Page 93 of Inseparable
“Where to?” he asks, easing the car slowly out onto the road.
“Stop at the nearest diner you can find.”
He looks at me curiously, but I just stare out the window. My emotions are shot to pieces. I’ve spent what feels like eternity searching for her, but I never stopped to actually plan what I’d say when I found her. There is so much to be said, and I don’t know where to start.
Her foot taps nervously off the floor, and she chews on the corner of her lip. The familiar gesture tears me up inside. This is the woman I love, but she’s almost a virtual stranger. I know nothing of her life these past years. Nothing of the woman she is today. Or the hardships she’s endured. “How did you find me?” she asks without looking at me. “How did you know I lived here?”
“I didn’t know you lived here. We’re in town for the weekend for Rick’s bachelor party. Never in a million years did I expect to find you here.” I move a little closer, dismayed when she discernibly flinches. “I’ve searched all over for you, Ange. I never stopped looking. And the irony that I’d bump into you so coincidentally isn’t lost on me, trust me.” My laugh is sharp.
Finally, she tilts her face up to look at me, and I’m falling all over again. I sit on my hands to stop myself touching her. I want to bundle her into my arms and never let her out of my sight again, but I can’t come on too heavy. I won’t scare her off. “You’re still so unbelievably beautiful, Ange,” I admit, my voice sounding all choked up.
“You know what they say—beauty is only skin deep. I’m completely ugly on the inside.” She speaks without a trace of reticence, without any feeling. This isn’t self-deprecation, because she’s detached from any and all emotion; she’s merely stating a fact.
“I can’t agree.”
A flash of anger shimmers in her eyes. “You know nothing of the person I am now. Nothing.” This time I detect the bitter note in her tone. And she’s wrong, because I still remember the person I used to be, and, unless I’m sorely mistaken, Ange uses alcohol as a crutch. She’s clearly hammered, her eyes watering and bloodshot, slurring her words, and unsteady on her feet, but she’s functioning, and still capable of firing back retorts, and you only have that sliver of awareness with repeated abuse. I should know. I’ve walked in her shoes.
“Maybe I know you more than you realize.”
She barks out a laugh, her look lethal as she glares at me. “You know jack shit, Devin, and that’s the way I like it. I left you for a reason, and it wasn’t so you could chase halfway around the country looking for me. This is a waste of your time; I don’t want you here.”
“I think I’ll be the judge of that.” It’s a miracle I sound so in control when it feels like I’m breaking apart inside.
Danny sends me a sympathetic look through the mirror as he pulls up in front of The Roadhouse Diner and kills the engine. I get out, rounding the back of the car and opening the door for Ange. She glowers at me but slides out, shucking my hand away and trotting into the diner by herself.
“Good luck, man,” Danny says through the half-open window. “I have a feeling you’ll need it.”
We’re seated across from one another, and Ange is being petulant, refusing to give me any more than one-word clipped answers.
“Goddamn it, Ange.” I slam my hand down on the table. “Just fucking talk to me. How difficult can that be?”
“I told you already,” she hisses. “I’m not interested in talking to you. Period. I said everything that needed to be said before I left. You shouldn’t have come here. Whatever we had is in the past. A stupid childhood crush. We’re adults now, and it’s time you accept the truth.”
“And what exactly is that?” I sneer. “What crap are you spouting as truth these days?”
She strains across the table, her eyes narrowing in fury. “That you and I are in the past. That there’s absolutely no reason why you should still be searching for me after all this time. That I have a life, and it’s time you got one too. That I’ve moved on.” She gulps, digging her fingers into the edge of the Formica table. “You mean nothing to me anymore, Devin. Nothing.” She sits back in the seat, staring blankly at me. “Like I said, you’re wasting your time. I don’t want to have anything to do with you. In fact, I pretty much despise you and everything you stand for now.”
Her words have the desired effect, slamming into me like a savage blow to the chest. I’m reeling from the impact, but I also recognize bluster when I see it. She wants to believe that’s the truth, but it’s not. I see behind the façade. She’s doing everything in her power to push me away, but the signs are there.
The waitress sets two plates down in front of us, and I thank her. Ange starts wolfing her pancakes down, and it’s like someone’s taken a sledgehammer to my heart. Even though she’s whippet thin, and clearly not looking after herself properly, my girl still has one hell of an appetite, and I’m glad to see it. I need these little things to remind me why I’m here, why I’m doing this, when she’s trying everything in her power to turn me away.
I wait until I’m completely calm before responding to her. “If you don’t want anything to do with me, why do you still wear my tattoo on your wrist, my locket around your neck, and why did you take my name?” Her fork clangs to the table, and surprise is splayed across her face. My mouth curls into a smug smile. Can’t help it. “I’m a detective, Ange. Did you really think I wouldn’t have looked up everything I could about you the minute you reappeared in my life?” I push my uneaten plate away, leaning my arm along the top of the booth. “I’ve got to hand it to you, baby doll. That was clever. Real clever. I did think about it, you know. I’ve run numerous nationwide searches for Angelina Morgan and Angelina Carter, but I’d never have thought to search for my own name.”
I can’t describe my feelings in the moment I realized she’d assumed my name. “Roberta Devina Morgan.” I roll the name she goes by now over my tongue, loving how it sounds. “Or Ro to your friends, I believe. I like it. I like it a lot.”
“It wasn’t for your benefit,” she says, pouting, “and there’s no need to act so smug. I was a fucking mess back then, and it was the only name that sprung to mind, so you can quit acting all sentimental over it. It means nothing. Just like you.” She stands up. “I’ve had enough of this. I’m leaving. My boyfriend will be wondering where I am.” That’s news to me, and I don’t hide my disappointment in time. She leans across the table, putting her face right in mine. Noxious fumes waft through the air, and I close my nostrils off for a few seconds. “And I still need to get off, seeing as someone”—she pokes a slender finger in my chest—“ruined my fun tonight.”
“Does your boyfriend know you fuck random douchebags in public?”
She straightens up, tilting her head to the side, wobbling unsteadily on her feet. Clutching the edge of the table, she smirks at me. “That’s for me to know and you to find out,de-tec-tive.”
She enunciates the word, her voice dripping with sarcasm, and I’m done. It’s almost three a.m. and I can’t do this anymore tonight. Disappointment, hurt, and regret wage a vicious war inside me. “Have it your way,” I say, fishing out my wallet and slapping some cash on the table. “But we’re not done talking. I’ll drop you home and then you and I are making plans to meet tomorrow.”
A laugh bursts out of her. “Eh, yeah, don’t think so.”
“I can still arrest you.”
She holds out her wrists. “Arrest me then.”
