by Kylie Scott
“Thank you.” He placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “I think you’re the best female friend with occasional benefits I’ve ever had.”
“Shucks.” I quickly ducked my head, hiding the hurt. I was not going to cry. It was just all of the emotion going on these days getting to me, that’s all. My heart had taken one knock too many. But no biggie, I’d survive. So that’s where we were right now. Of course I’d known, it just sucked to hear him say it out loud. Especially after Star’s bullshit inquisition downstairs. “You’re a sweet talker, Mr. Collins.”
“Hello?” called a voice, followed by Stan stepping into the room. For some reason he seemed hesitant. “Morning.”
“Hi,” I said.
“Dad.” Joe stepped forward, dusting off his hands.
“Looks like it’s going well.” Stan wandered about the room, inspecting everything.
“Yeah, with Alex’s help we’re pretty much keeping to schedule.”
“That’s good.”
I took a sip of my coffee, uncertain if I should be here or elsewhere. In the end, I picked up my paintbrush, turned my back on them, and got back to work. Rembrandt had nothing on me these days. My painting expertise was moving ahead in leaps and bounds.
“I wanted to talk to you about that,” said Stan. “I’ve, ah, been giving some thought to what you said about the business.”
“Right?”
“And you’re right. It’s time for you to take over.” The shuffling of feet. “You’ve been doing the bulk of the work for a long time, heading up projects. I just didn’t want to admit it.”
Holy shit.
“Huh,” said Joe, surprise clear in his tone.
“I’d like to keep helping out where I can, but with my arthritis, I’m not up to doing anywhere near as much as I used to. It’s the truth.” Stan sighed. “Think it’s about time Collins and Son became Collins and Father.”
“Dad … I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything, put me to work,” said Stan in his gruff voice. “Let’s get these apartments done. After that, I’m taking your mother to Hawaii for a couple of weeks. About time we had a proper vacation.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” said Joe. “Mom’ll love that.”
There came the sound of backslapping, low happy chuckles.
“Hey,” said a deep male voice. Patrick stood in the doorway, checking out the almost finished apartment.
“Pat, man. How is Nell doing today?” asked Joe, going over to do some more of the dude backslapping and handshaking.
“Better. Your mom’s visiting with her,” said Pat. “Nell told me to get out of her face for a while. To go do something. I’ve closed the shop for a few weeks and it seems like they’ve got downstairs running pretty well. Figured I’d come see if you could use a hand.”
“Always.”
The three men huddled together, discussing the ins and outs of the project. Joe looked so happy. The happiest I’d seen him since the accident. Star had been right, his friends and family really did have his back. Now. And she might be happy to hang around and keep trying to get something started with him despite his being in no condition to deal with any more emotional upheavals. I certainly wasn’t going to be that person.
No. It was time for me to do what he’d asked for in the first place and leave. To go back to my own life.
“I’m just going to get some air,” I said.
Joe nodded, the other men still talking the how’s and why’s of construction. Damned if it didn’t even make me feel like more of an outsider. Me and my delicate little feelings were ready for some breathing room. I picked up my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. Given we’d barely hit midmorning, I’d have plenty of time to make the afternoon flight to Seattle.
And I sucked at goodbyes. Seriously sucked at them. Probably another reason why I’d tended to avoid entanglements in the past. One by one, all of my rules had gotten broken for Joe Collins. Now even my heart was starting to show some cracks.
Without saying a word, I left.
* * *
I sent him a text a couple of hours later from the airport saying goodbye. He didn’t respond.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Dear Joe,
I know you’re probably angry at me for leaving the way I did. What can I say? I guess we both wound up needing some space. Honestly, the thought of saying goodbye to you face-to-face was too much. Maybe it was me reverting to my old ways and running and hiding. But please try and understand that at the time it’s what I felt was best for both of us.
Any news from your lawyer friend about the idiot trying to sue you? I hope she can send him packing. And how is your arm, what did the doctor say at your checkup?
I hope everything is on the improve and that the work on the apartments is going well. If you could send me some photos sometime, that would be great.
Love, Alex
Hi Joe,
I don’t know if you’re reading these, but I’m going to keep writing anyway. My work is going great, the job that came through while I was in CdA is a lot bigger than my usual. The initial company logo package I designed was approved and now they want me to look at several more of their businesses. They’re great to work for and pay on time, what more could I ask for?
How is your work going? I bet you’re making much better time with your dad on board than you were with my dodgy renovation skills. Please say hi to everyone in the Dive Bar and to your family for me. Is Star still staying with you and Eric? I hope Nell is back on her feet and doing okay.
Val says hi. She’s doing well, busy doing makeup on a couple of TV shows being made locally. The hours are crazy but she’s loving the challenge. Her and her partner Liam are as happy as ever.
You’d be impressed, even with the crappy cold weather I’ve been going out a bit more to movies. Actually eating dinner out instead of living on delivery. I haven’t been going on any dates, I’m not open to anything like that right now. Maybe what happened between us is never really going to be resolved. Maybe you’re going to stay mad at me for a long time. I don’t know. But if you finish the apartments and you think you’d maybe still like to come visit Seattle, you’d be very very welcome.
Love, Alex
P.S. Marty says hi too.
Dear Joe,
I miss you. Please write back to me. Even just something short to let me know you’re okay.
Love, Alex
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Nervous didn’t cover what I was feeling. Terrified came closer.
A week before Christmas I stood outside a monster-size log cabin situated on Lake Coeur d’Alene. This had to be the place. Security at the gates had checked my name off an invite list and the cab had dropped me at the wide front steps. If Liberace had a log cabin, it’d look like this. Completely over the top.
Time to be brave and go inside, it was too damn cold to stand outside in the icy wind any longer.
The main room was roughly the size of my apartment back in Seattle, but three stories high and with a rustic chandelier. Flames blazed in a massive fireplace framed by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water. Flashily dressed people mingled with champagne flutes and martini glasses in hand. In one corner, Vaughan sat on a raised platform playing guitar. Okay, so I was definitely in the right place.
“Miss, may I take your coat?” asked a man in a spiffy three-piece suit.
“Thank you.”
At least I hadn’t over- or under-dressed. The dark blue velvet fit-and-flare fifties-style dress might be simple, but the new YSL black stilettos and Mom’s black-pearl necklace amped things up nicely. I fit in. A woman also in a three-piece suit came past with a silver tray loaded with a variety of beverages. I grabbed a cut-crystal glass with two fingers’ worth of scotch in it and downed it in one. Ooh yeah. Feel the fire.
Right now, Dutch courage was my one and only friend. Well, along with the cute little black-and-white dog sniffing at my shoes.
“I didn’t step in anything
, I promise,” I told the dog, reaching down to pat him. He immediately rolled onto his back, giving it up for a good belly scratch. “Yeah, baby. You know you want it.”
“He really does,” a man with shoulder-length wavy blond hair told me. Not Joe, this one was actually smiling at me. “Hi, welcome to my home. Well, actually it’s my wife’s place, she made me sign it over to her because apparently I’m not responsible enough to look after things. Accidentally burn down one kitchen trying to make popcorn old style and you never hear the end of it. Like I had a clue a pan full of hot oil left unattended would catch on fire. Crazy, right?
“Um.”
“But no, I get the blame same as always. She’s all, like, you’re why we can’t have nice things. Actually, between you and me, I looked pretty fucking funny with no eyebrows for a month. That’s Killer, by the way,” he nodded at the dog, before continuing on with barely a pause for breath, “such a lady’s dog. He’s always chasing tail.”
Eyes wide, I just stared. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you Mal Ericson from Stage Dive?”
“Hmm? Yeah. That’s me.” His brow furrowed. “Hang on, why would I take that the wrong way?”
“Oh. No, well—”
“Hey,” said a guy with dark, slicked-back hair and a cool gray suit, who looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of GQ. Apart from the two toddlers. I don’t think they usually accessorized with those. “Man, can you take Zeny for a sec? Lena’s just chilling with Anne and Lydia and I don’t want to disturb them. But Steph needs her diaper changed.”
Holy hell, it was Jimmy Ferris. Also from Stage Dive. Mind. Blown.
“Sure.” Mal took one of the twins off his hands. Lord knows how he knew which was which, the gorgeous girls were absolutely identical with their dark curls and cherub mouths. “Who loves Uncle Mal best? Yes, you do. You’re helpless to resist my charm, aren’t you?”
The toddler giggled, then smacked him in the face. Honestly, I kind of liked her style. Funny thing, though, even when Jimmy strode off blowing bubbles on the other baby’s neck and making her screech with glee, the bad smell didn’t dissipate any.
Mal just sighed. “You’ve done something bad in your pants too, haven’t you?”
“Da-da-da-da,” said Zeny.
“Z, your da is a big naughty word that starts with d and ends with k.” Mal turned back to me with a pained expression. “You’d think being a millionaire rock star would save me from having to deal with poopy diapers, wouldn’t you? But no. My life is a complete misery ever since everyone started popping out babies. Total chaos. It’s not okay.”
He searched the crowd, eyes narrowing in on someone. “And she knows about it. She’s laughing at me, Z. Why, I bet your Auntie Anne sent you over here for me to deal with, didn’t she? They’re all against me.”
Zeny smacked him in the face again, following it up with a big wet open-mouthed kiss to his cheek. Talk about slobber.
“You’re lucky I love you,” he told the baby. Meanwhile, the little dog, Killer, yipped joyfully, jumping at Mal’s feet, making the baby laugh even more.
Zeny reached for the dog with one chubby fist. “Kiy.”
Beyond us in the main room, the party kept on keeping on. I hadn’t seen Joe yet, but he had to be here somewhere. Ever so calmly, I clutched my hands together. Hopefully that’d hide the worst of the shakes. Ah, anxiety, my old friend.
“Go, frolic, have fun,” Mal told me somberly. “I have to deal with Miss Smelly Pants here.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I smiled, trying not to laugh at the broken look on his face.
Which left me confronted with the large room full of people again. Ugh, parties. Worst. No, none of that nonsense, I could do this. One step at a time, I made my way toward the gathering. Why, a knight in shining armor facing down a dragon horde couldn’t have been as brave. There were a whole lot of people here I didn’t know. Fortunately, there were quite a few people here I did know too.
“Alex.” Lydia threw her arms around me, her cheeks a rosy hue. A color suggesting the lady had a few drinks before I arrived and was thoroughly enjoying herself. “I’m so glad you came. We weren’t sure if you would.”
“’Course I came.” I’d only finally made the decision the night before. But Lydia didn’t need to know that. “Couldn’t miss seeing Nell and Pat re-tie the knot.”
“Isn’t it great? Love, thy will be done.”
“Why are you quoting eighties song lyrics?” asked Rosie, giving me a quick side hug.
“Because Mal got the expensive champagne and I’m making the most of it.” Lydia grinned. “That redheaded guitar man is so getting drunk sex tonight. Rawr.”
“Okay, Tiger.” Rosie laughed. “Settle down.”
“Soooo,” I said, dragging out my last moments of happiness, etc. “How’s Joe?”
Dating Star. No, married to Star. God help me, he was probably pregnant with Star’s baby somehow. I wouldn’t put anything past modern science. They were all out to ruin my life.
“Good,” said Rosie, ever so succinctly.
“Oh. Great.” I grabbed another scotch off a passing tray. “Good to know he’s still breathing.”
“Yep. He’s definitely doing that.”
“Is he still working on the apartments?”
“Mmhmm.” Rosie nodded.
Taking another sip of champagne, Lydia tried to hide a smile. Not so successfully, as it turned out. Mostly she just wound up nearly dribbling the good French stuff.
I frowned.
“Why don’t you just ask me what you’re really dying to know?” said Rosie.
“Fine.” I sniffed. “Is he with Star?”
“Nope.” She grinned, showing lots of white teeth. “That turkey-brained girl is gone.”
“Once she realized Joe wasn’t going to fall at her feet, she suddenly had to be somewhere else,” said Lydia. “Maine, was it? Or New England?”
“Somewhere over that way.” Rosie shrugged. “As long as it isn’t here, we’re happy.”
“You should have seen her flirting with everything that had a penis within a fifty-mile radius.”
“Gag worthy,” said Rosie. “She even tried that shit with my husband when he came in to pick me up one time. He just ignored her, but still … not cool.”
“No,” I agreed. “Wow.”
“Feel better now?” asked Rosie, giving me a wink. “Your man is still a swinging single. Pissed at you. Still single, though.”
“Oh.”
Brows high, Lydia nodded. “He really hasn’t gotten over you leaving without saying goodbye.”
“Okay.” Bummer. Not a surprise, but still. I took a sip of the scotch. “It’s been over two months. I was sort of hoping—”
“No,” said Rosie.
“Nuh,” added Lydia. “Alex, with all due love and affection: that was not your best move.”
Rather dramatically, I sagged to one side. “I know, I just…”
Both women watched me, waiting for some amazing, all-revealing explanation. Sadly, I didn’t actually have anything resembling same. I’d needed to run at the time. Everything had been too much, too painful, too gah. Not a great word, but sadly, it fit.
Rosie gave up waiting first. “Okay, well. I hope you brought your ass-kissing lips with you.”
I nodded. “It’s a stay-on lip gloss. Chanel. Val bought it for me.”
“Great shade.”
“Thanks.” I offered a glum smile. “Exactly how angry is he? Say, on a scale of one to ten, where one is rock-and-roll wrestling where it’s mostly just posturing and finger pointing, to ten, where Godzilla is trashing Tokyo?”
The girls pondered for all of about a minute.
“Eleven?” asked Lydia.
“Sounds about right,” said Rosie. “You hurt his delicate man feelings. Given Star took off only leaving a note a few years earlier, it wasn’t pretty.”
“Shit.” My shoulders sagged. Maybe I should just hide and drink for a while. Delay t
he unhappy reunion. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“Best of luck, my friend.” Lydia clinked her champagne flute against my glass. “And remember, when in doubt, get the girls out.”
I cocked my head. “What?”
“Tits,” whispered Rosie.
“Ah.” I checked out the small amount I had on offer. “I’m not sure that’ll work in my case.”
“Apparently size doesn’t matter,” said Lydia, who had enough going on for two women with some to spare. “If they’re into breasts, then all are great.”
Maybe. “I think Joe’s more of an ass man, actually.”
Lydia sighed dreamily. Dreamily or drunkenly. Tricky to tell which. “Nothing says I love you like anal.”
I downed some more scotch. It was worth a thought.
“Okay.” With one hand on top of the other, Rosie made the T for time-out symbol. “There are small innocent babies here somewhere. Let’s keep butt sex out of this, please.”
“Sorry,” said Lydia, chastised.
All of a sudden, from the stage situated in the corner of the room, Vaughan started playing the “Wedding March.” Amid much whistling, clapping, and cheering, people moved to either side of the room, leaving an aisle. Andre, in a sharp blue suit, stood beside Nell, resplendent in a slinky simple ivory gown. The woman was beaming, her whole face lit up with love. Up front stood an Elvis impersonator, strangely enough. And Patrick, in black jeans and a black button-down shirt.
“Mal insisted they get married by the same Elvis who married Anne and him in Vegas,” whispered Lydia. “He said the dude knows how to make vows stick.”
“Elvis hoodoo?”
She shrugged. “Guess so.”
I frowned. “Oh, have I gone mad or is half of Stage Dive here?”
“No, all of Stage Dive is here,” said Lydia.
“They’re buddies with Vaughn. His old band toured with them.”
Nell and Patrick deserved to be happy. I had another mouthful of scotch, smiling at all the love in the air. Peace, happiness, stuff like that. Contrary to those emotions was the big strong hand gripping my arm, drawing me back through the crowd.
