A Taste of Spring novel Chapter 43

Dez felt the sting of betrayal pulse through him. He took a step back. He lifted his hand to his mouth then lowered it.

"Yeah, I paid her," Fallon announced again.

He didn't have to repeat it. Dez got it the first time. He understood Fallon loud and clear. Spring was paid to "lift his spirits..."

The first step he took felt clumsy and sluggish, but as he took the second and third he attempted to move with more precision. Dez pulled open the office door. He heard conversation around him, he noticed people standing in the aisles, watching him as he walked by them.

"Lover's quarrel," Percy sneered as he passed.

The sound of a commotion going on behind him didn't halt Dezmond's steps. Gasps and the sounds of furniture being moved didn't stop him. He thought he even heard Fallon calling his name but he didn't turn back. None of it mattered. Fallon no longer mattered.

She was paid.

(I'm a fool.)

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FIVE HOURS LATER

The drive to his parent's home in upstate New York didn't even register. Hell, the truth was, Dez didn't remember the trip in its entirety. He didn't recall stopping at red lights or even merging onto the highway. All he was aware of was pulling up along the curb in front of his childhood home and parking where he still sat, staring at his steering wheel.

The sound of tapping jolted Dez to attention. He turned to see his father bent over looking at him through the driver's window.

"Are you going to sit here all night?"

What am I even doing here? he asked himself.

"Get out of the car son."

Dez sighed as he undid his seat belt. He waited until his father backed up before he opened the car door and stepped out. "Hey Pop."

"Dez," his father said as he extended his hand.

Dez shook his father's hand. It was the way Marcel Rey greeting everyone, including family.

"Your mother is brewing some coffee. She made her famous cinnamon buns," Marcel said as they traveled up the walkway.

Inside, Dez sat at the dining table with his hands around his coffee mug. His head hung. His chest still ached from being betrayed and lied to.

"He should have called," Marcel whispered in the background. "We could have been...busy."

Dez refrained from shaking his head. His father was one of those people who lacked the ability to speak quietly. And to be talking about what he thought they were talking about...

"Shh, he'll hear you."