by Hayleigh Sol
Emma was saying something about chemistry or pheromones, but I lost the thread the moment I peered through the peephole.
Instinctively, I took a giant step back from the door. Then, another.
“Em. I think I have to call you back. Garrett’s here.”
“What? He’s there, as in, at your door?”
“Yep.”
“Ohmygod, you have to go. Good luck. I want details later.” She disconnected before I had a chance to respond.
I glanced down at my outfit, the same aubergine dress I’d worn to the shower. My hands went to my hair and I nearly dashed to the bathroom mirror to check my teeth for any of the leftovers I’d eaten. Then, I remembered the way Garrett had asked me to leave this afternoon and felt suddenly annoyed for caring one whit about my appearance.
“Bailey, I know you’re there. Can you please open the door?”
Hmmph, who was he to call me out on playing possum in my own home? If I’d wanted to ignore him, I’d have been completely justified.
And yet, I found myself unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door.
Emma may have had a point about that connection thing, not that I’d ever admit it to her. Every time I saw Garrett, my body sang. I could practically feel every last one of my want neurons firing. And not only the ones for sexy naked times. That was why this man was dangerous.
I dialed down the thermostat on my traitorous body’s reaction. “Hello.”
Garrett sighed, the breath moving his shoulders. “Hey.” A miniscule smile tugged on one corner of his mouth. It was as if he was happy to see me but didn’t want to be.
Hmm, maybe he had the same automatic response I did. I kinda liked that.
“Can we talk about this afternoon?”
Stepping to one side, I opened the door wider and let him in.
“How’s Tracie?” After closing the door behind Garrett, I turned to find him, hands in pockets, standing in the center of my living room. Clearly, this wasn’t going to be a relax–on–the–couch kind of conversation.
“She’s alright. Noah, too.”
Alright, so I hadn’t asked. Big deal.
“Bailey…what the hell was that today?”
I frowned at him, arms crossing defensively over my chest. “I thought it was pretty obvious. Even to those of you who weren’t invited to join in the fun times.”
Sarcasm, my old friend. Welcome.
Garrett frowned. “What I mean is, why didn’t you come to me if you thought something was going on with Noah?”
The thought hadn’t even entered my mind.
“Because Tracie was the one who would’ve been most affected by his cheating. She needed to know before anyone else. Plus, you’re Noah’s best friend. You would’ve just defended him or brushed me off or something.”
“I would’ve defended him because he’s a good guy who wouldn’t hurt my sister. And if he ever did, if anyone did, I’d want to know about it so I could be there for her. To hell with your ‘bro code’ bullshit.”
His arms were folded now too, his jaw tight. Chill–dude Garrett was rapidly on his way out of the building.
“It’s not bullshit. It’s a fact that men cover for their dickhead friends, no matter who else gets hurt in the process.”
Lips tilted into a sneer as he made a scoffing sound with his tongue. “A fact, huh? Like, something proven by research scientists, or more like something that’s happened to you?”
“Did you come over here to play semantics with me? Maybe you should go now.”
“Is that what you’re upset about? That I asked you to give everyone some space, some time to cool off?”
Yes.
“I’m sorry about that, but I thought it was best, especially with the moms there. I figured I’d come talk to you, figure out what that showdown was really about. Noah’s convinced you’ve had it in for him since day one. He thinks you told Tracie to dump him last year at some charity benefit or something. Is that true?”
Sort of.
“If I did, it was because Tracie told me he was always being photographed with or linked to a different trophy blonde. He seemed like the typical millionaire player. My friend—your sister—deserves better.”
He ran a hand through his hair and I hated my knee–jerk response to the way it made the muscles of his arm flex. “I thought you knew that’s just the way he’s portrayed in the press. Tracie does.” He shook his head, frown lines still around his eyes. “And Noah’s done well, but he’s definitely not a millionaire.”
As if that were the important point here. “Look, Garrett, I know he’s your friend but I just don’t trust him. I know what I saw yesterday with his assistant and at least twice before with Ashley and I’m not buying that it’s all planning a surprise honeymoon for his darling bride. It’s too easy.”
“It’s only easy because it’s the truth. After you left, Noah voluntarily offered up his phone for Tracie to look through—”
“And did she?”
“No.” Dammit, Tracie. “She said she appreciated his transparency but that she trusted him.”
Eyeroll. “Good move on Noah’s part. Showing her only what he’s comfortable with her seeing is in the cheater’s handbook for how to throw your unsuspecting significant other off the scent. Hell, it probably has its own chapter.”
“You’re unbelievable. Even when he proves he’s a decent guy who hasn’t done anything wrong, you still refuse to accept it. Does that mean you feel the same way about me? Am I going to find you going through my phone someday?”
Honestly? Probably, yeah.
I dropped my arms and paced a few steps one way, then back. “I don’t know, is there some reason I should be looking?”
“God, seriously?”
A breath huffed out of me. Why were we talking about us? “I’m sorry, but I’ve been burned before and I learned my lesson. If someone’s acting shady—like Noah—it’s better to know as soon as possible, rather than continue skipping through life with blinders on.”
“So you really spy on the men you date and they’re okay with this?”
My teeth ground together at his judgmental tone. “I haven’t dated anyone long enough for it to come to that. Not since Aaron. Who, I might remind you, did have some pretty major shit he was hiding.”
“But that was one guy. Not every—”
“What about my father? There’s another. Jesus, what about my mother? Nobody’s innocent. Nobody’s capable of keeping it in their pants. Maybe you should be asking to go through my phone, too.”
Garrett shook his head, the look in his eyes pained. Like he was feeling sorry for me, dammit. “I don’t need to do that, Bay. I trust you. I hoped, in time, you’d see that you could trust me back.”
He must’ve seen the instant rejection in my expression because he held up his hands. “I know, you hate it when people tell you to trust them. That’s why I’m careful never to say those words to you. Why I’m careful about everything I say and do with you. Frankly, it’s exhausting having to censor myself all the time. But I had hoped the trust would come eventually.”
What Garrett didn’t understand, what nobody really understood, was that my mechanism for trusting had been broken—smashed to smithereens, more like—and it wasn’t something that could be fixed.
More importantly, it wasn’t something that I wanted to fix.
I liked being the strong, independent, tough love–dishing, grumpy Gus. A woman who didn’t need a man to be happy. Didn’t need to trust someone and open herself up to heartbreak again.
Meeting Garrett’s searching look, I swallowed over the thickness in my throat, then had to clear it when I tried to speak. “I think maybe you and I should call it quits.”
His eyebrows rose and he took a step toward me. I backed up.
“Bailey, why? Because of what happened today? Because of this?” He gestured with both hands, encompassing the
room, the space between us.
My shoulders shrugged. “I think we just want different things. I’ve tried to tell you all along that I’m not willing or able to give you what you want. It’s better to end it now than to get more…tangled up.”
Another step in my direction, then another. “You may have said you wanted to keep things casual between us but that’s not what’s been happening. Maybe you can lie to yourself about that, but not to me.”
I didn’t bother to respond. He had a point. From the moment we’d met, I’d found it nearly impossible to stay away. To resist the temptation of another cookie.
His hands rested on his hips, not as pissed as when he’d first shown up, but not pleased with me. Or my silence. “I thought we’d come to an understanding after Halloween. Weren’t we going to try for more?”
“I changed my mind.”
“Just like that? No discussion, just, you’ve changed your mind.”
The sadness underneath the frustration in those glacier eyes was burrowing its way into my chest. He was disappointed in me, just like his sister had been earlier. With my ribs feeling like they were being pulled apart, I forced myself to be strong. On the outside, at least.
“Why is it acceptable for men to be confused or change their minds about being with a woman, but turn the tables and she’s jerking him around? Or being a tease?”
His jaw tensed. “All men do this, or one in particular?”
“Please. Deep down, you’re all the same.” I knew it was unfair of me the moment I said it. But I also knew I was about to shatter like glass and I needed to be just a little bit mean to get him out of here before I did.
“I’m not your ex, Bailey. Or your father. Don’t put that on me.”
I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t apologize. We stared at each other, Garrett angry, me pretending to be indifferent. He broke first, looking off to one side and taking a deep breath, letting it out before he faced me again.
“This is really what you want?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice husky with holding back the damn tears that threatened.
Come on, talk me out of it, Garrett.
But he didn’t say anything. He nodded once and left.
I counted to twenty after the door closed quietly behind him before I let the dam break.
Chapter 26
Waking up with a crying hangover was a special joy I hadn’t experienced in almost a decade. This was what relationships—or even attempting anything more than casual hookups—did to you.
I massaged my temples as I waited to drink the cooling tea I’d made to soothe my raw throat, annoyed that the beverage made me think of Garrett. I’d managed to enjoy tea for the past twenty–or–so years without him; I would soldier on. Defiantly, I went for a big swallow. And burned my tongue.
Slumped on the sofa in my softest pair of flannel pajama pants and an oversized hoodie, I spun my phone between thumb and index finger. My overtaxed brain tested and discarded various text messages to send Tracie. Last night, somewhere in the middle of my truly hideous cry—gasping for breath, face twisted into a nightmarish mask complete with running mascara—I’d come to the conclusion that I may have condemned an innocent man.
That had only ratcheted up the waterworks.
In the middle of the self–pity fest, Emma had texted.
Emma: How did it go with Garrett? Send me an eggplant emoji if you’re in the middle of superhot makeup sex.
I sent her a frowny face, followed by the skull and crossbones.
Emma: What the…did you kill him?! Wait, don’t tell me over text.
Me: No, I didn’t kill him, you nut.
Emma: Phew. I would’ve helped you bury the body, of course, but we don’t want Big Brother knowing about it.
Emma: I mean, I would never be an accessory to a crime. A crime I know my dear friend, Bailey, would never commit.
She had me smiling through my sniffles. It wasn’t a big one, but it was a start. I blew my poor stuffed–up nose, washed the makeup off my clown face, then ran the water cool for my swollen eyes. By the time I picked up my phone again, I felt twenty–five percent human.
Emma: So what actually happened?
Me: He was upset about the scene at his parents’ house, as you’d expect. Defended his bestie, as you’d expect. I was myself and told him we should stop seeing each other. As you’d expect.
Yep, pity party still in full swing.
Emma: Oh, no. Are you okay?
Me: Of course. It’s not a big deal.
Emma: Why do I think you’re lying? If I call you right now, will I see puffy eyes on my sad sweetie?
Me: Can’t chat, meeting a friend. I’m good, though. No worries.
Emma: Which friend? I know who all of your friends are and 5 of us are nowhere near you right now and the other one is Tracie.
Stinkin’ perceptive, know–it–all Emma.
Me: Fine, I’m not meeting a friend. I just don’t feel like talking about this disaster of a day anymore. I’m just going to go back to focusing on what I should’ve been all along. Taking my business to the next level. No distractions.
She didn’t reply for a while, probably working out a way to get me to talk. Forget advanced interrogation techniques – my bestie was the best at making anyone talk.
Emma: Alright, hon. But I’m here if you need me.
Surprised she hadn’t pushed the issue, I thanked her and assured her I’d be fine after some sleep. Then I hauled my achy body off to bed to prove myself a liar.
In the cruel light of day—in actuality, it was overcast and dreary, a perfect setting for my mood—I was faced with the monumental task of making things right with Tracie. It was a conversation that, like the one where I accused her fiancé of cheating, really should happen in person. But I didn’t know how to start the text apology that would convince her to see me.
An aggressive, buzzing vibration mid–flip made me fumble the phone.
“Hey, Em. See? As promised, I’m all good this morning.” I pressed my smile into service as my best friend scrutinized me through the screen.
“Bailey, I love you.”
I waited for the “but”. She had a pretty serious expression for a checking–in phone call. “I love you, too. Surprised to see you without racket in hand this time of day. Is your opinionated coach actually giving you a day off?”
Reflexively, she scowled, then deliberately relaxed her face and took an obvious deep breath. “I may have told him we needed to condense workouts today for a family emergency.”
“Everyone’s okay, right?” She nodded, looking a touch guilty. I gasped dramatically. “Did you…Emma, did you lie to get out of a workout?” Grinning, I prepared to tease her about losing goody–two–shoes status for the next several minutes.
Before she answered, Lisette and Maya joined the call. Since our monthly video chat was scheduled for the next week, I was surprised to see them. Even more so when Holly and Simone popped up. Greetings were subdued and I wondered what I’d missed.
“I thought our group call was on for next weekend. Did I get that wrong?”
Emma cleared her throat. “Bailey, this is your intervention.”
I laughed. Nobody else did.
“As your best friends, who only want the best for you, we feel we can no longer keep silent with our concerns.” Emma was taking her apparent role as leader a little too seriously.
Over the years, comments had been made—always jokingly—about staging an intervention whenever I’d voiced a particularly anti–love or anti–men opinion. The five solemn faces staring me down at the moment told me the time for jokes was over.
Great, this is exactly what I want to deal with after yesterday.
“So I’m assuming our good friend, Emma, has shared the events of the past twenty–four hours with you?” Head nods and murmured yeses all
around. “Well, I want you all to know that I was figuring out a way to apologize to the bride when you called. I already decided that I may have crossed a line yesterday.”
“It’s good to hear you say that”—Maya gave me the first small smile—“but we’d also like to discuss this Garrett situation.”
My eyes narrowed at Emma, whose lips turned down in a half–frown.
As my gossip–spreading friend remained quiet, Simone’s image lit up. “It sounded like you really liked him, but you ended things last night. Care to tell us why?”
“No, not really.”
Lisette rolled her eyes. “Tough titty, lady. Talk.”
Being on the receiving end of we–mean–business stares from the five people who knew me best—and still loved me anyway—meant my own obstinate, tight–lipped silence lasted about thirty seconds before I heaved a sigh and spilled my guts.
“You broke it off before you could admit you’d fallen for him. And now you’re using focusing on your career goals as an excuse. I get you, babe.” If anyone would have my back in this, it’d be Holly. She leaned back in the chair in whichever country she was currently in, arms crossed, a knowing look on her face.
Still. She didn’t know everything. “I wouldn’t say I fell for him. I liked him, we had fun. I hadn’t gotten tired of the sex yet. Wouldn’t you all agree it’s better to end our…whatever it was on a high note?”
“See, this is the part that worries me. You refuse to call it a relationship, or dating, or seeing each other. It’s like you’re afraid of the words,” Emma said.
Simone raised an eyebrow, looking down her professor’s nose at me. “Words can hurt, Bay, but they’re nothing to fear.”
I threw my arms up in exasperation. “Holly, come on, back me up here.”
“Oh no, we’re not talking about my issues today, thanks very much. Besides, I’ve never met someone who actually had long–term potential and it sounds like you have. As usual, your concrete walls slammed into place and now here we are.”
