Forget About It

by Jessie Harper

  I skitter to the left to avoid having Cassie get a better look, but there’s no saving me now. Now that she’s seen the little reminder of my dumbest mistake, she won’t be able to unsee it. She’ll want to do what every woman wants to do; she’ll want to give me the third degree.

  “Is that a tattoo?” Cassie asks even though I know she knows exactly what she’s looking at.

  I shrug and pull the towel off my hips, acting like I’m not concerned. I rub the fabric over my head and collect the drops of water that still cling to my chest. I keep my movements deliberate and measured to hide the way my heart is thumping, trying to claw its way out of my body through my throat. I avoid looking at Cassie in an effort to delay the inevitable—we’re about to have the fight she’s been spoiling for since I came home.

  “It is a tattoo,” Cassie confirms and then waits. What she expects me to do is anyone’s guess. Am I supposed to explain myself? Deny it? I just shrug again and wrap the towel back around my waist. It hides the offending mark, but won’t do anything to protect me from whatever Cassie decides to do next.

  “When I read about that online I didn’t believe it.” Cassie looks genuinely perplexed. “I mean, I’ve never seen it, but I guess I just wasn’t paying that much attention.”

  I don’t remind her that most of our early hook ups weren’t the kind where we look lovingly into each other’s eyes. Hell, we barely even took our pants off. How would she have ever noticed my tattoo, especially now when it’s faded? What used to be a bright reminder of the one that got away is now hardly noticeable. It could almost pass as a birthmark. Fourteen years will do that to a little cheap ink. I barely remember getting the thing although I can clearly remember why I thought it was a good idea. It was something permanent, something that would prove to Julia I was serious about getting back together. I was serious enough to put that declaration on my body forever. How could she ignore that kind of devotion?

  Easily, apparently, and as I face a snarling Cassie I wonder for the millionth time why I haven’t had the damn thing removed. Who spends their entire adult life with their high school sweetheart’s initial inked onto their hip? A first class idiot, that’s who. In other words—me.

  “You were looking online? At stuff about me?” My mouth goes dry. This cannot be a good thing.

  “Don’t try to turn this around. I was looking at your stats and stuff when I fell down a rabbit hole of gossip.” Cassie crosses her arms over her chest. She’s angry, but there’s a sadness in her eyes that makes me wary. She’s ready to argue and who knows what she’s seen on the Internet. I’m sure some of the crazy things she’s read are true, but the other stuff…

  “Gossip?” I try to tread lightly.

  “Unless it’s not just gossip.” Cassie’s voice quivers a little.

  “You’d have to tell me what you read for me to be able to answer that.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know.”

  “Fair enough. Do you want to hash this out here in the bathroom or can you give me a second to get dressed?” I’d really rather not have my heart handed to me on a plate while I stand here in only a towel, but I’ll let Cassie run the show. If she wants me to answer questions right here, right now then that’s what we’re going to do.

  “You can get dressed, I guess. I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.” The heat’s gone out of her voice and I suddenly regret letting her walk away from me. I hurriedly pull on a T-shirt and shorts and all but sprint to the kitchen table. Cassie’s got her laptop open, her eyes scanning whatever crazy page she’s found. I watch her face contort as she reads something that obviously makes her unhappy.

  “What?” I ask, crossing my fingers that she’s stumbled across something blatantly false. I don’t have too many skeletons in my closet, but if she’s found one I won’t lie. I want her to be able to trust me even if it costs me and this conversation is definitely going to be expensive.

  “Did you date a supermodel?” The question catches me by surprise.

  “No,” I tell her, confident in my response. Until Cassie turns the screen toward me and I’m faced with a photo of my arm around a certain blonde. “Oh,” I correct. “That’s not what it looks like.”

  “Well, what is it then?”

  “That’s business.”

  “Dating a model is business?” There’s no way Cassie will understand this. Already, she’s twisting her mouth into an angry little pucker.

  “My agent set that up. She was single and I was single and we both needed to look less…” This explanation sounds ridiculous even to me.

  “Less single?” Cassie supplies.

  “I guess. And she’s not a supermodel.”

  “Graham, she was in the Victoria’s Secret fashion show two years ago. And the year before that. She was on a billboard in Times Square.”

  I had forgotten about that. “But I didn’t really date her.”

  “Did you sleep with her?”

  The question hangs in the air for longer than it should. Here’s where I officially step in it.

  “Once.”

  “Once? But you weren’t dating?”

  Frustration has me rubbing the back of my neck, squeezing hard enough to hurt a little. “I liked her and we were already kind of pretend dating. We tried to see if it would work.” This is sounding worse and worse. Someone please hit me over the head with the shovel instead of letting me dig this hole deeper and deeper.

  “You slept with her to see if it would work out?” Cassie’s nostrils flare.

  “That’s not what it was like! And you can’t be mad at me for something that happened before we even got together. I’m not trotting out every guy you’ve slept with and making you explain the situation.”

  “And why didn’t it work out, Graham? Because you still have Julia’s initial on your hip?”

  I take a deep breath. She’s partly right. It didn’t work out because supermodel or no supermodel, no one has been able to compete with Julia. Not until now.

  “That was a factor,” I confess. “Really it didn’t work out because it wasn’t right. She wasn’t right for me and I wasn’t right for her either.”

  “Because she wasn’t Julia. A fucking supermodel and you still choose Julia. What am I supposed to think about that, Graham?”

  “You can think whatever you want.” I’m starting to raise my voice even as I fight to keep my emotions in check. Yelling isn’t going to make Cassie calm down. “But all of that’s got nothing to do with you and I and what we’re doing right now.”

  “Nothing to do with now?” Cassie laughs, a bitter, angry laugh.

  “That’s all in the past.”

  “You called them your family, Graham. That was just a few days ago. Or did you forget that already?”

  “What are you talking about?” I rack my brain for information and come up empty.

  “At the end of the game. You said Happy Thanksgiving to Julia and her family like they were your family. You called Charlie and Noah your boys for fuck sake.”

  “I always say that if I have to play on Thanksgiving! I’ve been saying that for years. You didn’t find that on my Wikipedia page, Encyclopedia Brown?” I’m shouting now and Cassie recoils a bit.

  “What do you think people think when they hear that?” Cassie straightens her spine. “When you call them your family?”

  “I don’t give a fuck what people think. I only care what Charlie and Noah think. I’m not about to apologize for telling the whole world I love those kids. You of all people should understand that.”

  Cassie stills.

  “I know they’ve got Steve and now they’ve got Zach and his family, but I’ll be damned if those boys ever think they don’t have me too.” I stab my index finger into my chest. “If you can’t accept that then I don’t know what to tell you, Cassie. I’ve been through what they’re going through and Charlie and Noah don’t need temporary. They need permanent, especially now. So, no, I don’t give a fuck what other people think.”

&
nbsp; Still nothing from Cassie as she watches me lose my shit.

  “I like people to know how I feel about them, Cassie. I like to tell them. Hell, I like to tell the whole world. But you won’t let me tell you or anyone else how I feel about you. What was I supposed to say? ‘And to the girl I’m crazy about who only lets me fuck her but never lets me tell anyone, I hope you had a great turkey day?’ Jesus, Cassie. I can’t win.”

  “You’re crazy about me?” Cassie says it so softly I almost don’t hear her.

  “Yes. Goddamn it, Cassie.” I put my head in my hands. “I’m so fucking crazy about you I can hardly see straight.”

  “Are you seeing anyone else?”

  Seriously? What the hell is going on here? “Did you see that online, too?” I ask her. “That I’ve got some girlfriend?”

  “Your agent told Steve you’re seeing someone.”

  “My agent?” I’m going to fucking kill Dave. “He told Steve what, exactly?”

  “He told Steve that you’re seeing someone and Steve mentioned it to Julia.” Cassie has the good sense to look a little sheepish about the game of telephone she’s describing.

  “When was this?” I ask.

  “A few weeks ago,” Cassie tells me.

  “And you’re just asking me about it now? Cassie, if you have questions you have to ask them. No wonder you’re pissed.” I try not to smile, but the idea of Cassie being upset I might be seeing someone else has me feeling a little smug.

  “I’m glad you find that funny,” she snaps.

  “I find it funny that you think I’d have time for another girl. When would I fit her in? While you’re at work? She’d have to have a pretty flexible schedule.”

  “I don’t need you tell me how flexible she is,” Cassie spits out and I can’t keep the laugh I’m holding in from barreling out.

  “Cassie, you know there’s only you. The only woman I’ve told Dave about is you.”

  She furrows her brow. “Me? Why would you tell your agent about me?”

  “Because he met you and then he kept asking about you.” Cassie’s wary look has me backtracking. “I mean, I didn’t give him details. He just figured it out.”

  “And he told Steve?” Cassie’s more upset now than she was when she thought I’d been screwing a supermodel.

  “Maybe. Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out and I’ll tell Dave to shut up.”

  “But if Julia’s dad knows…” The look of horror on Cassie’s face has me reaching out to her and pulling her onto my lap.

  “He’s not going to tell anyone. He hasn’t even said anything to me about it. If Steve knows, then he knows. Would that be so terrible?” I know Cassie’s going to think so, but it highlights the difficulty of keeping our secret. People are bound to find out and it would be better if they found out from us. Now Steve’s impromptu football lesson with Cassie makes way more sense. And she had to suspect they were talking about her all along.

  “And who are you to be busting my balls when Julia’s told me about you going out with some analyst or something?” I had planned to never bring that ass up with Cassie ever, but while we’re clearing the air…

  “I don’t date. You know that.” Cassie looks at me like I’m the dumbest man on the planet.

  “Then who’s your repeater? Julia says it’s more than once.” Hopefully he’s a figment of Julia’s imagination.

  “A repeater? Is that what she said?” Cassie twists in my lap to face me.

  “Yeah. And she tried to get me to tell her what I knew about him so spill it.” Then I can track him down and throw him off a bridge or something.

  “I was talking about you. I just made that other stuff up to throw Julia off. You’re the repeater, dumb ass.”

  Damn right I am. “You haven’t been seeing someone else?”

  “No,” Cassie moans.

  “You don’t have to sound so upset about it.” I nip her shoulder.

  “It’s just, I never intended for things to get like this.”

  “Like what?”

  Cassie swivels until she’s straddling me. “Like this.” She puts her head on my chest and my arms reflexively close around her. “I’m accidentally monogamous.”

  I fight the urge to pump my fist in the air. “So, we’re accidentally exclusive?”

  “If you aren’t seeing anyone else, then yeah.” Cassie sounds like she’s reporting the world’s worst news. And when she tilts her head back to look up at me I almost expect there to be tears.

  “You were really jealous.” I’m having a hard time keeping the excitement out of my voice. Cassie might be feeling like she’s at a funeral, but for me this moment is Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one.

  “I told you I’ve never done this before.” Her head comes back down on my chest with a thump. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “But you just can’t resist me.”

  “Something like that.” She lets out a frustrated puff of air that I feel through the cotton of my shirt.

  “Cassie, I—”

  “No.” She cuts me off with her hand over my mouth, shaking her head. “Don’t do that. Don’t say anything else.”

  I slide my hands to cup Cassie’s face, press my lips to her cheeks, her forehead. This is where I should tell her how happy I am that she’s mine, use my words. But I know Cassie doesn’t want to hear those things. Not yet. So I try to show her with my body, by the way I touch her, the way I kiss her. I imagine that she’s telling me how she feels when she wraps her arms around me and pulls me tighter, when she fits her body against mine.

  “I’m still all sweaty,” Cassie breathes against my neck.

  “I can fix that.” I lift her up and carry her back to my bathroom for a do over.

  “Hey. Can’t sleep?” Cassie’s voice pulls me out of the fog.

  “No. What time is it?”

  “Almost three. You should come back to bed. Unless you sleep better alone.” There’s that doubt again.

  “I sleep best when you’re in my bed,” I tell her and then run a hand over my face. Morning will be here before I know it and tomorrow I’ll feel like shit. Not that I have anywhere to be for anyone to notice, which is why I’m sitting in my boxers in my office chair instead of enjoying the fact that Cassie’s here. I look at her long legs sticking out from the bottom of one of my T-shirts and curse myself for not being able to turn off the voices in my head long enough to stay curled up with her.

  “Then you must sleep like shit.” She leans against the doorframe. “What’re you doing in here?”

  Brooding. Pouting. Shaking an angry fist at the gods of football.

  “Thinking.”

  “About what?” Cassie pads over beside me and pulls one of the folders from the top of my desk. “Are you doing something with a car dealership?”

  “Not if I can help it,” I say and sigh.

  “Is this all your what to do after football stuff?” She thumbs through the stack of paper on the desk.

  “I guess.”

  “Your agent told Steve you were avoiding this. That you were using the girl you’re seeing—me—not to have to think about it. True?”

  “That I’m avoiding it or that I’m using you to avoid it?” I ask and watch Cassie’s mouth twist. “Because, yeah, I’m avoiding this like it’s my job, but you don’t have any blame in that.” I offer my hand to her and she takes it. Lets me pull her into my lap. I settle my hand between her thighs and she snuggles tight against my chest.

  “I thought you were going to do the announcing thing.”

  “I am, if they decide they like me, but I need other things to keep busy and to keep money coming in. That gig won’t last forever.” Just like football.

  “Explain the choices to me.” Cassie yawns.

  “It’s late. We should go back to bed.” I make a move to stand but Cassie won’t let me.

  “You know you aren’t going to go to sleep. Talk to me about this. Maybe I can help you sort it out.”<
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  “That’s very relationship-like,” I tease.

  “Is it?” She shrugs. “Then I’m better at this than I thought.”

  “You don’t want to hear about this crap.” I tilt my head to latch onto her neck. I’d much rather nibble on Cassie than go through all the boring choices sitting in front of me. She pulls away.

  “Nope. Not falling for that. If you’ve been putting these decisions off, I’m not going to be your excuse for procrastinating. You can have that when you finish your homework. No dessert before dinner.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I scowl but I appreciate the way Cassie’s bossing me around. And she’s right—I can’t ignore these decisions much longer.

  “Then be a good boy and give me the short summary. Then I can try to forget that you compared me with your mother before I drag you back to the bedroom.”

  “My mom’s awesome.”

  “True, but do you want to fuck her?”

  I blanch. “Hard no.”

  “Then let’s not compare me to Jackie ever again.”

  I laugh. “The short version of this is that I need to get myself organized for the next thirty years or so.”

  “That doesn’t seem short.”

  “Exactly. So how am I supposed to decide?”

  “You aren’t interested in any of these offers?” Cassie flips through the stack again. “Not even this restaurant partnership? That sounds fun, maybe.”

  “Not really. I like to eat, but I don’t want to worry about the other parts.” I lean back in my chair, taking Cassie with me.

  “But how involved would you have to be? I mean some of these look like you’d just be an investor.”

  “Some of it’s passive, I guess. Once I put the money in it wouldn’t require much day-to-day, but that doesn’t solve the problem of what I’m going to do to burn some daylight. In case you hadn’t noticed, I like routine. Without that I’m fucked.”

  Cassie does her best surprised face. “You like routine? You? I never would have guessed. I just thought all that getting up at six am for no reason was your way of kicking me out of bed.”

  “Hardly.” I run my palm along her spine. “You’re lucky I ever let you go anywhere. If I didn’t make myself leave the house I’d try to keep you here forever, too.”