“I tried, didn’t I?” Damien threw up his hands, snarling at her. “You swore up and down that she was a professional virgin, that she’d never give up the goods. What the hell was I supposed to do? I’m not a fucking monk!”
I swayed on my feet, though Ice steadied me, murmuring more quiet words I couldn’t understand.
“What is going on here?” Brad demanded, then turned to Amy. “This is classic. There’s a whole Thanksgiving dinner table fights hashtag. Give me my phone.”
“You’re an actor,” I flung the word at him. “That’s why you smelled like theater makeup, isn’t it?”
“I did a show for the kids in the park this morning,” he replied, shoving his hands in his front pockets. “You have a nose like a fucking bloodhound.”
My voice came out surprisingly steady, but I couldn’t feel anything. Just numb. “None of it was real. All a trick. A role for you to play.”
“That’s not true.” Damien stepped toward me and I backed up, Ice’s warm body bracing me. “At first, I mean, yeah. But then… Then I really started to like you. You’re funny and smart, and a terrible drunk. And then so freaking sexy I didn’t believe you were a virgin. And then you wanted to—”
I held up a hand. “I think everyone here knows more than enough about my virginity and lack thereof, thank you.”
“I never meant for it to go down like this,” he said quietly. “I told you I had stuff to explain. If you’ll just—”
“No. I want you to leave.”
“Okay.” He shoved his hands back in his pockets, hunching miserably. “Fair enough. I’ll call you later and we can—”
“Don’t bother,” I said crisply. “I won’t answer. I’m done listening. Done with you.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and found his number. “Blocked. Deleted.”
“You can’t just—”
“Goodbye Damien. Gabriel. Whatever the fuck your name is.”
He gaped at me, then closed his mouth, and shouldered past, a furiously black look on his face.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Charley said, following.
Ice made me sit, handing me a glass of ice water. “Steady breaths,” she advised.
From the hallway, I could hear Charley and Damien arguing in furious whispers. Then the door slammed and Charley came back in.
“I’m leaving,” I said, starting to rise, but Ice held me in my chair with a hand on my shoulder.
“No, we’re having this out,” she said.
“I should start cleaning up.” Julie, pale and quiet, stood with her dessert plate in hand. I’d ruined her perfect Thanksgiving after all. The misery balled at the base of my throat.
“We’ll all help,” Ice said, “after we talk. All of us. I’m pulling seniority.”
“You don’t have seniority.” Charley’s sullen reply echoed my own sentiments.
“When you two are acting like bitchy high school girls, I do,” Ice answered.
“C’mon Brad.” Daniel clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s see if there’s a game on to watch.”
“Hell, yeah.” Brad bounced up, grabbing his phone back from Amy. “Got any beer? I want to tell you about this idea I have for viral marketing. Holt could really take advantage of this attention economy.”
Amy watched them go, pinched lines around her mouth. What a mess we all were. Charley and Ice sat again. We all eyed the detritus of the meal in silence. Daniel walked back in, set a decanter of brandy on the table, with five glasses. “Thought you all might need this.” He kissed Charley on the head and left again.
With a sigh, she poured for all of us, passing the glasses, giving me mine last. “I’ll start. I deserved that, Ice, and I’m sorry. Marcia, I apologize to you—and you know I hate apologizing, so you know I mean it—I had no idea things would go this far.”
“Unintended consequences,” Ice murmured.
“You hired him.”
“I said I’d put in a word for him, for a part he really wanted.”
“I understand revenge,” I said, quietly, staring into the brandy, then drinking. It cut through the goop of tears in the back of my throat, and reminded me of the whiskey I’d had with Damien that first day. You were funny and smart… and then so freaking sexy. “Revenge for me meddling in your life, but I never set out to break your heart.”
“I didn’t either,” Charley insisted. “I really thought you’d like Gabriel. He was perfect for you, so I suggested that he could romance you a little. Lord knows you weren’t going to meet anyone being a wallflower at the bar. I told him what train you take, how to find you. It was never supposed to go this far. The whole ‘Damien’ thing was not my idea.”
“You cried,” I accused Charley. “You acted all hurt when I confronted you about it.”
“Actress, remember?” She looked miserably chagrined. “I was just… extending the game. I got carried away by the role.”
“Just like Damien.”
She frowned and poured more brandy. “Maybe? I don’t know. I really thought he was a terrific guy. I never expected him to go to these lengths. I had no idea until I saw him with you at the restaurant Tuesday, and, well…Maybe I misjudged him.” She looked up at me, eyes dark and damp. “I really am sorry, Marcia. I fucked up.”
“No, he fucked up. He’s the one who decided to lie to me, to pretend—” I had to stop, because I was going to lose it entirely. I groaned and laid my head on my folded arms. “It was all a game to him. None of it was real.” I’d never use the term “heartbreak” casually again. As hard as I’d tried to keep chill and just enjoy, I’d totally fallen for Damien, and now my heart actually throbbed with physical pain.
Ice took the brandy glass from my nerveless fingers. “You’ve had enough of this. Let me finish it for you.” She stroked my hair. “It won’t help to hear this, but we’ve all been there—thought a guy was the real thing and he turned out to be a shit. I specialize in the type.”
“Me, too,” Julie sighed.
“Me, three. I spent so much time being afraid of that, I never let anyone close until Daniel,” Charley said. “And then he turned out to be the best fucking thing that ever happened to me, and I had your meddling to thank for it. So there you have it. My ‘revenge’”—she did air quotes—“was to give you a chance at someone great, too. I did mean well. I know you won’t believe me, but…” She trailed off, gaze on me.
Oddly enough I did believe her. So much of my mess was of my own making, spending so much energy being jealous of her. “Can we call it good between us now?”
A smile broke through her misery. “I’d really like that.”
“Okay then.” I raked my hands through my hair, rubbing my throbbing head. “This way I can feel like shit about only one person in my life.”
“Take some time,” Ice advised. “Things will look clearer in the morning.”
“Detox will help,” Amy put in, brightening.
We all groaned and I took my brandy back from Ice, sipping to salve the pain. “Let’s clean up so I can go home and cry into my pillow.”
“One thing first,” Ice said, grabbing the decanter to refill her own glass, “it’s time to introduce a new rule.”
“Ooh!” Julie clasped her hands together. “On long-term relationship scoring.”
“No,” Amy and Charley said in the same breath, then exchanged bemused glances.
“I’m not touching that one,” Ice agreed. “This isn’t for the Rules. I want everyone at this table to agree that this ends it. No more meddling. No setting each other up without full consent and knowledge.”
We all looked at each other, a kind of embarrassed nostalgia settling around us.
“I’ll go first,” I said, “since I started it. I do so solemnly swear.”
One by one, we all agreed. Charley refilled our glasses and we toasted to it.
Then we voted that Daniel and Brad had to do clean up.
~ 13 ~
Detox turned out to be a good idea. Not that I’d a
dmit it to Amy, but the series of cleansing teas and protein drinks actually made me feel less bloated and stupid with grief. Julie even made the quinoa concoctions taste good, following Amy’s guidelines and then adding in her own touches. I couldn’t drink the aloe vera gel stuff, because the smell reminded me too much of Damien. Gabriel.
Whatever.
I moped around most of Friday, obediently eating and drinking what they handed me, and even going on a brisk walk with Ice and Julie—though I flat out refused to run with Amy. They offered to talk and dropped it when I said no, being the good friends they are. Otherwise I stayed in my room, reading novels and trying not to think too hard.
On Saturday, after sleeping in and lying there reading for a while, I looked around my room, my gaze falling on the framed photo of Neuschwanstein castle. Ready for a bit more detox, I got up, pulled on my sweats and began cleaning.
I’d stripped pretty much everything from the walls when Charley rapped on the doorframe.
“Wow,” she said, raising her brows. “Is this healthy purging or self-destructive?”
I looked around at the chaos. “Healthy, I think. I’ve maybe been hanging on to old dreams for too long.”
She gave a little one-shoulder shrug, leaning against the doorway, all long limbs and her hair hanging loose. “Dreams are good, too. I know not all of mine will come true, but I still like to take them out and shine them up once in a while.”
For once, though, I didn’t envy her casual beauty. Charley had her problems, like we all did. “You’ll get there,” I said, “and we can all say we knew you when.”
“I’ll deny it, though.” She cracked a brilliant grin, and I shook my head at her, returning to packing up my box of memorabilia.
“Have you looked at the Missed Connections?”
“No,” I said. “I’m done with that. All part of the Detox My Life program.”
“You should maybe look.”
I stood up and eyed her. “You swore not to meddle.”
She held up her hands, face solemn. “This isn’t meddling. It’s… a nudge. I think you should look, at least.” She pulled her phone out of her bra, thumbed it on and handed it to me.
“Eww, it’s all warm.”
“Baby.”
I snorted, then went still at the ad on the screen.
m4w (Chicago) Marcia.
I screwed up. But I meant it when I said I’m not that guy. I won’t just walk away from you. If you’re ever ready to listen, I’m here, running this ad just in case.
No matter what, I’ll always remember our week together as the happiest in my life.
To the good and the bad, and the best of both.
Yours, in utter effing misery,
G/D
I read it three times. As much as I’d fantasized there might be an ad for me someday from a secret admirer, I’d never imagined this. Finally I handed the phone back to Charley, who watched me with quiet sympathy.
“It’s a really good ad,” she said.
“Yeah.” I shook my head. “I don’t even know what to think, what to believe.”
She tucked the phone away again. “I don’t have any advice. You know me—I wouldn’t have given him another shot.”
I studied her. “But you think I should.”
“No,” she corrected. “I think you should do what you want to do. I just wanted to make sure you saw it.”
“Thank you.”
“The least I could do.” She smiled wryly. “I can vouch, however, that no one would put up with your mother’s shit just for fun and games.”
I winced, remembering. “I am sorry she was a bitch to you.”
Charley shrugged it off. “Good character study. She manages to pack so much insult into ‘don’t you look pretty.’ I aspire to deliver lines like that.”
“She hated Damien, too. Gabriel. Whatever.” It occurred to me to wonder if she would have liked him better as the golden boy. I have ideas. Stuff I’m working on. He hadn’t wanted to tell her the truth, because of keeping the secret from me. “Is he a good actor? Like career good.”
Charley raised her brows. “You bought him as Damien, didn’t you?”
“That’s the problem—I liked Damien. I hate to think he was just some trumped up character.”
“Well, only one way to find that out.”
True.
I thought about it for a while. And finished cleaning my room. I got rid of a lot of it—and even let Amy weigh in on redecorating ideas. Eventually I ended up ordering a new bed set in grays with hints of pink, which helped tone down the rest while still keeping the feel. And I rehung the photo of Neuschwanstein castle, because dreams can be good, too.
Every day I checked the Missed Connections, and every day the ad was still there, just like he’d promised.
Finally, I replied. Because I wanted to. A simple three-word line:
Who is this?
~ 14 ~
“Why are we standing on the porch in the freezing cold again?” Amy complained.
“You run in the freezing cold all the time,” I pointed out.
“Key word there being ‘running.’ Standing is just chilly.”
“You’re keeping me company so I don’t go crazy waiting.”
She checked her phone. “It’s only two minutes after four. He maybe got stuck in traffic.”
“On a Sunday afternoon?”
“True. Will he be on the bike?”
“I don’t know. He just said to wait on the porch. I have no idea what he has planned.” I wasn’t sure of any of this at all. Part of me was all fantasy-riddled, dreamy, excited; another part had my stomach in worried knots. Damien said he wanted to explain and I’d said I’d listen. Elizabeth Bennett, reading Darcy’s letter. She’d probably felt like this—still angry, also hurt, and yet with that longing…
Amy clutched my arm. “Oh. My. God.”
I followed her gaze and my throat went tight, my heart fluttering. A white stretch limo came down the block, a guy in black hanging out the sunroof, holding something in his arms. The car stopped in front of the house, and Damien climbed out of the sunroof, sliding down onto the sidewalk. He held out two enormous bouquets of roses, one red, one pink.
I gaped. Frozen in place and not by the whipping wind.
Amy elbowed me. “At least go get the flowers.”
Numbly, I made my way down the walk. He’d changed his look again—something between Gabriel and Damien. No lip piercings, but there was a small gold hoop in the eyebrow and matching gold beads in his ear. His hair was lighter, not blond but much more brown. He wore the black jeans he’d had on for Thanksgiving, and the black leather jacket over the deep green hoodie, both hanging open over a white t-shirt. The adorably chipped tooth.
“I figured you should have both,” he said to me. “For the grown-up you and for the little girl.”
Gingerly, I took both bouquets, cradling them in my arms. The blooms were full and lush, redolent of that perfect rose scent.
“I researched,” he said, “to get the kind with the right aroma. Apparently a lot of florists’ roses don’t smell right, or at all, and most people don’t care, but I knew you would.”
I pressed my lips together, not sure of my reply, but terribly moved that he’d thought of that. That he’d thought of all of this, that he knew me so well.
“No pirouettes, I see,” he observed with a rueful twist of a smile. “Should I leave?”
His eyes were no longer that bright aqua, but back to the twilight blue of Gabriel’s.
“They were contact lenses,” I said inanely.
“Yeah.” He half-shrugged. Nodded. Stuck his hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out a bottle of Jameson, black label. “I brought the good stuff, in case you needed more bribery to hear the extended apology. If you even want to hear it.”
“Come on in,” I said, before I knew I’d decided. “You know where my room is. I’ll grab glasses.”
He nodded again, then went with me inside, say
ing hi to Amy. She took the roses from me. “I’ll arrange them for you, if you want,” she said, a small excited smile on her lips. I grabbed a couple of glasses and headed upstairs.
Damien was standing there, the familiar black slice, but no longer such a stark contrast. With my new pale and deep gray accents, he fit in. He looked really damn good in my bedroom.
“You changed things.” He finished the turn, watching me come in.
“Some. Felt like time.”
“Glad Ulysses made the cut though.”
I glanced at my unicorn, rather incongruously perched on the watered silk pattern of the shams. “I’d never give Ulysses the boot. Sorry, I have only juice glasses. Nothing fancy.”
“These work.” He set them on my repainted vanity and poured for us both. He handed me a glass and held his up mutely.
I clinked without comment and took a sip. So good. “This stuff is pricey. I looked it up.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“How the hell can you afford it, let alone in that bar?”
“This is your first question?” He laughed, shaking his head.
“My first question was about the contact lenses, technically.”
“True. And, yes—the lenses, haircut, dyed it black.”
“That’s why your hair smelled like aloe. I knew I recognized that scent, but I didn’t put it together.”
“You and that hyperactive nose.” He shook his head. “I even got some really strong bay rum aftershave, to throw you off the scent. Har har.”
“What about the lip piercings?”
He bit his lower lip, curling it up for me to see the twin holes beneath. “I have them still. I was at a teaching job today—out in Evanston, that’s what I do on Sunday mornings—so I take out the ones more likely to offend for that.”
“And the tattoo?”
“Had that, too—and, before you ask—for the reason I told you. I didn’t lie to you about anything real, Marcia.”
My heart lurched a little, then settled back into place, only a little tender. “You knew I was a virgin though.”
Missed Connections Box Set Page 24
