Chapter 4

Julian's apartment felt smaller than usual, the walls closing in with every passing minute. Empty beer bottles littered his coffee table – the same coffee table where he'd first kissed Ava while Chloe was working late. The memory made him sick now. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered, pacing the length of his living room. His phone chimed. Another message from Carl. "Want to hit the club?" "Not tonight." "You can't mope forever." "Watch me." He scrolled through old photos he hadn't deleted yet. Photos of Chloe. Photos of them together. Happy photos. His thumb trembled over each image. There was their first vacation together in Key West. "Take my picture!" Chloe had laughed. "You're beautiful," he'd said. "You're biased." "Guilty as charged." He stopped at one – Chloe laughing at something he'd said, her eyes bright with joy. When was the last time anyone had looked at him that way? Certainly not Ava, with her calculating smirks and hollow kisses. Before he could stop himself, he pressed call on Chloe's number. One ring. Two rings. Three. "The number you have dialed is no longer in service." Of course. She'd changed her number. She'd erased him completely. "I deserve that," he said to the empty room. "I deserve all of this." His phone rang. Mom. "Julian? Are you home?" "Yeah." "Have you eaten?" "Not hungry." "Come over." "Mom—" "Now, Julian." He needed this. He needed his mother. Diana Walker had always been his voice of reason, even when he didn't want to hear it. Especially when he didn't want to hear it. The drive to his childhood home in Coral Gables took twenty minutes. Each house he passed seemed to mock him with their perfect lawns and happy families. "Turn around," he told himself. "She's going to tear you apart." But he kept driving. Diana opened the door in her gardening clothes, soil still fresh on her gloves. Her smile faded when she saw his face. "What did you do now?" she asked, not moving to let him in. "Mom, please. I need to talk." "About?" "Ava." "That woman." She spat the words. She studied him for a moment, then stepped aside. "Kitchen. I'll make coffee." Julian followed her through the house, past photos of himself growing up – honor roll certificates, baseball trophies, graduation pictures. Back when he was someone to be proud of. "Remember this one?" Diana pointed to a photo. "Your first baseball game." "I struck out three times." "But you kept swinging." "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means you used to have character." He stopped walking. "That's not fair." "Life isn't fair." She entered the kitchen. "Ask Chloe." Julian slumped into a chair. "Ava cheated on me." Diana's hands paused over the coffee maker. "Did she now?" "Multiple times." "With?" "Does it matter?" "Details always matter." "Multiple men." His voice cracked. "Rich men." "Better men?" "Mom!" "Just asking." The coffee maker gurgled to life. His mother turned to face him, arms crossed. "And?" "And?" Julian blinked. "Mom, I just told you—" "I heard you. Your girlfriend cheated on you. The same girlfriend you cheated with while dating that lovely Chloe Martinez." "I didn't come here for a lecture." "No?" Diana's eyebrow arched. "Why did you come?" Julian slumped in his chair. "Mom..." "Don't 'Mom' me." Diana's voice could have frozen the Miami summer. "You want sympathy? Go call one of your drinking buddies. You want the truth? I'll give it to you." She pulled out a chair and sat across from him, her green eyes – his eyes – hard as emeralds. "When's the last time you called your father?" "What does that—" "Answer the question." "Two months ago." "Why?" "I've been busy." "With Ava?" He looked away. "Yes." "He misses you." "Dad said that?" "He shouldn't have to." Diana leaned forward. "You destroyed something beautiful for something cheap. Chloe loved you. That girl would have moved mountains for you. And you threw it away for what? Some neighbor who smiled pretty and showed a little skin?" "It wasn't like that—" "Tell me then. What was it like?" "I... I don't know." "Finally. The truth." The coffee maker beeped. Neither of them moved to pour it. "I made a mistake," Julian whispered. "A mistake is forgetting to pay a bill. A mistake is running a red light. What you did? That was a choice. Multiple choices, over multiple months." She reached across the table and gripped his hand – not gently, but not cruelly either. "The Martinez family has been our friends for twenty years. Elena won't even look at me at church anymore. Roberto crosses the street when he sees your father coming. Do you understand what your 'mistake' did to all of us?" "How is Elena?" "Worried sick about her daughter." "Is Chloe okay?" Diana's laugh was sharp. "Now you care?" Tears burned behind Julian's eyes. "I'm sorry." "I'm not the one who needs to hear that." Diana stood up, finally pouring two cups of coffee. She placed one in front of him, black – the way he'd always taken it. "And from what Elena tells me, Chloe doesn't need to hear it either. She's moved on." "She changed her number." "Smart girl." Diana sipped her coffee. "Smarter than I raised my son to be, apparently." The coffee spread across the tile like a dark stain. Like his guilt. "So what do I do now?" "Now?" His mother's laugh was without humor. "Now you live with your choices. You feel this pain, this humiliation, this regret. You let it teach you something about karma, about consequences. And maybe, if you're lucky, you'll learn enough to never do this to another woman again." She stood up, signaling the end of the conversation. "I have roses to prune. Let yourself out when you're done feeling sorry for yourself." "Mom—" "And Julian?" She paused at the kitchen door. "Don't bring any more Avas home. I'm too old to watch you make the same mistakes twice." "I won't." "Promise?" "I promise." "Good." Her face hardened again. "Now go home and think about what you've done. And Julian? Leave Chloe alone. She deserves better than your apologies." Julian sat alone in his mother's kitchen, surrounded by the ghosts of his better self. Through the window, he could see her attacking her rose bushes with perhaps more force than necessary, cutting away the dead growth to make room for new life. If only his own redemption could be that simple. His fingers itched to call Chloe again. To try another number. To find some way to reach her. But his mother was right. Some mistakes couldn't be fixed with an apology. Some betrayals left permanent scars.