by Megyn Ward
I’m usually the one who goes looking for a reconciliation. Apologizing for things that aren’t my fault. Begging for another chance, even though I’m not the one who should be on my knees. The shift isn’t entirely pleasant but it’s something that makes me feel strong. Ready for whatever life has in store for me. I don’t need James. I don’t need anyone.
“Are you sure you’re okay,” Tess says, glaring at my arm. Bruises are already starting to form. “I can get Con to go grab you some ice.”
“No,” I say. Even though my arm is sore, I don’t want any ice. I like the feeling. It feels like I finally stood up for myself. “But I wouldn’t turn down another vodka soda.”
Even though Declan’s called last call, Tess leans out of our booth to signal Con and he nods, putting his blonde on ice so he can get us another round. I want to ask Tess why she won’t just go up there and get it from Declan herself but I don’t. Because that’s not what Tess and I do. We don’t ask. No matter how much we want to.
My gaze follows him, but it lands on Patrick. He’s sitting at the bar, talking to Declan and the girl he’s been with all night. She’s got her hand on his arm and she’s smiling, gesturing toward the door like she wants him to leave with her. Then she kisses him and I feel something clench inside my gut. Something that feels a lot like jealousy. When she walks off alone, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Well, that’s interesting.”
I turn my head to see Tess looking at me, a slim dark brown arched over warm hazel eyes. Heat collects below my collarbone, and I know my birthmark is practically glowing, it’s so red. Between what happened with James and the embarrassment of getting caught spying on Patrick, it’s a wonder the stupid thing hasn’t burned a hole in chest. “How’s work going?” I ask, making Tess laugh.
“Blah, blah, re-built carburetors. Blah, blah, clutch replacement. Blah, blah, dropped a fuel tank,” she says because she knows I don’t understand much about her job as a mechanic. She knows I don’t really care either. I just want to change the subject. “What about you?” she says, having mercy on me. “When do you start your fancy art job?”
“Monday.” The mention of my new job brings on an excited flush. “I’m even more nervous now that I’ve got the job. I want this so bad and I’m afraid that I’m going to mess it up somehow.”
“Impossible.” I look up to see Patrick stand outside the booth, a friendly smile on his face. Not at all like the guy who threated to put my ex-boyfriend in a coma less than an hour ago. Guinness in one hand and my vodka soda in the other, he hands me my drink and I smile back, sliding across the seat to make room for him. He hasn’t asked me about James yet either. To be honest, I’m not sure what I would say to him, even if he did.
“Is your new boss a guy?” Conner says, sitting down next to Tess, forcing her to scoot across the booth. “Because if he is, all you have to do is wear that dress to work, every day.” He gives me the lopsided grin he uses to charm college girls out of their panties. “Because, seriously—employee of the month. Every month.”
“Oh, my god,” Tess says, jerking her drink out of Conner’s grasp. “You are the biggest asshole I’ve ever met in my life.”
Conner leans into her. “You better be glad about it too,” he says, flicking the tip of her nose with his tongue, making her squeal. “If I wasn’t such an asshole, you’d be panting after me, morning, noon and night.”
She pushes him back and he lets her with a laugh. “You want to know why I’m not panting after you like the rest of your groupies?”
Conner gives her a bland smile. “Because you don’t know a good thing when you see it?”
Tess returns his smile with a sweet look that all but guarantees a verbal slaughter. “Because I’ve seen you naked.”
“We were seven, sweetheart.” Conner leans back in his seat, full of swagger that entirely unfounded. “Things change.”
Despite the exchange, Conner and Tess sound more like brother and sister, giving each other a hard time. Three years ago, I mistook them for a couple. Now, the thought of them together makes me laugh.
“I’m taking off,” Declan appears at the edge of the booth, hands dug into the pocket of his jeans, gaze nailed to his brother’s face. “Jessica wants to go look at wedding venues tomorrow.” He pulls a key from his pocket and tosses it at Conner. “Lock up.”
Something his brother says turns Conner’s easy smile black around its edges. “Sure thing, Dec,” he says, his tone hard. He snatches the key from the air before cocking his head. “Hey, before you go, can you help me convince Tess to come home with me and sit on my face? So I can show her how a Gilroy’s supposed to do it.”
It wasn’t any lewder or more disgusting that anything else he’s ever said but something about his tone sounds off. Angry. Defiant. My gaze instantly flies to Tess’ face but her eyes are glued to the drink in her hand, knuckles white from with the force of her grip. Usually she’d punch him in the arm or smack him upside the head. Right now, she looks like she’s having a hard time just breathing.
Something clicks and I take another look at Declan. He’s got that same punched-in-the-gut look Tess has.
“Jesus, Con,” Patrick says, wiping his hand across his mouth, smothering his words. I feel his knee press into mine, ready to launch himself between the two brothers if it comes to that.
Color drains from Declan’s face a second before his jaw flexes, his gaze pulled for a split second toward Tess before landing it on his little brother. “What did you say?”
“You heard me, fuckstick,” Conner says, his smile flattening out into something dangerous. “At least I’m loyal.”
Declan let out a strangled sound that might have been a laugh. “Loyal? You’re fucking kidding me, right?” His hands were working, clenching into fists and then relaxing, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to choke his brother or not. “You’ll stick your dick into any—”
“Enough.” Patrick drops his hand away from his mouth, slamming it against the table in front of him, hard enough to make me jump in my seat. “Leave it alone,” he says, splitting a look between them, his tone reverberating with more authority than I thought he was capable of. He and Conner measure in at well over six-feet but eyeballing him, Declan is even taller, his framed packed with an additional twenty pounds of muscle. Despite the size advantage, Patrick’s warning seemed to give him pause.
For his part, Conner seemed content to heed his cousin. He just takes a long drink from his pint and holds his brother’s glare.
“Fuck you, Conner,” Declan says before aiming his gaze at Patrick. “See you Sunday.” He turned away and headed for the door.
“Give Jess a big, sloppy wet one for me,” Conner called after him, refusing to let his brother get the last word. “Oh, and fuck you back.”
Declan flipped him off as he walked out the door.
As soon as he’s gone, Conner slouches in his seat and sighs. “Fuck,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over the top of his head. He turns toward Tess. “I’m sorry,” he says, uncharacteristically contrite. “It’s just—I got mad. Mentioning her…” He shakes his head, jaw clenched. “He’s such an arrogant prick sometimes.”
Tess looked at him, more shaken than angry. “As opposed to you, who’s an arrogant prick all the time?” she says, pushing her unfinished drink away like looking at it made her sick.
“I deserve that,” Conner says, seemingly at a loss for how to fix things before bumping his shoulder against hers, hoping for a smile. “Want me to take you to the bathroom and make you feel better?”
“Thanks, but getting Gilroyed isn’t going to make me feel better.” Tess cracks a smile, because where Conner is concerned, it’s impossible for her to stay angry for long. “It’ll make me vomit.”
Crisis averted, Conner grinned for real. “One of these days, you’re going to damage my self-esteem.”
“Here’s hoping,” Tess says, picking up her glass and hoisting it high and we all laugh,
clinking glasses.
“I’d like to propose another toast,” Conner says, lifting his pint again. “To my devastatingly handsome and more than slightly uptight cousin, who almost, actually got some tonight. Kudos, Cap’n.”
Patrick’s shoulder stiffened against mine but he laughs and clinks his glass against Conner’s. “Sara was nice. Just not my type.”
“So, you don’t go for hot women who are inexplicably into you? Interesting...” Tess says, shooting Conner a perplexed look before aiming it across the table. “If she’s not your type, then who is?”
Patrick opened his mouth then clamped it shut, his jaw flexing hard enough to cause a vein to pop in his temple before he opened it again. “I—”
“I have a toast too,” I blurt out, picking up my glass. “My roommate gave me four days to move out and I caught James fucking his intern in his office this afternoon.” I force a smile and tip my drink in salute. “So, here’s to me.”
Eight
Patrick
We all sit here for a few seconds, trying to digest what Cari just said. For my part, I’m glad she walked in on James and his intern. Maybe her resolve to break it off with him will stick this time.
“If you take him back, I’m going to kill you,” Tess said, reaching across the table to dig an ice cube out of Cari’s glass. “Seriously. I’ll kill you.”
Cari laughed and the sound is easy, like taking James back wasn’t even under consideration. “If I even think of taking him back, I might kill myself.”
“Well…” Tess rolled her stolen ice cube across her tongue, eyes narrowed. “Then I’ll kill your roommate.”
The mention of her roommate deflated Cari’s good mood. “I’d pay you to kill that yogurt-stealing whore it if I wasn’t almost homeless and destitute,” she says, sitting back to press her shoulders into the back of the booth. “I have less than $200 dollars to my name and I’m not going to ask my parents. They’ve done enough for me. Too much, actually.”
“What about the new boss?” Conner says, spinning his empty pint in a slow circle on the table in front of him. “You could ask for an advance.”
“No way.” Cari shakes her head like her hair is on fire. “I’m not starting out what I hope is a long and profitable professional relationship with Miranda McIntyre by begging her for money.”
“Wait—your new boss is a woman? Why didn’t you say so?” Conner says, giving Cari what I’ve coined the Gilroy grin. “I’ll just fuck it out of her for you. By the time I’m done, she’ll be begging you to take her money.”
“First of all—gross,” Tess says, shooting the kind of look martyred saints always wear in religious painting in Conner’s direction. “And second—she’s right. She can’t ask her new boss for money before she’s even started her job.” She shrugs her shoulders and I know what she’s going to say next. She’s going to offer Cari a place to stay.
“Why don’t you just move in with me.” I blurt it out, drawing looks from around the table. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t have the room. In fact, I just finished putting up a fresh coat of paint in the spare room. It’s yours if you want it.”
Conner, tilts his head, mouth open, ready to ruin everything. I kick him under the table and he shuts his trap. I smile, hoping like hell I look relaxed and calm. Like it’s the perfect solution to Cari’s problem instead of the answer to my prayers.
Cari shakes her head. “Thanks for the offer but—”
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Tess announces, shoving at Conner’s shoulder to let her out of the booth. “Come with me, Cari. You know my bladder doesn’t work right unless you’re in the same room while I pee.”
“You’re disgusting,” Conner says, helping her out of the booth.
“Guess that means we are perfect for each other,” Tess says, shifting from one foot the other, waiting for me to let Cari out.
Cari starts to laugh but as soon as she’s free, Tess grabs her hand and hauls her across the deserted bar, toward the ladies’ room.
“What are you doing?”
I look across the table to find Conner watching me—uneasy, like he thinks I might have rabies. I can pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about but that would mean I have hope that he’ll just let it go. Which I don’t. Instead, I just shrug. “She’s broke and almost homeless, what am I supposed to do, Con? She’s my friend.”
“The two of you aren’t friends,” Conner says, his tone hard and final. “You might pretend to be but you’re not.” He shakes his head at me like I’ve disappointed him somehow. “You want to fuck her. I don’t know about you but I don’t usually fuck my friends.”
“You don’t have any friends,” I say, trying to deny the fact that he’s right.
“I have Tess,” Conner shoots back, leaning back in his seat.
“She doesn’t count,” I say shaking my head. Tess and Conner have been best friends since we were kids.
“You know why she doesn’t count?” He smiles at me. “Because I don’t want to fuck her.”
“Stop saying that,” I growl at him, throwing a look over my shoulder to make sure we’re still alone. “Cari needs my help and I’m going to give it to her.”
“Okay,” Conner says, conceding with a toss of his hands. “But at least admit that you didn’t offer her a place to live because you’re a nice guy. You offered her a place to live because you want to—”
Behind me, I can hear Tess and Cari on their way back to the table. “I will punch you in the face.” I said it quietly and Conner laughs just as they made it back to the table.
“Okay,” Cari says, the birthmark on her chest a deep, rosy pink. She’s excited and I can’t help but want to believe that it’s because she’s moving in with me, not just because she’s successfully avoided homelessness. “If you’re serious, I’ll do it. I’ll move in.”
Nine
Cari
As soon as we’re in the bathroom, Tess flings me inside and shuts the door, spinning around, to press her back against it. “Say yes.”
“Say yes?” I shake my head, instantly dismissing her advice. “I can’t say yes, Tess.”
“Why can’t you?” She says it like I forgot to take my medication.
“Because he didn’t mean it—it’s just Patrick… being Patrick.” I cross my arms over my chest. “He was only offering to be nice.”
“Who cares,” she hisses at me, throwing her hands up in the air again. “He’s such a sweetheart, he won’t back out. Once you say yes, he’ll be stuck.”
“That’s horrible,” I hiss back at her, crossing my arms over my chest. “I can’t do that to him.”
“Bullshit you can’t. You’ve been lusting after Gilroy for years.”
“What? No.” I shake my head, my chest so hot, I can feel the heat of in my back. “Patrick and I are friends.”
“Really? Friends?” Tess laughs at me. “I saw you. You were about three seconds from dragging that little college skank out of Gilroy’s by her hair.”
I was caught. There was no use denying it. “So? Moving in with Patrick isn’t going to change anything.”
“It will if you tell him how feel.” Tess is looking at me but I have a strange feeling she’s talking to herself.
“What happened with Declan?” I say, breaking our unspoken vow to not ask. The exasperated look on her face gives way and for a second she looks like I sucker-punched her. “Shit.” I suddenly know what it was like to be Conner Gilroy. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“We dated the summer before I turned seventeen. He was nineteen. Things were great. Better than great. It felt like forever.” She raked a hand through her long dark hair and let out a shaky sigh. “And then it didn’t.”
I didn’t have to ask what happened. I could see it on her face. Declan broke her heart. “I’m sorry, Tess.” I say quietly.
“It was a long time ago. I’ve moved on.” She gives me the kind of smile that almost convinces me she’s telling the truth. “Conner
hasn’t, but I have,” she says with a laugh that succeeds in breaking the tension in the air. “I don’t understand what the big deal is. You’re not exactly shy when it comes to getting what you want.”
She’s right. As far as partners go, I’m no Conner Gilroy—but I’m no shy virgin either. But just because she’s right doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting to hear her say it out loud. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She must hear the hurt in my tone because she sighs. “You’re not a slut. You’re not. There’s nothing wrong with a woman enjoying sex and fuck James Templeton. He’s a dickbag and I’ve always hated him and his smarmy, smug, dickbag face.”
I laugh, even though I know she’s being serious. She’s a solid six inches shorter than I am and tiny. I mean tiny—but if Tess ever got her hands on James I know he’d limp away, missing more than a few vital parts. “You’re so adorable when you get angry—you’re like a homicidal Tinkerbell.”
“Fuck you, Faraday,” she says but she’s smiling at me so I know she doesn’t mean it. “But seriously, maybe a couple bouts of respectable, puritan sex with Predictable Patrick is just what you need to cleanse the palate.”
Predictable Patrick. We’ve been calling him that behind his back for years. Safe, predictable Patrick. He’s nothing like the guys I usually go for. For starters, he’s nice. Guys like him go for Kindergarten teachers who wear pastel-colored sweater sets and volunteer at soup kitchens on the weekends.
That’s not me.
Not even close.
Patrick hadn’t even known me and he’d agreed to take me home. I practically gave him a hand job in my driveway but instead of dragging me into the backseat—where I’d have gone willingly—he waited for me to finish embarrassing myself and said goodnight. He even waited for me to let myself in before he drove away. Three years later and I can still remember what it felt like to have his mouth on mine.
