When I reached the doors of the Rose Room, I checked my makeup, reapplying my lipstick and powdering my face just one more time. I wanted to look perfect for him.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed on the massive doors and entered the loud bar. The music boomed, but luckily, since it was happy hour, the lights were nice and bright and I was able to scan the room. Table after table was filled with Ekisaito employees wearing name tags, drinking beer, eating bar food, laughing, and swapping stories.
And then I caught sight of him. My breath caught, and I tucked my hair behind my ears, ready to cross the room and surprise the hell out of Peter McTavish. That was, until he surprised the hell out of me. Next to Peter was the last person I ever expected to see there in San Francisco, with her hand clutching his forearm like he belonged to her, looking longingly into his eyes as he spoke to everyone at the table. Cara Fucking Del Vecchio.
Nausea seized my gut and I pressed my hand over my mouth as tears formed in my eyes. How could he do this? He said that he told her to leave him alone. He told me she wouldn’t bother us anymore. He told me…. Well, he told me a lot of things, didn’t he?
For just a moment, I thought of leaving. Taking my pathetic, foolish self back to the airport and hopping on the next plane back to Seattle. Anything to escape the humiliation I was feeling in that noisy bar. But my anger overtook my shame, and I did what any self-respecting girlfriend would do. I marched my ass over to that table, my hands shaking, my mouth dry as a bone. I was terrified and irate, and the worst part was….I knew that once I reached that table, my relationship would officially be over. It would be the beginning of the end. A tear slipped down my cheek as I approached him. I captured his eyes with mine and, in an instant, his glance sharpened as realization took hold of his face. His mouth dropped as he looked down at the hand on his arm.
And Cara…well, Cara looked like the cat that ate the motherfucking canary.
Chapter 26
PETER
My week in San Francisco had been a whirlwind. Meetings, conferences, training sessions, guest speakers, and happy hours every night in the Rose Room. As much as I missed Maren, I wanted to support her, and having this author at her store was huge. She was bound to sell hundreds of books and possibly just as many candles as readers descended upon her shop. And if I was honest with myself, I was enjoying getting to know the members of my team. There were five of us, and since we were spending so much time together, I was learning their personalities, understanding how they communicated and what made them laugh. Warren was a hoot—someone I could honestly see becoming a friend. We liked the same music and laughed at the same jokes. Reyna was a piece of work—she was a perfectionist who wanted to be right all the time. I was learning how to manage her during team planning discussions. Jeremy was all work, no play. He retreated to his room the second our meetings ended. And Darby—well, considering Darby was such good friends with Cara, we had found a happy medium in our work relationship. She was a kind, unassuming person—the polar opposite of Cara. My only complaint about Darby was the fact that she invited Cara to San Francisco with her.
On the first day of the week, Cara strolled into the Rose Room for happy hour and my mouth dropped, I had no idea what to say. I was fuming.
“Oh, get over yourself, McTavish. I’m just here with Darby,” she had said after placing her dirty martini on the cocktail napkin in front of her.
“Look, Cara, it’s just that…”
“I’m going to stop you right there. I have a boyfriend, and I’m no longer the president of the Peter McTavish fan club, so you can calm the fuck down.”
“Oh,” I’d said, relieved that she was seeing someone. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine,” she waved me away, “let’s just get back to how we were, okay? I miss my friend.”
I sighed, realizing that a small part of me missed hanging out with Cara—the old Cara—before she became obsessively jealous of Maren. The Cara that used to drink me under the table and remembered every lyric to every Dave Matthews song ever recorded. She was a guys’ girl, and we’d always had fun together.
I hadn’t told Maren about Cara’s presence in San Francisco. Was it stupid of me to avoid it? Of course. I felt guilty every time Cara walked into the Rose Room. Most nights, she sat across the large table from me, but tonight, the only chair left when she reached the table was the one right next to me. I sighed, wishing Darby hadn’t beat her to the table, but thought it was best to just let it go. Besides, it was a Saturday night, and I was ready to relax. I was on my third beer and was feeling good. It was my last night in San Francisco. Once I knew that Maren couldn’t join me, I decided to schedule my returning flight for Sunday morning so that we could still spend a small amount of time together that weekend.
“You must be getting excited for Japan,” Darby said before taking a sip of her beer. “Less than a month to go, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Dude, I’ve gotten used to having you around. How are we supposed to function for three months?” Warren said, shaking his head.
“Give it a rest, Warren.” Reyna rolled her eyes. “We’ll survive just fine. No offense, Peter.”
I held up my hands in front of my chest. “None taken.” I grabbed my beer and drained it.
“He’s not worried about your survival,” Cara said with a laugh.
“Oh, that’s right. Is your girlfriend going to visit while you’re there?”
“Um, I hope so, yeah. Definitely,” I said with a decisive nod, realizing Maren and I hadn’t really discussed her visiting Japan. I’d said vague, general things like, “When you come to Japan” or “We’ll have to check out these gardens in Tokyo,” but we’d never actually had a definitive conversation. No dates had been discussed, and she hadn’t mentioned who would cover the store while she was gone. In the pit of my stomach, I worried that she wouldn’t come at all. And, to be fair, that was her decision to make. I couldn’t force her to fly across the Pacific Ocean because I had an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. That was on me, not Maren. She had to do what was best for her. But after Darby asked that question, I realized I wanted to know the answer myself. I would broach the subject the next time I saw her, I told myself. I was leaving in just a few weeks. It was time.
Cara put her hand on my arm. “Where did you go?”
“What?” I asked, in a slight daze. The beer was starting to settle in my system, and my brain was getting foggy.
She squeezed my forearm gently. “You spaced out. How many of these have you had?”
I shrugged her off. “I was just thinking.”
I inched my arm way, but she tightened her grip. She was staring off into the distance, and I thought nothing of it. “Don’t make it weird, Pete. I told you. I have a boyfriend.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know,” she laughed, “you never mean to hurt anyone. You’re a good guy.”
“But I hurt you. I’m sorry,” I said with a sigh, giving her a weak smile. An odd smirk crossed her face as her eyes narrowed and her lips curled into a smile that made the hair on my neck stand up.
What is she looking at? And why does she look so damn proud of herself?
I turned to see Maren standing across the bar. Her hair was spilling down her shoulders as she stood wearing a peacoat over a dress, pulling a small suitcase behind her. The look of shock and disappointment on her beautiful face tore at my insides. I looked down at my arm, still within Cara’s tight grip. I yanked it away and hopped off my barstool just as Maren approached the table.
Her face was a glowering mask of rage; her brows were knit, and her teeth clenched as she stood before me. “Cara? Really?”
“Maren, I can explain.”
She raised one hand to stop me, closing her eyes, her lungs heaving. Her fingers trembled as she held them high. “I don’t want to hear it, Peter. We’re over. I’m done.”
“What? Maren, c’mon… It’s not at all what you think!”
“Oh really? What, Cara just happened to be in the Bay area? Enough, Peter. I can’t listen to it anymore.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I put my hand against my forehead, trying to think of the best way to defuse the situation. “Maren!”
My voice was loud and several people turned away from their tables to watch us. Maren scanned the room before tucking her hair behind her ears. Tears streamed down her angry face, and I hated myself for making her feel that way.
“I believed you,” she said, stepping forward and lowering her voice. “I trusted you.”
“Maren, you can trust me!”
A sarcastic laugh escaped her lips as she looked up at the ceiling, her head shaking back and forth slowly. “Right.”
“Please,” I said, touching her arm. She pulled it away, stepping back. “Let’s go somewhere and talk. I promise you; it’s not what it looks like.”
“It looks like you invited your friend to come with you. That’s what it looks like,” she sneered, her tiny nostrils flaring. I’d never seen Maren so angry, even when Cara dropped the bomb about my move to Japan. She was incensed. Her cheeks were beet red; her voice was sharp and filled with disdain. I barely recognized her.
“No! I would never do that!”
Maren shrugged. “I don’t believe you.”
I attempted to take her hand in mine, to lead her out of the Rose Room. She stepped to the side, avoiding my grasp. I looked back at the table, Cara’s smirk remained on her face. When we made eye contact, she raised one wicked eyebrow before returning her attention to Darby and the others.
I’ve been played.
Maren noticed me looking back at the table. She rolled her eyes and pushed past me, pulling her suitcase behind her as she stalked toward the door. I followed close behind, calling her name as she ignored my pleas to stop.
When the loud music of the Rose Room was muffled by the large double doors, I called to her again, hoping that she just didn’t hear me while inside the noisy room. But she ignored me. I ran to catch up with her, grabbing her hand.
“This is insane. Maren, you have to give me a chance here.”
“Why? I think you’ve had plenty of chances, Peter. You’re busted. That’s all there is to it. I don’t believe a thing you have to say, and I don’t want to hear another excuse about Cara. Motherfucking Cara!”
“She has a boyfriend. She’s not even interested in me.”
“Her body language said differently.”
“It’s not like that!”
“Why is she here, Peter?” Maren demanded, her voice cracking and her brow knitted as her anger morphed to pain and confusion. Stains of scarlet appeared on her cheeks. “Why? Tell me why!”
“I didn’t invite her. I swear on my life, Maren. She came with Darby.”
She shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. “You always have an excuse. It’s never your fault.”
“Because it’s true! I would never do that to you, not in a million years; you have to believe me.”
“That’s just it… I can’t believe you anymore. I’m standing here and all I can do is picture you with her, wondering how many times she slept in your bed. Wondering how long you two have been planning this.”
“We didn’t, I swear it.”
“You don’t get it, Peter. An hour ago, I was buzzing with excitement at the idea of surprising you for a romantic weekend. And now I’m just an idiot who got on a plane when I should have stayed in Seattle.”
“You’re not an idiot. And I’m thrilled that you got on that plane.”
“So what happens next, huh? I fly across an ocean to see you in Japan and what, she’s there hiding in your closet because my flight got in a few hours early?”
“What? Of course not! Please, let’s just go upstairs and talk.” I placed my hand on her shoulder, and she tensed at my touch.
She closed her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Don’t do this. Please.”
“I didn’t do this, Peter. You did. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m not playing anymore. Have a nice life.”
She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and dragged her luggage behind her. I followed close behind, my heart breaking in two.
“At least let me get you a cab,” I yelled after her.
She turned around as a cab pulled up. “Go back to Cara. She must be worried sick.”
Her words were like a punch in the gut, and I stood frozen as she climbed into the cab. The car drove past me, and Maren turned her head in the opposite direction. My misery was like a steel weight as I stood on that sidewalk, a hopeless shell of a man. Leaning against a small tree to steady myself, I watched her cab drive down the sloping hill. Soon it blended with the rest of the traffic as Maren drove out of my life.
My defeat and anguish morphed into an overwhelming sense of hatred and bitterness as Cara crept back into my brain. Pushing myself away from the bark, I wiped my tears and cleared my throat, marching back into the building with a new sense of purpose. As I rounded the hallway that led to the Rose Room, Cara and Darby were walking down the hallway.
“We were just looking for you. Is everything okay?” Darby asked.
“Where’s Little Miss Perfect?” Cara snipped, and Darby turned in disgust.
“Cara!”
“No, seriously, where’d she go? Back to Seattle so soon?” she gloated, looking all too proud of herself.
“Knock it off, Cara! What are you doing?” Darby demanded, looking between us as I fumed.
“You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?” I pressed.
“She doesn’t,” Darby answered for her as Cara crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“And you saw Maren long before I did, didn’t you? That’s why you wouldn’t let go of my arm. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
Cara rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I want you out of my life,” I seethed.
“What?” Cara challenged with a forced, clipped laugh.
“You’ve fucked everything up, and for what? Revenge?”
Her icy stare no longer affected me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re dating a drama queen, Peter. Wake up!”
“Cara, stop!” Darby snapped.
I stepped closer to Cara, inches from her face. “From now on, I don’t know you. I won’t speak to you. I won’t look at you. I won’t even acknowledge that you exist. Do you understand?”
Cara swallowed hard and nodded.
I stormed out of the hotel, pacing in front of the revolving door as I searched my brain for a way to fix what I’d broken. But I couldn’t clear my head enough to do it.
“Shit. Fuck!”
I grabbed my phone. I knew Scott and Allison were away for a romantic weekend, and I couldn’t bother them with this. But maybe Dev. I called him. He answered after several rings.
“What’s up, man?” he asked, his voice sounded muffled.
“I fucked up, man. Really bad.”
“Whoa, what’s going on?”
“Maren showed up here, and she saw me with Cara. She freaked out, Dev. And she broke up with me. It’s over.”
“Wait, slow down. What is Cara doing in San Francisco? Dude, were you cheating on Maren?”
“No, of course not! How could you think that?”
“Well, I mean, c’mon man… What would any sensible human think? That girl has been after you for years. We all know it. And she’s in San Francisco with you…”
“She’s not with me. She came with my teammate, Darby.”
Dev sighed into the phone. “That just sounds like an excuse, man. I can see why Maren’s pissed.”
“I know! You’re not helping, Dev.”
“Sorry, sorry… Did you call her?”
“No, she’s on her way to the airport. She’s going back to Seattle. I’m such a fucking idiot! I’ve lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
&nb
sp; “Dude, it’s not over. Just let her cool down… You’re coming home tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So, you track her down the second you get back. You two can work this out. Maybe have Darby vouch for you.”
“Nah, Maren doesn’t know Darby. Her word doesn’t mean anything.”
“Yeah, I guess not.” He paused. “Look, there’s nothing you can do right now but make things worse. Go somewhere and have a drink; try to calm down. Get a good night’s sleep and come home. You’re a good guy, Peter, she’s going to get over this.”
“And what if she doesn’t?”
“That’s not an option.”
“I can’t force her to be with me, dude. I can’t make her trust me. Hell, I wouldn’t trust me either after all this shit with Cara. She must think we’ve been hooking up for months.”
“I mean…I’m not gonna lie, I wondered the same myself.”
“Why?”
“Because you didn’t cut the cord.”
“But I did! After the whole Japan thing.”
“Yeah, but you obviously let her in again tonight. Or Maren wouldn’t have been pissed.”
My mind was whirling as I tried to process everything. I closed my eyes, gripping the bridge of my nose.
What a fucking disaster.
“Peter?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Go get a drink.”
“I don’t want to see my co-workers.”
“So, walk a few blocks. You’re in downtown San Fran; you’re bound to find a dive bar where nobody knows you. Go have a drink, calm yourself down. Maybe get something to eat. Then go to bed, dude. It’s the only solution. We’ll figure this out tomorrow, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man.”
“Hey, you’ve,” he paused, his voice dropping low, “you’ve helped me a lot. It’s the least I can do.”
After ending the call, I walked down the block, running my fingers through my hair as I tried to settle down and find a bar. Finally after several blocks, I found a dive. I walked in and smelled stale beer. The walls were dank and filled with neon bar lights from the ’80s. A long oak bar was lined with guys hunched over nursing their wounds.
Melt With Me: A With Me In Seattle Universe Novel Page 24
