The Right Side of the Wrong Bed || Bruno Mars

Chapter 16

Bruno

Three days of arguing with Faye—No, not actually arguing, just discussing something we couldn't get along with—Okay, it's the same thing.

I didn't know when this argument was going to end and honestly, I can't take it anymore.

It was Saturday morning when I had found her sprawled on the kitchen floor, her back against the refrigerator door, looking totally lost. She thought she was supposed to go to work that day, she had told me. Then she remembered she was fired. I knew, even if she was denying it, that she had been sad about losing her work. Even now, I felt guilty because of it. On the same day she had told me she wanted to go with Debbie to New York. I had not approved of it.

Sunday evening, she had gone home from God knows where and told me she talked to Debbie and they had already booked flights. It had infuriated me. I had been convincing her not to go but she chose to be stubborn. She was getting on my nerves. Why was she so in a hurry to leave for New York? And why was I here talking to Meredith about this?

"I told her to go when I don't have work so I can come with her."

"And what? Watch over her like she's some ten-year-old?" Meredith chuckled shaking her head before drinking from her wine.

We were in the kitchen of her apartment, sitting at the counter. I didn't know what I was doing there. The last time I checked I was being rude to her and despised her. I guessed I really was just in dire need of talking to someone about this little dilemma I was having with Faye.

"You know," Meredith started, setting her glass down on the counter with her pale spidery hand. She leaned her arms on the surface and steadied her eyes on mine. They were pitch-black this time, the color of the sky in the dead of night. "You have to understand that Faye wants to see her past too," she said, a small amused expression was there drawn on her face.

"Past?" I echoed, creasing my forehead.

"Past," she bobbed her head once. "The people she simply chose to leave behind to be with you," said she while toying the pendant of her necklace. It was circular and ancient-looking, a figure of a star embossed on it—like a pentagram.

"You mean her past life."

"Yes. Her mother, her father, her friends, her job—” she enumerated swinging her eyes from side to side as if she was bored to death. She then stopped from doing so and fixed her gaze on me again. Her eyes now brightened with interest and amusement. “—Her Kyle," she drawled, her lips creeping into a wicked smile.

My grip around my glass of ram that she had offered me, tightened as though I was about to fall off my stool and it was the only thing I could hold on to.

I didn't speak.

"You're just scared, aren't you?" she smirked, slumping backward, and flicked a questionable brow up.

"Scared of what?" I hissed.

"You didn't want Faye to go because you're afraid she won't come back for you anymore," she grinned so wide, ear to ear.

"I—” I broke off. Was it that? I didn't want Faye to go because I fear she might not come back? New York was miles away from here, and Faye loved to go back there too damn much. There was a huge tendency for her to choose to stay when she gets there and abandon me—us. The horror of that thought threatened to overwhelm me that I almost gave out a scream as if I was being drowned in a well of endless misery and crying for help was the only thing that could save me. "It's true that I'm scared she might not come back," I spat. "Since I sure don't wanna face this life alone."