by Hart, Cary
He jerks away.
“Nick?”
“I can’t do this.” He takes a step back.
“What do you mean?”
“Clover,” he shakes his head, “you seem like a nice girl,” he clears his throat, “but apparently what you said you want and what he says you want—” Nick nods toward Austin, “—are two different things.” He takes another step back.
“I-I don’t…” I stumble over my words, confused as to what is going on.
“I’m sorry. It’s just not worth it. Good luck.” Nick turns and walks out the door, away from my perfect possibility.
I’m totally confused; being pulled in opposite directions. My brain the narrator, wanting to chase after Nick, and my feet the navigator, working their way to the man I know has all the answers and reason why I’m standing here alone.
“Austin?” I call out, but he just stands there with his head hanging low. “Austin?” I’m finally standing in front of him as I place my hand on his shoulder and spin him around.
“Clover…” he breathes out my name in a guilty breath.
“Do you care to tell me why I’m standing here all alone when I should be on my date with Nick?”
And just like that, the mention of his name is like flipping a switch. Austin, who just seconds ago seemed defeated, stands tall, ready to take the bullets I’m about to shoot his way.
“You should be thanking me.” He grunts out a laugh.
“Seriously? Thanking you?” I take a step forward. “Why would I thank you when I wanted to go on this date—and because of something that transpired between the two of you, I’m not?”
“That’s what you think, huh?” Austin shakes his head and lets out a knowing chuckle.
“Yeah.” I nod. “It is.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” he claims as his eyes roam above my head. The jerk doesn’t even have the balls to look me in the eye.
“Look at me, Austin.”
He does.
“Talk to me,” I plead.
“Clover…” he says my name, but this time, with pity.
“Please.” I close my eyes and blink back the tears. “I just need the truth.”
“He wasn’t right for you,” he casually confesses.
What? He wasn’t right for you?
That isn’t a confession, this is a coward’s way out. Austin would rather hide behind an excuse than face the truth.
I can’t even with him right now. My blood is boiling. How can he stand there, and admit, “He wasn’t right for you.”? I have never said one word about the women he’s chosen to date. I may have made fun a time or two, but interfere? Never.
This isn’t acceptable.
“Why, Austin?” A hand flies to my hip. “Why wasn’t he right for me?”
Austin looks up to the ceiling. “Jesus, Clover, are you really going to make me say it?”
“Yes!” I smack his chest. “Tell me.”
This is typical Austin. He’s never lied to me, but he will avoid me at all costs.
“Fine,” he huffs out. “You asked for it.”
“I did,” I agree.
“Nick Reed, your perfect match or whatever…only signed up for Unlucky in Love because he wanted to pitch his idea for his own radio show.”
I’m not sure why Austin thinks this is even an issue. Nick was completely honest about what brought him to New York in the first place. He’s already taken his mobile fitness app and turned it into something much bigger. What’s wrong with him wanting more?
“And?” I stand there, waiting for Austin to give me something else, because his reason just pisses me off.
Austin narrows his eyes. “Did you hear what I said? Nick was using this as an opportunity to further his career.”
“I heard you loud and clear, but it’s not exactly what you think.”
“He’s. Using. You.” Austin keeps up this back and forth, and honestly, I’m getting tired of it.
“God!” I groan out. “He’s not using me. He’s using you and your ridiculous sex show,” I spit out. “You weren’t at my table. You didn’t feel what was happening between us.”
“Fuck.” Austin pulls at his hair.
“If there’s more, just spit it out.”
“How can you be so naïve right now? Not only did he use the show, but he was going to use you—just like every other guy who applied for the show,” Austin seethes.
“How dare you!” I gasp.
“Clover.” Austin clasps his hands together as if he’s praying and lifts them to his lips. “It’s true.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Don’t say that. We did that interview…”
Austin takes a deep breath. “You declared on national airwaves you wanted to become a whore.” He takes a step closer. “And agreeing to this dating thing made you seem like one.”
I hold my hand to my chest, the pain of this conversation too much for me to bear. The tears begin to fall. My body begins to shake.
“Clover.” Austin tries to wrap his arms around me, but I jerk away. “Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean—”
“I know what this seems like, but I agreed to do this, not because I actually wanted to get laid. I mean, I do,” I swipe at the tears that slowly begin to fall, “but to prove to myself I am worth something. That I’m not some…” I search for the word he used. “Some naïve girl who turns a blind eye when their boyfriend of six years dumps them for some supermodel he happened to knock up.”
“Listen to what you just said,” Austin begs for me to hear him. “This situation is exactly like that.”
Damn!
“Come here, sweetie.” Austin stretches his arm out wide and wiggles his fingers, but his words are like a punch to the gut.
The one person I have always turned to to lift me up is tearing me down—even if it is with the truth.
Maybe Nick was using me, but isn’t that for me to decide, not Austin? How can I be seen as a strong woman if I don’t even have the chance to prove it? Healing takes time. It’s not something a magic wand, or these dates, or even Austin, can fix.
Only me.
“I can’t.” I shake my head, unable to say anything else.
This is the moment where our words fail us and our actions scold us.
The problem? The guy I run to has now become the guy I want to run from.
“I have to go.” I turn and do exactly that.
CHAPTER 21
CLOVER
You know that moment in the movies when the heroine runs away crying? Remember how graceful she looks? Yeah, that’s not me, and this is definitely not the movies.
My eyes are swollen, my face is blotchy, and my nose won’t stop running. I swear, each time I sniffle, it’s the snort heard around the world. Stupid echo.
And my new fun and flirty delicate pale pink dress? It’s so short, when I run, you can see everything, and when I say everything, I mean everything. Thanks to the new sheer panties I just had to buy. So, I had to make a difficult choice: flash the world or wipe my tears? I chose the makeup, tear-streaked face.
Stupid tears.
“Whoa!” Owen rounds the corner and steps right into my path.
I skid to a stop. “Sorry.”
I try to side-step him, but he has the same idea and we continue to dance.
“You okay?” Owen tilts his head, and I drop mine, causing my loose curls to fall in my face, blocking my vision—and hopefully Owen’s.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I sniffle.
“Clover.” Owen places a finger under my chin and lifts. “This doesn’t look like fine.”
“I’ll be okay.” I try to convince him and myself, but my trembling lip says otherwise.
“Clover.” Owen’s lips curve up in a slow, kind smile. “What happened?”
It’s just a silly question, but the moment the words leave his mouth, I fall into his arms. Two words asked by the wrong person. Except the right person is who caused this.
“I-I ca-can’t,” I choke out.
Sniffling. “You sure you want to know?” I lean back to give us both some space.
He chuckles. “Of course, I do.”
“Well.” I take a breath and let it all out. “Nick was supposed to be the real deal. Not like the others. They were okay, but Nick…I’ve been looking forward to his date since the moment he walked up to my table.” I lift my head up to see if Owen is even paying attention. His eyes are fixed firmly on my face, and he seems concerned, which is more than I can say for Austin. “I got this new dress, a mani-pedi, waxed everything, and bought some new panties.”
“So I saw.” Owen’s lips curve into a smile—a real, genuine smile.
I smack him on the chest. “Stop. It’s hard to look cute. These dresses weren’t made for damsels in distress.”
“Definitely not.” He laughs. “They’re more for taking off.” He clicks his tongue and smirks.
“Exactly!” I point my finger in the air. “Which is why I’m wearing it, but then I get here to see Austin and Nick going toe to toe, and next thing you know, mascara is running down my cheeks and I’m dateless.”
“Wait! Hold up.” Owen narrows his eyes. “Did you say dateless?”
“Yes! Are you not following along?” I circle his puzzled face. “Come on, Dr. Phil. Keep up. This hot mess is because Nick said I wasn’t worth it. Then Austin basically said I was too naïve to date.”
“Oh, is that what he said?” Owen seems surprised. “Well, let me inform you of what I think. You are beautiful, kind, funny, and have this raw innocence about you that’s appealing. I wouldn’t necessarily call you naïve.”
I sniffle, taking everything in. “Go on.” I wave him on.
He smiles.
So do I.
“You are very much datable.” Owen offers his arm. “Actually, how about we go on this fourth date?”
“If you haven’t noticed,” I point to my face, “I haven’t figured out how to cry pretty.” I chuckle. “I can’t go out like this.”
“Okay.” He stands up straight. “How about you go wash up, then we’ll grab some takeout and go back to my place.”
I know Owen is just trying to be nice and buy me some time from having to go home and deal with Austin, but it’s not necessary. I’m sure CJ is home and willing to go all voodoo doll on him.
“I don’t know.” My eyes wander around, trying to come up with a good excuse.
“Listen, you have a contract, I need ratings, and we can sit and bash Austin all night while we tweet about how much fun we’re having.” He winks.
“Owen.” I shake my head. “Austin’s your friend. You don’t have to do that.”
I give Owen an out from dealing with my crazy. I’m sure a part of him feels responsible for this mess, considering it was his idea in the first place.
“I want to.” He holds out his arm and nods toward the door. “Come on.”
Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea. Food, getting away from Austin, and not having to worry about whether or not the evening will lead to more. Dating is stressful.
“I see those wheels turning.” He taps the side of his head.
“I’m sorry…”
“How about I make it easy for you?” He reaches out and grabs my hand.
I look down between us, unsure of what’s going on here.
“Remember that contract I talked about?” Own cocks his brow, daring me to argue.
I don’t.
“Yeah, this is happening.”
“So it is,” I agree, giving his hand a little squeeze. “Lead the way.”
“When you said we were going back to your place, I thought you meant to your apartment?” I look out the window at the perfect little houses that pass us by. “Not in suburbia.”
“Well, I thought with everything that’s happened, it wouldn’t hurt for us both to get away.” Owen smiles, one hand on the steering wheel, and one on the console dividing us. “Plus, I like coming here.”
“Where is here?”
Cocking his head, Owen flashes me a smile. “My mom’s.”
“Wait? I’m meeting your—mother?” I pull down the visor to examine the damage. “Looking like this?” I slightly panic.
“No, unfortunately not. She’s in a nursing home.” Owen gives me a weak smile. “Basically, this is the only thing I have left of her.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I reach out and place my hand over his. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. I’m dealing with it.” Owen’s smile is weak, but his eyes light up when we pull up to a cute, brick, Cape Code style home. “Here we are.”
I unbuckle the seatbelt and reach for the Chinese takeout we picked up on our way. “Owen, this is perfect. I can see why you wouldn’t want to give this up.” I open the door and climb out.
“It wasn’t an easy decision. The taxes are outrageous and the utilities are kind of high for not even making my way over here.” Owen holds out his arm for me to pass. “After you.”
“Why thank you.”
Owen keeps surprising me. Austin has been friends with Owen for years, but I’ve only hung out with him a handful of times, and that was usually when we went out as a group, not one-on-one like this.
Unlocking the door, Owen swings it open. “To your right is the family room, and over there”—he motions to the dark hallway—“is the bathroom. Make yourself at home while I heat this grub up.”
“I can help.”
“I’ve got this. Sit. Relax. Unwind…” Owen trails off as he heads to the kitchen.
Walking around, I take in all the pictures of a young Owen. Dark, curly hair, which is now slicked back, and deep brown eyes that twinkle with mischief. “You were a cute kid.”
Owen’s laugh echoes from the kitchen. “Were?”
“Well, you’re definitely not a kid anymore.” I smile at Owen fishing for a compliment. “But still cute.”
“That’s better.” Owen chuckles.
“I feel like I should be doing something to help. I can get plates, napkins, drinks, or something?”
“Plates?” Owen laughs as he walks in with a tray of takeout cartons and a couple bottles. “We are doing this buffet style.” He nods toward the coffee table. “Can you move those albums for me?”
“Sure.” I stack them on top of each other and set them underneath.
“I’m going to apologize in advance. I don’t make it out here enough and I didn’t think about drinks.” He sets the tray down and holds up two bottles of Stella. “I found these from the last time I was here.” He examines the bottle. “I’m not sure if they’re out of date.” He pops the top and takes a swig. “Tastes fine.” He shrugs. “If it’s not your thing, I have tap water, but no ice. I forgot the maker was broken.” Owen cringes.
“Actually, fun fact: Mal got me started on those last year.” I grab a bottle and twist the cap. “Good stuff.”
“Yeah, it’s not my first choice, but in this case, it works.” He tilts the bottle in my direction. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” I gently tap the longnecks together. “You know, one time,” I chuckle, “I accidently bumped Austin’s beer and it exploded all over his shirt…” I trail off. “I’m sorry. When I get nervous, I ramble.”
“Why are you sorry?” Owen gives me a puzzled look while handing me a carton of sweet and sour chicken. “I like hearing your stories.”
My small smile grows wider. “Thank you.” I take the red box and search for the plastic utensils. “Um, Owen, where’s the fork?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” He holds up his chopsticks. “You do know how to use these, right?”
“Okay, don’t make fun.” I hold the paper-wrapped wooden utensils in my hand. “But these things and me don’t get along.”
“You’re kidding me right now.” His lips tilt up in a smirky smile.
I drop the sticks to the table. “No. So,
can I get a fork?” I hold out my hand.
“Absolutely not.” He picks them back up and rips open the wrapper. “You are going to learn.” He sets the wooden device in the palm of my hand.
“If I close my eyes real tight and say the magic words, do you think these will turn into a fork?” I nod down to the chopsticks. These little wooden sticks are the only thing standing between me and dinner.
“It’s simple.” He reaches across the table. “You’re right-handed, right?” I nod. “Cool. Give it here.”
“I’m telling you, Austin has tried to teach me so many times and I just end up flinging my food across the restaurant or down myself.”
“Well, I’m not Austin, and we aren’t in a restaurant.” He reaches for a napkin and tosses it my way. “And this will protect your dress.” He raises a brow. “I mean, what there is of one.”
“Hey!” I pick up the napkin and throw it back at him. “I thought I was going to dinner and a movie with a guy. I thought”
“I know what you thought.” He waggles his brow as he stuffs another bite of General Tso in his mouth.
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “Are you going to show me how to use these or am I going to starve to death?”
“Patience, my friend,” Owen teases.
“But I’m starving.” I can’t help but whine as my rumbling stomach backs up my statement.
“Holy shit.” Owen’s eyes shoot up. “Was that you?”
“Yeah.” I nod frantically. “It’s screaming, ‘Feed me.’”
“Take those,” he nods to the wooden sticks, “and place the first chopstick in the valley between your pointer finger and thumb. Balance it on your ring finger.”
I mimic his process. “Like this?”
“Yes. Good.” He holds up the other stick. “Now, do the same thing with this one, but rest it on your middle finger instead of your ring finger.”
“It won’t stay.” I let the chopsticks fall to the table.
“That’s because you’re not relaxing your hand. Shake it off like this.” He flips his other wrist up and down.
“All this work to eat?” I roll my eyes, feeling a little crazy sitting here flapping my wrists. “Is this how birds feel?”
Owen throws his head back and lets out a rumble of a laugh. “You’re something else, Clover Kelly.” He shakes his head.
