“Drew…”
“It’s okay. I get it. Things just sort of spiraled out of control and there’s too many people in this relationship for it to really work.”
And it killed him to admit it–mainly because he didn’t mean it. He just knew that pressuring Chelsea wasn’t going to get him anywhere and he couldn’t keep having this same argument for her. She was stubborn–more stubborn than he realized–and it wasn’t fair for him to keep pushing her to change just to please him.
No matter how much he wanted to.
So he’d make the sacrifice.
“You have no idea how much I wish things were different,” she said, and he heard the slight tremble in her voice.
“It can be,” he replied miserably. “But I’m not going to push.”
She sighed again. “If I asked you to stop being friends with Jimmy, would you?”
Damn. “I honestly don’t know. I don’t think it has to come to that.”
“Really? So you’re saying when this ridiculous wedding actually does go down, and you’re asked to be a best man or something, you’d turn him down because I won’t go?”
“I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves here…”
“Drew, I’ve spent a lot of years not feeling good about myself and I realized that was largely because of the people I surrounded myself with. These last few weeks really opened my eyes to that. I may not be out socializing much, but my mental state is so much better. I actually like myself for the first time in years!”
And that was really it.
That was why he couldn’t push on this.
No matter how much he maneuvered them so she didn’t have to be around any of their–well, his–friends, they were still going to be there on some level. How could he ask her to sacrifice her mental health for him?
Bottom line, he couldn’t.
She deserved to be happy.
Even if it wasn’t with him.
“You’re right.”
“What?”
“You’re right, Chels. You deserve to be happy and it’s time for you to realize just how amazing you are. You don’t need to keep walking on eggshells because of the people we know so…take care of yourself.”
She was quiet for several moments and he heard her soft sniffle and it just about gutted him. Finally, she said, “Yeah, you too.”
And then she was gone.
Drew wanted to be pissed–knew he should be. If it weren’t for their damn friends, who knows where he and Chelsea would be now? But other than going back to O’Dwyer’s and punching Jimmy and yelling at Bianca, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do.
He was getting pretty tired of feeling helpless where Chelsea was concerned.
But it looked like that’s the way it was destined to be.
17
“Dammit.” Muttering another more colorful curse, Chelsea looked at the manuscript again and offered a weak smile to her producer. “Sorry, Janelle. I feel like I can’t get the words out today.”
Or for the last two weeks.
Whatever.
“It’s okay, Chelsea. You want to take a break and maybe have a cup of tea or something?”
“Yeah, that would be…” There was a loud ruckus coming from outside the studio and she and Janelle looked at each other with curiosity.
The door flew open just as someone yelled, “You can’t go in there!” and Chelsea was sure her jaw hit the ground when Bianca breezed in.
Oh, for fuck’s sake…
Luckily Chelsea and Janelle had worked together for years, and even though she had never met Bianca, Janelle knew about her.
And her theatrics.
Standing, she came over to Chelsea, looking mildly amused. “Want me to stay?”
Ugh…do I?
“It’s okay but…don’t go far.”
“Gotcha.” And with a small pat on the back, Janelle grabbed her coffee cup and walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar.
“It’s a lot smaller in here than I thought it would be,” Bianca said, her nose slightly wrinkled.
“It’s normally only a person or two reading so we don’t need more space.” Rubbing her temples, she asked, “What are you doing here, Bee?”
Rather than answer right away, Bianca circled the room until she stopped in front of Chelsea’s stool and manuscript stand. Leaning forward, she looked like she was reading it, but considering it was a history book about the Civil War, she doubted she’d read more than a few lines.
“Oh, my God is that boring! Ugh…how do you stand it!”
“Did you just decide to stop by to mock my job? Because if you did, you can leave now or I can have security come and escort you. Your choice.”
Straightening, Bianca stared at her, completely dumbfounded.
Probably because other than their last conversation in Bluffton, Chelsea had never stood up to her.
Kind of loving my inner tough girl…Roar!
She expected a snarky comeback or–at the very least–a putdown. Instead, Bianca moved away from the script and looked a little…regretful.
Well, this is new…
With her hands in front of her, clutching her Coach purse, she said, “I’m sorry. That was disrespectful of me. You know I’m not a history buff or…you know…whatever you want to call it, but that doesn’t mean that you or other people don’t find it interesting.” She met Chelsea’s gaze solemnly. “You’re very good at what you do and obviously you’re in demand so, what do I know, right?”
It was like being in an alternate universe and she had no idea how to respond.
“I’m here because…well…I owe you more than that apology. I probably owe you dozens.”
Or thousands…
Letting out a long breath, Bianca continued. “What happened in Bluffton really opened my eyes, and honestly, I didn’t like what I saw.”
Join the club.
“I didn’t realize just how out of control I had gotten and when Jimmy said he didn’t want to marry me, I fell apart.” She started to walk around the room, but Chelsea stayed where she was, curious to see where all this was going.
“I blamed you, I blamed Drew, I blamed everyone, and Jimmy told me the only one to blame was me,” she explained. “When I got home and told my parents about what happened, they weren’t sympathetic like I expected them to be. They were totally on your side and boy, did I get an earful from them.”
Chelsea had to smile because she knew that had to be a wild conversation.
“We’re in counseling now,” she went on. “It was supposed to be like a group thing, but the counselor listened to us talk that first night for all of five minutes before he suggested doing it one-on-one.” She sighed. “I was mortified. All of a sudden, it wasn’t just my friends and family seeing how crazy I was, but total strangers.” She shuddered.
“And is it helping?” Chelsea couldn’t help but ask.
“It is. I’ve learned how I…well…how much I mistreat people. Especially you,” she said sadly. “And not just recently, but for years. You were the one person who made me feel good about myself mainly because…um…because you made me look good.”
Don’t punch her…don’t punch her…
“Next to you, I always felt like the pretty one and you were the smart one. And then I used you to help me with school. I don’t know how you put up with me!”
There was no way to answer that right now, so Chelsea simply crossed her arms over her chest and waited for whatever verbal assault was coming next.
“Here’s the thing, Chels. I know I’ve been horrible to you and you have every right to hate me. I don’t blame you for it. I can apologize until I’m blue in the face, but it can never make up for all the things I’ve said and done.”
All she could do was nod.
“But don’t take this out on Drew.”
Say what now?
“He’s been miserable ever since you took off. He’s not himself. Whenever he comes out, you can tell his heart�
�s not into it and then he ends up leaving early. Jimmy says he’s never seen him like this.”
“Maybe he’s just busy with work or he’s sick,” she said with a shrug. “It probably doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
“Oh, please. He talks about you all the time. He finds a way to mention your name in every conversation we have with him.” Her shoulders sagged. “You really need to give him another chance.”
“Why do you even care?” And yes, she couldn’t help the slightly sardonic tone. “Do you miss having someone standing around to make you look good? Or do you need someone to constantly put down to make you feel good? Well, forget it! I’m done with that!”
“Chels…”
Dropping her arms, she took a step toward her former friend. “No, I’m serious! I’ve had enough of your attitude and all your demands! You’re exhausting! It’s like you never grew up and I need to be around people who make me feel good, who make me happy, and that’s not you! Or Kendall. Or Shauna. Or Jimmy. Or…”
“Drew?”
“We’ll never know, will we?” she asked with disgust. “You made sure you poisoned both our opinions of each other for the last year and…and thanks to you, everything’s awkward and ruined!”
“I’m really sorry, Chelsea!”
“Oh, shut up! Save your phony apologies! I’m not buying them.”
Gasping, Bianca’s eyes went wide. “How dare you accuse me of making a fauxpology! I am being totally sincere!”
Chelsea almost laughed at the reference–remembered how she explained it to Drew not so long ago.
“Can’t help it. I know you too well. You never mean your apologies. Ever. Why would I believe you now?”
Stomping her foot, Bianca growled with frustration. “What is it you want me to do here, Chels? Like I said, I get it, you hate me! I’m not asking you not to. But I am asking you to give Drew another chance! Please!”
It would be pointless to try to explain how she was the problem because Bianca–being Bianca–simply wouldn’t get it.
“Drew and I have already talked about this and decided it was for the best for whatever we had to just…end.”
And maybe someday her heart wouldn’t ache just thinking about it.
“You’ve ruined it,” Chelsea added. “You and your selfish ways ruined what could have been a great relationship for me. Drew could have been the one, but thanks to you, it’s over! So you don’t have to worry about any competition. No other couple will beat you and Jimmy to the altar, and no other couple will be more sickeningly in love than the two of you. So just…just go. Go away and leave me alone.”
Turning her back on Bianca, she walked over to her script and tried to calm down.
“I can’t believe you’re going to throw away a great guy just to be spiteful to me,” Bianca said, and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Oh, it’s on, bitch…
“Here’s a newsflash, Bee. Everything isn’t about you!”
“But you just said…”
“Yeah, I know what I said!” Dammit. I did sort of imply… “You’re the reason things are awkward! You’re the reason everything bad in my life happens! But I did not end things with Drew just to spite you, you self-centered twit!”
And cue the dramatic gasp…
Gasping, Bianca’s eyes went wide again. “Self-centered…”
“Twit! Idiot! Bitch!”
Okay, slow your roll, potty mouth…
“One of the reasons I don’t want to be with Drew is because I don’t want to be around you! I don’t want to hear any more of your boring stories about your hair or your nails or your shopping! Most of the time, you look like a drag queen, not a supermodel!”
“Hey!”
“You’re plastic and phony and you know what? Drew was right! You are like Malibu Barbie!”
“What?!”
“And you know that duck face you make when you take selfies? We all make fun of them! No one makes that face anymore! Especially at this age! You’re not twenty-one anymore! We’re almost thirty! Stop doing it!”
“I don’t…”
“You do. All the time. And it’s pathetic. Do you even know how to take a picture of somebody else? Even the Kardashians post pictures of scenery or their kids, for crying out loud! You should try it sometime.”
“I posted a picture of Mrs. Fluffykins last week!”
“And you were holding her up and making that stupid duckface. I think the cat was even embarrassed for you.” Her heart was racing, her throat was dry, and yet she felt invigorated. “Does Jimmy even know what you look like without makeup? Does he know those aren’t your real boobs?”
Bianca’s hands immediately covered her breasts.
“Or your real nose!”
“Chelsea!” One hand flew to her nose. “You know that was because of my deviated septum!”
“Was it?” she asked sarcastically. “Because I remember you telling that to people so they wouldn’t know it was plastic surgery.”
“Okay, you’ve made your point!” Bianca cried tearfully. “Did it make you feel better to put me down?”
Chelsea walked across the room until they were practically toe to toe. “No, because I’m not like you. Putting you down doesn’t lift me up.” Then she paused. “But it did help to finally get all those things off my chest.”
“So, you do feel better.”
With a careless shrug, she nodded. “I guess I do. The difference here is that I said it all in the heat of the moment while we were fighting, not just because it’s a day ending in -y. What’s your excuse for years of being a bitch?”
They stood there staring at each other for several minutes before Janelle walked back in. “Everything okay?”
Chelsea arched a brow at Bianca before responding. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. We’re done.” She looked toward Janelle. “You ready to start up again?”
Bianca took a step back. And then another. She was practically out the door before she turned around one last time. “Drew misses you. He’s a good guy and he genuinely cares about you. Just…think about it.”
Refusing to let that thought take hold, she walked over and closed the studio door, and with a smile on her face, she said, “Okay, let’s take it from the top again.”
The paper in his hand was now damp and wrinkled from his holding it for so damn long, but Drew felt like maybe holding on to it was the answer to all his problems.
Or maybe he was just kidding himself and had become completely delusional.
Probably a little from column A and a little from column B.
Bianca had shown up at his office earlier and handed him a paper with the address of the studio Chelsea was currently recording at. She had urged him–in a very reasonable and very un-Bianca-like way–to go after Chelsea and convince her to give them a chance. When he had asked her why, she very meekly said, “Because Chelsea deserves to be happy. And I know you’re the man who can make that happen.”
Which had left him speechless.
He had almost called Jimmy to see if his fiancée had fallen and hit her head or something, but for some reason, he believed her. The problem wasn’t finding Chelsea. The problem was convincing her without being too pushy. He swore he’d back off and he had, but…it wasn’t getting any easier. He still missed her and he still believed they deserved a chance.
Still…would she appreciate him just showing up at the studio and interrupting her recording? She was there to work–to read and narrate and whatnot. Showing up there would probably not go over well with her author or producer or whoever it was she was working with.
How the hell does that whole process work anyway?
Putting the paper down and telling himself it was hopeless, Drew leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. He stared at the walls for several minutes when the idea came to him.
It was perfect.
It was brilliant.
Booting up his laptop, Drew spent the better part of an hour
clearing his schedule and doing everything he could to implement all aspects of his plan. By the time he was done and striding out of his office, he felt energized.
Out in his car, he contemplated his options. Driving would enable him to have his car, but taking the train was definitely faster. So he drove to the station in St. James and parked. He’d be in Manhattan in a little less than two hours, and with any luck, it would only take him fifteen minutes to get to Chelsea.
Okay, that last part was completely unrealistic. It was Manhattan, after all. If a city could have a middle name, Manhattan’s would be traffic jam.
During the entire train ride, he did the best he could to distract himself–he checked emails, read a couple of news stories on his phone, played some solitaire–but as soon as the train pulled into Penn Station, he was full of nerves.
Was this really the right thing to do?
Was he pushing too hard?
But rather than staying in his head too long, he joined the throngs of commuters and did his best to get up to the street while using his Uber app on his phone. It took close to seven minutes for a car to arrive, but once it did, Drew knew he had to do this–had to make things right. And if this didn’t work, then…well…then he’d have no choice but to let things go and move on.
He’d hate it, but he’d do it.
The ride took almost fifteen minutes and he probably could have walked in it five, but again, he didn’t focus on it and instead hopped out and sprinted into the building. It took a minute to get his bearings, but he hopped on the elevator and rode it to the fourth floor where the studio was. When he stepped out, he was met with a wall of total silence. The lobby area was empty and when he walked through the glass doors and over to the receptionist, he realized the only sound was his breathing.
Okay, this is awkward.
“Hey,” he said, still a little breathless from the sprint. “I’m Drew Russo and I’m wondering if you could help me.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
Something in her stiff tone alerted him.
Clearing his throat, he said, “Um…no. Like I said, I’m…”
“I know who you are. Chelsea mentioned you.” Then she made a face like she was smelling some bad fish.
Wrong Turn: Road Tripping Series Page 20
