A yawn sneaks out after the words leave my mouth, though. It’s so late.
“I shouldn’t have come,” Robert says with a groan, letting his head fall back. “I’m sorry,” he tells me again and I smack his arm playfully.
“Quit it, and spit it out.”
“He wants me to have a date for the event this weekend.”
My caged heart protests at the word date but I remain silent.
“He wants me to bring someone, like as a guest to it.”
“Okay,” I say, playing dumb, barely responding at all as I lean forward and close the laptop.
“I know we aren’t a thing and he said he told the governor I’d go with his niece who’s in town … looking at colleges,” he adds absently as I let what he’s saying sink in.
“Okay, so what’s the problem?” I ask, playing it cool, ignoring every little emotion that feels like a thousand tiny pinpricks along my skin. I think I might even be sick just thinking about him with some pretty little thing on his arm at whatever fancy event is this weekend. I think it’s a charity for the library opening. This last week has been crazy with work and Bridget and I don’t remember what it was that he told me.
“So I think I … I am going with her …” His statement is uttered haltingly but his baby blue eyes never stop peering into mine. I’m the one who looks away.
“Okay, and you told your dad yes?” I ask him, my heart already breaking in half. We’re only friends, I remind myself. This was bound to happen. We had a good run … the thought lingers on the tip of my tongue.
“I didn’t answer him. I left.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Do you want me to tell him no?” he asks me. Like his life decisions should be in my hands.
“Why would I want that?” I question him back even though my throat feels suddenly so much smaller than it should. Tighter and dry.
“I don’t want you to be upset if I—”
“We’re just friends,” I say, cutting him off and reach forward for my laptop. “It’s totally fine,” I add with as upbeat a tone as possible. “If you really like her, though—”
“I don’t even know her,” he blurts out, interrupting me and he immediately sounds defensive, like it’s a fight. I don’t want to fight with him. I don’t want to lose him. I can’t imagine either of those possibilities right now so I shush him and look him dead in the eye when I tell him, “Seriously, Robert. It’s fine. We’re just friends and I’m not upset.”
“Yeah,” he answers, his gaze falling from mine to the floor, “just friends.”
Present day
It’s taking everything in me not to cry right now. The radio is barely on, but it’s on nonetheless, playing a love song and mocking me as I lean back in the driver’s seat and focus on taking deep breaths. The keys are still in the ignition even though the car is parked in my designated spot for the development.
I didn’t tell my boss, Mandy, that I locked up shop for the day and came right home. I have no idea what she’ll do or say when she finds out but I imagine I can’t confess to her and that she’ll understand. I saw a man who I loved and have been sleeping with for years while on a date with a man who might be the father of my child. I haven’t told either of them so I had to get the hell out of there before my little girl comes home so I can try to pull myself together.
Yeah, I can’t do that. Mandy doesn’t care about the mess I created. And yet, I did it anyway and I’m already coming up with another lie to add onto the pile. This one is the first for my boss: I felt absolutely ill out of nowhere and I had to go home. I suppose it’s not a complete lie. I could throw up right now just thinking about the look on Robert’s face when he saw me with Brody.
For being such a bad liar, I sure have told a lot of them to Brody.
I imagine what would have happened had I stayed seated there and a soap opera plays out in my head. Entertainment for the entire town.
It still hurts. It all hurts right now. Brody sees right through me. He sees that I’m a liar. I could see it in his eyes and it freaking hurts but that’s what I deserve, isn’t it? All these lies piling up. White lie or not. All I could think when he looked at me, even now when I close my eyes and see his handsome smile curve down, is: he’s never going to believe me about Bridget. And if he does, he’ll never forgive me.
The soap opera would have ended with me in tears and a broken heart. I knew it, sitting there and glancing between the two men. I can take my karma, and I will. Just not in front of everyone else. Please, whoever is up there, listening to this prayer, please let me go through it without an audience this time. Please. I’ll take what’s coming to me, but I just don’t want everyone to see my heartbreak again.
The console clicks as I open it, rummaging through the clutter of old sunglasses and sunblock for a napkin. I just need something to dab at the corner of my eyes in the rearview mirror.
I’m so caught up with just breathing and gathering my thoughts that I don’t hear the heavy thud of a car door beyond my pathetic sniffle.
It’s not until he calls my name that I’m aware there’s anyone outside my car door.
“Mags, please.” My chest tightens, painfully so. “Mags.” The way he says my name cuts through me, like he’s sad for me, drawing it out and before I can respond, my door is opened.
“I need a minute, Robert.” It’s all I can get out, balling up the napkin, and struggling with my seat belt. He was halfway crouched down to meet me at eye level but my words bring him to a halt. He takes a single step back even though the door is still open and his hand is on top of it.
“Did he hurt you?”
“What?” With the keys still in the ignition, the car scolds me, but yells nearly as loudly as my inner thoughts do to confess to Robert, right now. “Hurt me?” My brow scrunches as I rip the keys out of the ignition and grab my purse off the passenger seat.
Robert takes another half step back so I can get the heck out of the hot car. Deep breaths. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”
I can barely look Robert in the eyes. When I do, there’s confusion, but mostly hurt. He knows darn well I was on a date. He’s never seen me with another man. Not once. The next deep breath is a torturous one as I shut the door to my car and make my way up the stairs. With every click of my heels there’s a clack of his shoes following me across the pavement.
It’s only when I get to my door, the key in the lock ready to turn, that Robert speaks again, “I didn’t know you were interested in seeing someone.”
I’m frozen where I am, my back to him and my eyes closed. I have to lean forward and rest my forehead against the door when he adds, “In fact, you said the opposite.”
It’s not a lie. But it’s not like he was asking me out when I told him that and it was years ago. He was seeing someone. That’s why the conversation came up.
He continues, “You said you didn’t want anyone.”
I said it to make him feel better. I remember the conversation all too well. One more lie to add to my pile. Maybe I’ve always been a liar and I just didn’t see it until now.
“At the time I didn’t,” I say, adding another lie to the pile. What’s one more, at this point? I wanted him. I wanted Robert to choose me to take to whatever event it was. Not some governor’s niece. But between myself and the woman he told me about … there was no chance he would take me. I knew what we were and I came to terms with it.
With his tall frame standing only feet from me, it’s easy to see how his posture deflates. It’s everything about him that tells me his heart is shredded.
Why does it hurt as much as it does? It shouldn’t. But looking at Robert, it kills me to tell him anything I’m feeling inside. It hasn’t felt like this in years. It’s always been easy. Both of us finding comfort in one another.
“I don’t know what I want,” I say, finally speaking some truth.
His voice is drenched with wretched emotion as he says, “I’ve been with you from the very beginning, Mags.”
The way he says my name is pleading.
“I want to take you out.”
“Rob—” He cuts me off as I step forward, feeling the pull of two incompatible wants in my life.
“Just a date,” he assures me, his hands raised in defeat.
“You sure you want to be seen with me?” The joke I’ve made for years makes my voice tight and my eyes prick with tears.
Robert is softer, sweeter when he takes my hands in his. This man and Brody are the only two men I’ve ever been with and I’ve only let myself fall in love with one. Fair enough, though, only one has broken my heart.
It takes everything in me to rip my hands away from his and get the confession out there. The weight of it is destroying me.
“I have to tell you something. Before you tell me you want me. Brody … the guy I was with …” The prick at the back of my eyes burns and I struggle to say anything without fear of losing it.
“Mags,” he says and Robert’s consoling voice is accompanied by his arms wrapping around me. He pulls me into his chest and holds me. He always has. Every time I come so close to breaking, this man has been here for me.
He whispers in my hair, “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” He kisses the top of my head. “I will still love you. You know I’ll always love you.”
First I cry, and I hate myself for it. I don’t even know why I’m crying.
But then I tell him everything. I don’t skip a single detail from four years ago, up till the moment we got here.
Brody
I take a deep breath in as I flip the dark wood coffee table over. It takes a grunt and a heave; the driftwood is heavier than it looks. The breeze blows through the small three-bedroom apartment, carrying the scent of the ocean with it, and I have to wipe my brow as I look down at the last piece of furniture put into place.
“It’s still a man cave.”
“Good, because that’s what I was going for,” I tell Griffin. With my shirt off, a thin sheen of sweat along my shoulders and the drill at my feet, it’s obvious I’ve been working my ass off to get this place together. One thud is followed by another as Griffin plants his feet on the new coffee table, determined to already make an ass groove in the corner of the dark blue sectional I put together yesterday.
I don’t say a damn word. I’ve barely said anything since three days ago when Magnolia said she needed time and then Griffin filled me in on why.
Fuck buddies or old flames, I don’t know which exactly. All I know is that the girl I’m after has something going on with another man. Or did. I saw all the signs; I knew it deep down, and yet …
“No more boxes,” Griffin says absently, his voice just a tad louder than the constant clicking on the laptop balanced on his thighs.
“No more boxes,” I repeat with a long exhale and make my way to the fridge for a beer, only to find it empty.
I check my phone again and stare at the text she sent after our so-called date: Hey, can we talk?
I didn’t respond and I don’t intend to. If she’s going to write me off for some other guy, she can do it to my face. Maybe it’s pride. Maybe I’m just pissed. Either way, I’m not letting her off easy.
“So what are you going to do now?” Griffin asks, not lifting his gaze from the computer screen. He’s working on the website page, the online store and partners for retail. So I can’t blame him for sitting his ass down and not doing a damn thing to help me furnish this place.
There’s no more furniture to put together. No more focusing on working a screwdriver or drill and not thinking about the woman who’s under my skin.
“Shower,” I answer easily enough and then lean against the countertop, taking a look around the place. It’s minimal with dark woods, but light and bright white accents. It’s airy and reminds me of the shore most of all. Which, I remind myself, is the entire reason I’m here.
Not for Rose or Magnolia, or whoever this woman wants to be.
Even if thoughts of her lips keep me up at night. Even if I can’t help but want to rewind every moment we’ve had together so I can say the right things and end each night with a kiss like the one we had on the pier.
“You keep sighing like that and someone’s going think you’re depressed,” Griffin says, mocking me from across the open living space. All I can do is give him a scowl in return but he doesn’t see since he still hasn’t looked up.
I crack my neck to the left and right and make my way around the counter to go shower and get my shit together.
“So she may have had a low-key thing with a guy. Maybe … it’s just a rumor.”
I don’t bother answering Griffin, I don’t even halt my steps. The truth is it’s not just a rumor when she’s out with me but leaves the second she sees him. That’s not fucking gossip; that’s reality.
“You should just ask her,” Griffin calls out as I walk down the narrow hallway to the master suite. Again I don’t answer him but I at least agree with that sentiment.
Shower. And then I’m damn well going to see her, talk to her and ask her if she’s got anything to hide. If I could get her out of my head, I wouldn’t bother.
But I can’t and what’s worse, is that I don’t want her out of my head.
The ring that comes with the door to the gallery swinging open is followed by a “Welcome!” and then “I’ll be with you in just one moment” from somewhere in the back right corner. It sounds like Magnolia is rearranging a piece or two with her back to the door. Her smile’s bright and wide, looking gorgeous on her sun-kissed skin paired with a pale blue dress that has buttons all the way down the front of it.
Of course, it fades when she sees who it is who walked into her gallery. Her eyes grow a little wider, and I’d feel like shit if they didn’t flash with something that looked like relief and her chest didn’t flush all the way to her cheeks. If she didn’t stand there looking back at me like I just stole her last breath.
Yeah, I’d feel like shit if our gazes weren’t locked with something that seemed an awful lot like hope.
“You look beautiful.” I can’t help but to tell her.
“You always say that,” she says then blushes deeper and the smile comes back, although not full force.
I shrug. “You always look beautiful.”
Tucking her hair behind her ear, she avoids my gaze as she tells me thank you beneath her breath and strides through the displays at a leisurely pace to the counter. Her on one side, me on the other.
When she finally peeks up at me, her forearms resting on the counter so she’s leaning closer to me, I can see the desperation, the want, the longing in her doe eyes.
“You didn’t text me back,” she says, her voice soft and knowing.
“No, I didn’t.”
“So what are you doing in here?” Her voice is soft and velvetlike, but there’s a sadness still present.
“You wanted to talk and I thought we should.”
With a nod, she murmurs, “Right.” Ripping her gaze from mine, she stands taller as a crease mars her forehead. “I have some things that I think you should know.” She clears her throat and it’s obvious she’s uncomfortable.
“Is Robert one of those things?” I get right to the point, tired of this bullshit. “Because I don’t really care if you had something before with him. If it’s over, it’s over. I give a shit that you up and leave me when you see him, though.”
“He didn’t know and—”
“Didn’t know what?” I ask to clarify but hate that I cut her off when she’s finally telling me what the hell is going on.
“That I was …”
“That you were seeing me?”
“That I was seeing anyone. You don’t understand.” Frustration brings her hands to her hair and she takes a deep breath. I wait as she appears to start to say something but then takes another deep breath first.
“He helped me through a lot when I had no one. I owe him a lot and a big part of me loves him still. So I didn’t want him to find out tha
t I was seeing someone by literally walking in on a date.”
“Do you still love him?”
“Not like that. I haven’t loved him like that in a long time, but I don’t want to hurt him.” Her confession is earnest and she never breaks our gaze. Swallowing thickly, I let her confession settle before asking, “What do you want to do?”
Her gaze darts away from me and she hesitates.
“No more lies.” I lay down the one thing I really need from her. No more hiding shit from me. It’s driving me crazy. She’s driving me damn near insane.
Her words are tight and her doe eyes pleading for understanding. “There’s one more thing,” she practically whispers.
The daughter. I already know she’s got a kid. “Griffin told me you have a daughter.”
“What else did he tell you?”
“The father’s not in the picture, but it seems like Robert is the father to a number of people.”
“Is that …” Turmoil rolls through her after she trails off and I hate the tension in her body. She struggles to keep herself poised. With her eyes closed and her expression crumpled, I know the truth about her situation is tearing her apart. So I speak up, hating that whatever happened is killing her like it is.
“A problem for me? No.” She doesn’t react and I take a step forward, telling her every truth I have. “I want you and I told you I wanted a fair shot. You told him about me?” Adrenaline rushes through me at the thought of him being an obstacle because of a town rumor.
“Yes.” There’s not a single hint of hesitation in the answer but she still hasn’t opened her eyes.
“Good. I just want to kiss you.” I don’t know that I’ve ever spoken a more honest statement. When she doesn’t respond, still appearing trapped in the uncomfortable conversation, I lean forward against the counter and whisper, the tip of my nose close to hers, “I just want to kiss you, Magnolia.”
Her lips part once but there are no words. Maybe she’s not used to the bluntness. Maybe she thought having a daughter would send me packing.
Tequila Rose Page 12
