks eyes with me. He nods his head toward the
kitchen and begins walking in that direction.
“Fold,” I say, laying my cards flat on the table as I stand up to follow
him. When I get to the kitchen, he’s standing where he isn’t visible to the
guys at the table. I walk over to him and lean against the counter.
“You want me to ask them to leave?”
I shake my head. “No, don’t do that. I’m actually enjoying it. It’s
keeping my mind off things.”
He nods and I can’t help but notice how he smells like herbs.
Rosemary, specifically. It makes me wish I could see him in action at his
restaurant.
“You hungry?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Not really. I ate some leftover pasta a couple hours
ago.”
My hands are pressed into the counter on either side of me. He takes a
step closer and puts one of his hands over mine, brushing his thumb
across the top of it. I know he doesn’t mean for it to be anything more
than a comforting gesture, but when he touches me, it feels like a whole
lot more. A rush of warmth moves up my chest and I immediately drop my
eyes to our hands. Atlas pauses his thumb for a second, like he feels it, too.
He pulls his hand away and backs up a step.
“Sorry,” he mutters, turning toward the refrigerator, pretending to look
for something. It’s obvious he’s trying to spare me from the awkwardness
of what just happened.

---

I walk back to the table and pick up my cards for the next round. A
couple of minutes later, Atlas walks over and takes the seat next to me.
Jimmy shuffles out a round of new cards to everyone. “So, Atlas. How do
you and Lily know each other?”
Atlas picks up his cards one at a time. “Lily saved my life when we were
kids,” he says, matter-of-fact. He glances over at me and winks, and I drown
in guilt for the way that wink makes me feel. Especially at a time like this.