by Meghan Quinn
“Ah, I can’t wait either.” Sage makes a check mark in her notebook and adjusts her glasses.
“I want to get invitations ordered soon, but we haven’t agreed on a style yet. Do you think we could do that in the next two days?”
“I trust you, Sage. Pick what you want.”
Her brow creases. “I want you to be a part of this too, Colby. This is our wedding.”
“Seems more like your wedding given all the decisions already made.” I tip back my bottle, immediately regretting what I said. Before she can even respond, I say, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m in a really bad mood, and I’m taking it out on you.”
Somberly she nods. “I get that your job is stressful, Colby, and I’m here for you, I always will be, but I won’t be your punching bag.”
Christ, I’m really fucking up with all the women in my life. I should probably call Rory and tell her something to piss her off just for the trifecta.
“I know, I’m sorry. Come here.” I pull her into a hug and kiss the side of her neck. “I’m being a bastard. Forgive me.”
She nods, putting a smile back on my face. Shit, she’s so easygoing. She makes it too easy on me. Maybe she needs to learn a lesson from Ryan on how to throw more shade.
“Okay, since I’ll be house-sitting for you, I thought I’d do a few things around the house, make it more ours rather than yours. Is that okay?”
“What kind of stuff?” Not that I really care. It’s been a living space only. My home, but not particularly homey to others, I guess.
“Well, you know, some throw pillows and colorful art for the walls, maybe a nice accent rug.”
“What, you don’t like my decorating style?” I tease, poking her in the side.
She looks around, taking in the bare walls. “Its simplistic, that’s for sure.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, do whatever you want, just don’t make it too girly.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t. Which leads me to the spare bedroom.”
“What about the spare bedroom?”
“I was hoping I could move your planes and make it into a guest room.”
I shake my head. “Don’t touch my planes.”
“Colby, come on.”
“I’m fucking serious, Sage. Don’t touch them. That room is off limits.” And once again, the tension in the room amplifies as she shifts on the couch.
“So that’s how it’s going to be? Your word is final?”
Well, it’s my goddamn house.
I shake my head and stand from the couch, bringing my now empty beer bottle to the sink where I wash it out. “Those planes mean a lot to me, okay? Just leave them where they are.”
“And where are my parents supposed to stay when they come to visit? Am I supposed to tell them they have to sleep on the couch because Colby needs an entire room for his planes?”
“Yeah,” I answer like a child and head to the bedroom. I strip to my boxer briefs, just as I hear Sage open the door to the spare bedroom. My heart drops as I run to the room. I catch her looking around, shaking her head. I only keep a select few with me, but they’re ones I need to see sometimes to feel grounded. Connected. She can’t do this. She can’t be in here.
“This is stupid, Colby. You barely come in here.”
“Because I barely have time anymore.”
“Which is why you should either pack them up or sell them. You’re wasting space.”
“Watch it,” I warn, my chest rising and falling quicker than before.
She picks up a wing and flips it over, confusion written all over her face. “This is ridiculous. You can put these somewhere else; let this be a guest room.”
“Put that the fuck down,” I seethe, flashbacks of Ted fucking with my planes hitting me hard in the chest, playing on repeat in my head. “Put it down, now.”
“Colby—”
“Get out of this room.” I point to the door.
A flash of embarrassment crosses her face before she exits, but I don’t give a shit. She can’t come in this room and start making demands. This is my room, the most important room in my house. I glance at a picture I’ve kept of me with my dad and grandpa. Mentally, I tell them I love them and then make my way into my bedroom where I find Sage crying on the bed.
I don’t stop.
Something inside me has changed. It’s as if overnight, someone has come in and poured concrete over my heart, keeping me from feeling anything.
“Why are you being so mean to me?” she finally asks as I finish brushing my teeth.
“I’m just tired, okay? And when I tell you not to touch that room, I mean it.”
“But why?”
“Because it’s important to me. Maybe if you spent a little less time planning the damn wedding and trying to get to know me, you would know. It’s like we’re not even a couple anymore, Sage.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“When was the last time we had sex?”
She goes to open her mouth but stops as she thinks about it.
“Exactly,” I point out. “It’s been far too long for people who just got engaged. We should be fucking every goddamn night.”
“Is that all I am to you, someone to fuck?” The swear word sounds weird coming from her. Sage is too . . . gentile, or something. Fuck.
“Don’t do that. Don’t turn my words on me. Every time I try to initiate any kind of contact with you, you push me away. It’s not from a lack of trying on my end, Sage.”
“Is that what this is really about? You’re mad that I haven’t had sex with you in a while? You’re mad that you’re leaving for three months and are going to be flying with blue balls the entire time?”
I shake my head, feeling the nastiness coming from the both of us, something very unlike the people we normally are.
Wanting to take a step back and not end up saying something we’ll really regret later, I say, “We should go to bed. We’re going to keep going around in circles and end up hurting each other’s feelings, and that’s not what I want. It’s not what I need right now. I need my head in the game, not overanalyzing a fight I had with my fiancée.”
Understanding what I’m trying to say, she nods and takes a few steps forward, walking right into my arms. “I’m sorry, Colby.”
“I’m sorry too,” I reply, kissing the top of her head and holding on to her tightly.
“Look, I’m going to head back to Rocky’s for tonight. Okay?” She still looks so sad, but I simply have nothing inside me to comfort her. I’ll sleep alone again tonight. It should frustrate me, but for some reason, I’m almost relieved.
“Okay. Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yep. Good night, Colby.” She gives me a kiss on the lips, but again, I feel void of feeling.
I see her to the door, lock up, and climb the stairs. I’m deep in thought when I should be trying to get to sleep. But my mind isn’t caught up in the fight I had with Sage, or the lack of connection I’ve felt with her lately. It’s more concerned about the lack of conversation with Ryan.
And what’s even more fucked up is that I’m more upset about not receiving a hug from Ryan than I am over not having sex with my fiancée for another night.
The realization of that hits me harder than I expect.
I convince myself it’s because I know things will be okay with Sage; we’re just going through a little rough patch because we’re stressed.
But with Ryan, I’m not sure everything is going to be okay. I can’t get the look of . . . detachment out of my mind. She really didn’t want to see me. But her words . . . her words sliced me.
“Colby, let’s just call it what it is, okay? This friendship wasn’t going to last long anyway.” I hadn’t expected that. God, I was able to resurrect a friendship with Stryder, that seemed like an impossible situation because we were both in love with the same girl, yet we’re okay. Thank God. But why does this seem so much bigger, and why does my heart ache, imagining my life without Ryan’s
friendship? No, fuck no. I refuse to accept that our friendship isn’t going to last.
Chapter Nine
RYAN
“That’s what you’re wearing?” Donovan asks as he gives me a once-over.
I take in my modest dress—high neck, slim bodice, and short sleeves. The hem reaches two inches above my knees. I might not be showing off any cleavage tonight, but I am showing a lot of skin.
“Yes, is this not okay?”
“You look like a nun.”
I smooth my hands over my hips. “It actually shows off my curves. I thought you’d like—”
“I like your tits.” He checks his watch and grumbles. “Shit, we don’t have time for you to change.”
Feeling a little nervous, not wanting to let Donovan down, I say, “I’m sorry. I thought you would like it.”
Hand on his jaw, he takes me in once more, spinning me while holding my hand, a smile curving at his lips. “All right, it’s hot. But you should be showing off more of your boobs, that’s all. I want my guys to be jealous.”
“I can run into that shop and get something else if you want.” I point to the boutique in the hotel that most likely will have something that would fit what Donovan’s looking for.
“Nah.” He kisses the side of my cheek. “This will do. Don’t want to be late.” He takes my hand and leads me to an escalator, holding me close to his side.
“Are you nervous?” I ask, wondering what it’s like to play at a high-stakes poker table. Last night, I tried to keep my mind off the sad and devastated look on Colby’s face when I walked away a few days ago by researching everything I could about poker.
Buy-in for this table is five hundred thousand dollars.
I choked on the carrot I was eating when I read that. Who has that kind of money to spare? To just toss around as if it’s junk change?
I couldn’t fathom that.
Then I tried to learn more so I knew what was happening tonight and didn’t look stupid. I also made sure to watch videos, which were beyond boring.
Basically, tonight is going to be a drag, but it’s an escape, a chance to get out of my small apartment and off my tear-soaked pillow.
It gives me a chance to forget about the hollowness in the pit of my stomach, the nausea I carry around daily, and the sickening feeling I get every time I think about Colby leaving and not saying bye.
I know he’s only going to Colorado Springs, but he’s still training, and anything could happen. And I said nothing but good luck. No matter how bad he hurt me, I never should have let things end like that.
I hate myself for not giving him a proper goodbye.
And what I hate even more is that when he texts me, I can’t find it in me to respond. For so many reasons.
He hurt me.
I’m trying to forget about him.
I love him when I have no right to love him.
I need to distance myself, and even though the idea of not talking to him anymore pains me to my core, I have to let go.
“Nervous, nah, this shit is for fun,” he answers, guiding me through the casino. “But remember what I told you. You stand to my side and don’t make a sound. Your only job is to refill my drink when I need it.”
Did I mention I’m glorified arm candy tonight?
I should feel used and upset and want to dump this guy, but instead, for some stupid twisted and fucked-up reason, I like feeling needed.
He needs me.
To get him his drinks . . . but nonetheless, I’m going to be worth something today. I’m going to be someone Donovan can be proud of, and that’s more than I can say for the way Colby feels about me.
Grow up.
Those words still ring in my head, reminding me of every time my mom ever said that to me.
Grow up, Ryan. You can’t wear that kind of thing with your belly hanging out.
When are you going to grow up, Ryan, and realize you’re never going to be like those other girls?
It’s time to grow up, Ryan, and start taking care of your body. You can’t look like that your whole life or no one will ever want to date you.
Condescending and hurtful, the perfect way to describe my mom. I can’t remember a time when she actually thought I was beautiful or worthy of being her daughter.
And Colby’s words brought back every raw sting, making it almost impossible for me to look him in the eye. He hit a trigger, and it stole the breath from my lungs, not in a good way.
“How long do you think the game will go?”
“Hours. Hope you wore comfortable shoes.”
I glance at my four-inch heels and groan inwardly. I have a feeling I’m going to hate everything about tonight.
“God dammit,” Donovan says, slapping the table, startling me once again. That’s the third hand in a row he’s bet an insane amount of money and lost. For a while, he was drawing very impressive hands, but the last few have been awful.
I don’t even know why he’d bid on them.
Not that I know much, but what I do know is I wouldn’t throw down one hundred thousand dollars on a pair of eights thinking I’m going to take everything.
My feet are killing me. I’m bored out of my mind, and I’m hoping Donovan wants to leave soon with his dignity still intact, because this girl is over it.
“A pair of eights? I thought you were better than that,” a man with a mustache says from across the table, stacking the chips he just took from Donovan.
Not saying a word, Donovan rubs his hand down his face and abruptly stands. “I’m out.”
“So soon?” Mustache asks.
Donovan grips my side and pulls me into his body. “It’s been fun, but I’d rather spend the rest of the night fucking my girlfriend.” The crude way he says it does nothing for my libido. Instead, it actually turns me off. I nearly sneer, but I hold a steady look instead.
Mustache looks me up and down and nods. “I can appreciate that. Boys, cash our friend out, he has some other type of playing around to do tonight.”
Leaning into me, Donovan presses a kiss against my temple and says, “Wait for me by the door while I cash out.” Sliding his hand down my back to my butt, he squeezes it, hard. “When we get to my room, I’ll make this night up to you. I promise.”
Stepping away, he puts distance between us, and all eyes fall on me, so I walk toward the door where I feel the security guards are also watching every move I make. Feeling really uncomfortable and also glad I wore this dress to hide some of my body from the prying eyes, I take out my phone from my purse to distract myself. That’s when I see a text from Sage.
I quickly open it.
Sage: Sorry to bother you, I’m sure you’re working, but I was wondering if you were free for breakfast tomorrow morning. Early.
Immediately my mind goes to Colby and I start to wonder if everything is okay with him. If he was in an accident, Sage wouldn’t be texting me, right? If he were seriously injured, I would not hear about it over breakfast, would I?
Curious, I type her back.
Ryan: Is everything okay?
She texts back immediately. Thankfully, it gives me something to do while I wait for Donovan.
Sage: Sort of. I just need someone to talk to other than my stupid brother and Rowdy who are basically useless.
Ryan: Okay, sure. What time were you thinking?
Sage: Would you hate me if I said seven? I’ll come to you. I can even bring breakfast to your apartment. Name what you want and I’ll have it fresh and hot at seven on your doorstep.
Seven. Ouch. I’m so not a morning person and seven might kill me. And tonight from the look in Donovan’s eyes and the promise in his voice, I won’t be going to sleep anytime soon.
But she needs someone to talk to . . .
Ryan: I’m at my boyfriend’s tonight, so how about we meet at the Hash House at seven? Does that work?
Sage: Gah, I love it there. Yes, that works perfectly. Thank you so much.
Ryan: Not a problem.
; “Are you ready?” Donovan asks, walking up to me.
“Mm-hmm.” I nod, stuffing my phone back in my purse.
“Good, because I have plans for you tonight, and they can’t wait much longer.”
Biting on my bottom lip, I contemplate going home instead, wanting to try to get in some good sleep before breakfast tomorrow. What would Donovan say? I have clothes at his place he brought in so I didn’t have to do the walk of shame after staying the night at his place, but still, I’d prefer to go home tonight.
Once we’re out of earshot and walking through the buzzing casino, slot machines and gamblers drowning out my voice, I say, “I think I might go home—”
“What?” His face falls and genuine disappointment crosses over his features. “Ryan, you can’t go home.” He pulls me in tight and starts moving his lips across my neck, sending chills up and down my body. “I planned on worshipping your body.” His hand goes to my ass and he squeezes it. His other hand holds me close, as he tries to convince me with his mouth. “Stay with me tonight, please.”
Shit.
This isn’t the first time he’s done this, begged me with his lips, using this soft voice that suggests there is more to him than a powerful rich man in expensive suits and loafers. It makes me believe there’s another person underneath his fancy layers, and that he’s masquerading as someone he really isn’t.
Like a high-stakes poker player.
It reminds me of the Donovan I first met who wanted to show me a good time with a simple plate and fork.
And that’s why I go to his room instead of going home. It’s why I strip down, wearing absolutely nothing as he feasts his eyes on me. And it’s why I end up with his head between my legs, hand in his hair, allowing him to once again, try to help me forget the world around me.
I slip out of the bathroom, showered, wet hair, and fully dressed, my eyes blurry from practically no sleep and my muscles sore from every position Donovan tried last night.
He was relentless, almost as if he was trying to forget as well.
We fucked and slept and fucked and slept, never fully getting the kind of sleep that rests and recharges your body. Instead, it was little catnaps. And every time he started back up again, every time he pressed his erection against me, I would spin over ready to take whatever he wanted to do with me.
