Please close, she prayed as she watched him turn the corner towards the elevator, naked and still half-hard. Please close.
As if it were in a perfectly timed movie, the elevator slid shut when he was inches away.
Effie ran to the car, hood down, and let the demanding Illinois rain pound at her head. She locked the door immediately and pulled away from the curb without looking. Behind her, a horn blared and she saw a white Escalade veer to the left to avoid hitting her.
“Three years,” she said aloud as she wiped at the tears that streamed down her cheeks. “Three goddamned years.”
It was a long time to spend, to waste, on anyone. And that was after dating King all of high school!
Oh, the years I have thrown away on the Smith brothers. Damn them both.
“I’m a freaking moron,” she said, thinking that she needed a drink.
Effie searched the little artisanal boutiques in Thorne’s neighborhood for some kind of bar. Anything that didn’t have twenty dollar cocktails and entrees that cost an entire day’s pay would do. But there was nothing in Thorne’s hoity-toity neighborhood that even came close to what she needed right now.
Actually, what she needed most was just somewhere to disappear.
Finally, she pulled into a little tapas place advertising happy hour. Effie parked in the far back of the lot and watched as impeccable couples squealed as the valet opened doors with expansive black umbrellas.
She couldn’t get the image of that cheater out of her mind. The thought of her lookalike peering over the top of Thorne’s thigh made her eyes well up. She felt rage building in her chest, scraping at the lining of her throat, desperate to escape.
“How could you do this to me?” she screamed into the empty cabin of the car. Finally, her voice had arrived.
She hadn’t been stupid. She knew that when Thorne first approached her it was to get under King’s skin. After all, she and King had only broken up the month before.
There she was, sitting at a Starbuck’s, staring into her drink. Thinking of how King had never even called or wrote in the month since he’d left.
He’d forgotten all about her, even though he’d called her the love of his life. So when she saw his big frame that day…
She could admit to being more than a little crushed to realize that it was Thorne. And he’d come looking for her with a proposition.
Effie had to admit, part of her liked the idea. She’d reveled in it a little. If she and Thorne could both piss off King, why not?
It’s not like King was standing around waiting for them. He was long gone.
They hadn’t ever said anything about it aloud, but it was a kind of unspoken agreement. Then things got more complicated. Messier.
When Thorne said he loved her three months in, she said it back because they were already in the thick of it. Plus, her mom pushed her insistently in his direction.
“But he’s King’s brother!” she’d argued. She remembered the night clearly. Effie was still in her high school graduation robe.
“So what?” her mom asked. “You and King, it was nothing. Puppy love. Thorne is the respectable one. The mature one. And his family already loves you!”
“Mom—”
“Relationships aren’t just about two people,” her mom said, which made Effie clamp her mouth shut.
Three years later Thorne proposed to her. Thorne had taken her, her mom, and Yaya out to a posh restaurant where he ordered for everyone. Before the appetizers even arrived, Thorne leaned across the table and took her mom’s hand.
“I want you to know, Effie and I getting married? It means I’m committed to you, too. And Yaya. You don’t need to worry about a thing anymore. I’ll take care of you.”
When her mom’s eyes had welled up with tears, Effie knew she was doing the right thing. Besides, Thorne was a nice enough guy. At least she’d thought so.
“Is this how you’re taking care of me? Of us?” she asked, but the empty car gave no answers. “Motherfucker!”
The word, rare coming from her lips, made her shiver.
Don’t you dare cry over him, she scolded herself. Not a single tear!
Effie sniffed and gazed at the restaurant through the cascade of rainfall. As much as it sounded right, she couldn’t bring herself to drink now. Least of all in a public place surrounded by happy couples.
Instead, she picked up the phone and scrolled to MOM.
“Mom?” she asked when her mom slurred a sleepy “Hello?” into the phone. “Where are you?”
“A debutante ball, where do you think?”
Effie heard the agitation in her mom’s voice.
“Mom, I have to go on a work trip for a conference. It’s really sudden, I just found out today. Can you take care of Yaya? We’re… we’re out of thyme. And maybe oregano.”
“Effie, seriously? Now isn’t a good time. You don’t live with Thorne yet, you know. You live here. With us. Where you have responsibilities.”
What the hell else are you doing besides locking yourself up in the house all day and watching television?
“I’m sorry, but this is really important for my career—”
“You’re a glorified pet groomer, Effie. What kind of emergency could it be?” Effie heard the slam of the phone on the other end. Sometimes she thought her mom kept a landline just for that purpose.
“Screw it,” she said. She started up her car and tried to decide where to go.
It was getting dark and the roads back to her place would be at a crawl for rush hour by now. She would need someplace to go that was outside of town. She thought about renting a hotel, but the idea of spending a lot of cash when the future was so uncertain unnerved her. She went through a few ideas and discarded a few places, and then hit on a possible answer.
The Smith family cabin.
King had taken her countless times in high school to his family’s little local getaway in the hills. She’d lost her virginity there.
Effie rustled through the glove box, and hoped against hope that the little spare key box contained the cabin key. She grabbed the keys, and almost sighed with relief when she saw it.
A big golden key, labeled “Cabin”, hung on a little pine tree keyring.
She pulled out of the parking lot, her destination set in stone.
By the time she pulled into the gravel lot, it was dark. But walking into the familiar cabin with its soaring cathedral ceilings, she was instantly comforted by the warmth. Effie lit a fire and dug through the wine reserve for a rich dessert wine. Something that would get her drunk and still nuzzle her with sugar.
She curled up next to the fire and wrapped herself in a heavy wool Pendleton blanket. Just as she got comfortable though, the image of Thorne fucking some strange woman came into Effie’s brain and wouldn’t leave.
All right, she told herself begrudgingly. You can cry a little. Just for a few minutes.
She started to think about how entangled she and Thorne were, about how much she had allowed herself to rely on him for… well, everything. Sorting it out would be next to impossible.
And that wasn’t even taking into account their upcoming nuptials. Only last week, they’d put a deposit down on a venue for the