My Dad's Bestfriend novel Chapter 34

Evelyn

As Dad knocked on the door, there was no response. The eerie silence emanating from his room only intensified the twisting feeling in my gut. I wasn't sure what I should do. If Dad weren't here, I might have just barged through the door without a second thought.

He was a grown man, fully capable of handling his emotions, so why did I feel so anxious? Why did I have this overwhelming need to help him, even when I wasn't sure if he actually needed me?

Fuck! I hadn't thought I'd end up falling for him so deep. It felt insane. I was being driven to the brink of madness.

"Jacob, I know you're in there. Please, just open the door, okay?" Dad asked.

But once again, there was no answer from Jacob.

"Jacob?"

Was he even in there?

"Man, open the door. This is my house!"

My eyes widened, and I impulsively slapped Dad's arm, "Dad! You can't solve this like you solve our arguments. He's not your kid, for God's sake!" I whispered urgently.

"Then what am I supposed to do?" he asked, lowering his voice to match mine.

"I don't know, just try to talk to him gently, maybe?"

"Damn, it's not going to work," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "He won't open the door. I'll have to come back later when he's calmed down. You should go back to your room too. I'm going to take a nap; this is stressing me out."

"What?"

"You heard me. Now get back to your room," Dad said as he walked away, eventually disappearing from my sight. He seemed clearly frustrated and tense.

Of course, Jacob needed time. But I was going to die out of stress in the meantime.

God, everything had been so perfect just a few minutes ago, but now it all seemed messed up, fucked up, and ruined by just one person's arrival. The feeling of something bad occurring wouldn't leave me.

Enough! I can't stand there any longer. I need to speak to him.

I slowly placed my hand on the doorframe, slightly leaning my head against it, and started, "Hey Jacob. Dad has left," my voice was soft and calm, "I know you're mad at him, and you have every reason to be. But, would you please open the door for me and let me in? I just want to talk... that's it."

The silence in response disheartened me, causing doubts and questions to stir awake in my head. I wasn't even sure if it was the right decision for me to try to make him speak.

"If you don't want me here, I understand. You can take your time. I know it's hard for you. But remember, you told me that... holding onto things only makes it harder for us? I'm here to help, just like you helped me at that time. You don't need to be alone when you're having a hard time," I sighed, "I know I'm not always mature or understanding, but I can try. I can try to make you feel better. Can you please open the—"

The next second, the door opened.

I exhaled in relief as I watched him. It seemed like he had freshened up; I could see that he'd changed into a white shirt and slacks. However, before I could say a word, my eyes trailed to spot the suitcase on his bed—he was packing.

"Are you really planning to leave?" I asked, my voice barely rising above a whisper.

"I am not planning. I am leaving, Evelyn," he replied, walking back into his room. His cold tone was unfamiliar to me—he had never been like this before.

"Jacob, drop this idea. You don't have to leave because of her," I implored, grabbing his hand to stop him from packing, "Dad didn't invite her intentionally. It was a mistake. The invitation list was handled by Clara and me, and we had no idea about this. I'm sorry for whatever happened today. Let's talk this through and find a solution together."

"Evelyn, I don't know what you're expecting from me, but..." he hesitated before pulling his hand away, "I've been clear with you from day one that I'm not the right man for you. I'm not the person you should be with. So, let's end this here, okay?"

What the hell was wrong with him?

"Where is this coming from, Jacob? What does any of this have to do with you and me?"

"It doesn't matter. It is what it is. I can never give you what you want, and how long can we keep fooling ourselves? Eventually, it will come to an end. It's better if we stop here, today," he spoke, sounding indifferent and casual, which hurt me even more, "You're young and beautiful, and I'm sure you'll find someone new. Someone your age. It won't be complicated then, and you can be happier. So, it's best if we—"

"Yeah, you're right," she chuckled and hugged me, "Don't cry anymore, okay? Jerks come and go, only real men stay."

A laugh unintentionally escaped my throat, "Okay, got it. See you then."

"See you soon."

As she headed out of the room, the smile faded from my face, and tears made their way down my cheeks again.

God damn it! Why can't I seem to stop crying? This is awful.

I wiped my tears and brushed my hair back with my fingers, trying to compose myself, "I can get through this. He wasn't even my boyfriend yet—I can forget him."

Can I forget him?

Maybe not.

I tried to stifle a sob as it threatened to break through.

I hated crying. It just made me feel so weak. But there was no way I could stop myself, either. I could only hope that I would be able to cope with these conflicting, overwhelming surges of emotions.

I wondered if he had left yet. Perhaps he had. He was so determined, after all!

Minutes passed until there was another knock on the door, "Nancy, don't tell me it's you. The previous two have already checked on me, so make your way back as soon as possible," I attempted to sound as if I weren't crying, but my voice betrayed me.

A few seconds passed before a response came.

"It's not your friend. It's me."