Anti-Romance

by Cassia Leo

  I took a seat as George cleared the table. “Just a project he’s working on. He doesn’t want me to tell anyone about it. He’s kind of embarrassed.”

  George cocked an eyebrow as he took a seat across from me. “Embarrassed? Is he posing for nudes or something?”

  I laughed off this suggestion. “Of course not. It’s just a design project he doesn’t want anyone to know about yet. He promised he’d let me tell you all if it’s a success. If it’s not, I’m sworn to secrecy for the rest of my life.”

  I tried not to laugh as I remembered my conversation with Ivan. I thought he had been exaggerating the need for discretion. I still wasn’t one hundred percent certain he shouldn’t shout about it from the rooftops, but I respected his request for privacy. The truth was that Ivan had been contacted by a local author to help him create an adult coloring book, complete with curse words and depictions of sexual organs that would make Georgia O’Keeffe blush.

  “You’re sworn to secrecy? What happens if you let it slip?” George replied with a sheepish grin as he sliced off a piece of his gooey cinnamon roll with a plastic fork and knife.

  “If I break my promise, he gets to post the picture he took of me at Tanna’s birthday party last year on his Instagram. And you know he has a ton of followers because of all his clients.”

  The piece of cinnamon roll on the end of George’s fork dripped icing as it hovered just outside his mouth. “What picture is this, and why is this the first I’ve heard about it?”

  I shrugged as I chewed on one of my Cinnabon Stix. “You weren’t there.”

  He looked confused for a brief moment before comprehension dawned over his sharp features. “Oh, right. I was in Pittsburgh for a conference. I always miss the fun stuff.”

  “Speaking of conferences… How did you get time off to go to London? I thought you were almost maxed out on vacation time.” I tried to keep my tone casual, but my brain was screaming at me to ask George if he’d ever met Kade at work.

  He stared at his cinnamon roll as a sheepish expression came over his face. “I’m taking some unpaid leave.”

  I blinked at him in disbelief, opened my mouth to speak, then closed my mouth to prevent myself from saying anything harsh.

  “What? What were you going to say?” he pressed me.

  I shook my head. “All I’ll say is that this better be worth it. When we get back from London, you’d better be giving a victory speech on an aircraft carrier with a ‘mission accomplished’ banner behind you or I’m going to personally drop some shock and awe on your ass.”

  He smiled so wide I could see all his teeth. “That’s why I needed you here with me. Only you can keep my ass in line. I love the fuck out of you, Lane.”

  I rolled my eyes as I waved a pastry stick at him. “Yeah, well, I kinda like you, too.”

  * * *

  “This hotel looks like it’s fit for a king,” I remarked as the doorman opened the door for us to enter the Landmark London Hotel.

  “For a queen,” George corrected me as we stopped in the middle of a grand entry hall boasting ornate twenty-foot-high arched ceilings.

  We climbed a few marble steps and I drew in a deep breath of royal air as we approached the front desk. The blonde behind the reception desk wore a black blazer and a stiff smile.

  “Good evening, sir, and welcome to the Landmark London. Do you have a reservation with us this evening?” she said, addressing George.

  The feminist in me cringed at the way she had presumptuously dismissed me, but the little girl in me swooned as George took his rightful place at the counter to check us in. A vibrating sensation in my pocket startled me and I took a few steps away from the reception desk to check my messages. A sharp pang erupted in my chest when I saw that I had one text from Kade.

  I hadn’t heard from him since he threw me out of his apartment and I did the barefoot walk of shame back to my home with tears streaming down my face last week. I didn’t expect to hear from him after what I’d done to his family photos, but I couldn’t say I hadn’t hoped to hear from him. Hell, a part of me even wondered if my entire night with him had been a grand hallucination or very vivid dream. But here was the proof that it was very much real.

  I could unlock my phone and check this message now or I could tuck my phone into my pocket, go upstairs with my best friend, and probably have an even better night than the one I’d had with Kade. Well, I didn’t know if that was possible. Kade had set the bar pretty high. But we’d certainly give that Valentine’s date a run for its money.

  I sighed as I glanced in George’s direction and he winked at me. I had to accept the fact that I was incapable of having a normal romantic relationship. Maybe part of that was because I had been the axe murderer of romance for so many years, as Kade had implied. Or maybe it was just that I had been approaching romantic relationships from the wrong angle this whole time. Maybe pursuing a man, or being pursued by a man, wasn’t the best way for love to happen. Maybe love really did arrive when you least expected it, like when your best friend kisses you the way you’ve never been kissed.

  I slid my phone into my pocket and headed back to the reception desk, where I gently clasped my hand around George’s elbow. “George, dear. Is the room ready?” I asked in my best haughty accent.

  “Yes, darling,” he replied, turning back to the girl behind the counter with a sober expression. “The extra bed in the room is just in case we break the first one, if you know what I mean.” He winked at the girl and she tried not to laugh.

  She handed George the card keys. “Breakfast is served in the gazebo at eight a.m., which is closed Saturday and open for champagne brunch Sunday. Reservations are highly recommended. Afternoon tea is at three p.m. weekdays and 1:30 p.m. weekends. You’ll find information about our world-class spa and health club in your room. Do you have any questions for me?”

  “No, thank you, madame. A good evening to you,” George replied.

  The girl smiled. “To you, as well. Please feel free to call the front desk should you need anything at all. Enjoy your stay, sir.”

  “We’re going to break the bed, are we?” I muttered out of the corner of my mouth as the bellhop rolled our trolley of luggage ahead of us.

  “That will give her a nice visual and something to gossip about tonight,” he replied. “For the record, I did get us a family room with two beds. I promise I’ll be good.”

  That sharp pain in my chest returned, but this time it was due to a distinct sense of rejection. George and I had shared a bed plenty of times over the course of our friendship. If he specifically requested a room with two beds, that meant he didn’t want to sleep with me—probably because he was here to battle his demons, not create more of them—or because he didn’t trust himself to share a bed with me. As much as it pained me to admit it to myself, the first possibility was much more likely.

  We entered the room and I stared at the two beds with their sage and cream linens for a moment, lost in thought. Why did it bother me so much that we were sleeping in separate beds?

  The phone on the nightstand rang and I quickly went to answer it, welcome for the distraction. “Hello?”

  I recognized the smooth voice on the other end as the blonde who checked us in. “Sorry to bother you. I just realized there was a note on your reservation for the Presley-Greer wedding. They checked in earlier and asked us to remind all wedding guests that the rehearsal dinner begins tomorrow afternoon at four p.m. in the Empire Room.”

  “They… They checked in here?”

  “Yes, of course,” she replied, as if I should have known.

  I hung up the phone as my vision blurred with rage and slowly turned to George. “You lied to me!”

  George looked genuinely confused by my accusation. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, don’t play coy with me. Where is the wedding taking place?”

  His gaze dropped as he ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re making a bigger deal of this than is warranted. I
had to book the room here to get the discount. As it is, this trip is already costing me more than I can…”

  “Afford?” I said, finishing his sentence. “Why can’t you say the word? Is it because you don’t want to admit the dirty truth that your demon ex-girlfriend left you for someone with money coming out of his eyeballs?”

  He shot me a glare so fierce I was surprised I didn’t explode into a cloud of dust. “She didn’t leave me for him and she certainly didn’t leave me because of my money, or lack thereof. The dirty truth is that not even you know why Erika and I broke up.”

  He might as well have kicked me in the chest. It would have hurt less than this insinuation that he hasn’t been honest with me. No, that wasn’t what he was insinuating. He was suggesting that he couldn’t be honest with me, that I hadn’t earned the truth. That I wasn’t a good enough friend.

  I blinked at the tears stinging my eyes. “You lied to me then and you lied to me now,” I said, my voice thick with emotion.

  He shook his head as his expression softened. “No, I didn’t lie to you. I just left out some of the truth.”

  “Which part did you leave out?”

  He sighed as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. “I can’t talk about it. I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone.” He looked up at me, a silent plea in his blue eyes. “But it had nothing to do with money. And I’m sorry I lied to you about the room. I just really needed you here with me. Besides, it’s not as if we’re going to be hanging out with them in the hotel bar. We’re not even going to the rehearsal dinner. I just want to go to the ceremony, give them both my congratulations, and put this all behind me. I…I wish I could tell you why I need this, but I…I can’t. But…sit down, please,” he said, patting the mattress.

  I took a seat a couple feet away from him and he scooted toward me to bridge the divide. “Why do I feel like you’re choosing her over me? I feel like I’m going crazy. I know this isn’t a competition, but Jesus, George, I’m your best friend. Don’t I deserve the truth?”

  “You do, but that doesn’t change the fact that this isn’t my secret to tell. And it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not in love with her.” He reached up and used the soft pad of his thumb to brush a tear off my cheek. “And it certainly doesn’t change the fact that you’re my best friend. And if there were one person in this fucked-up world I could trust with a secret, it would be you. This isn’t a competition, Lane. You can’t compete in a race you’ve already won.”

  I rolled my eyes as I tried to suppress a smile. “You think I’m falling for a corny line like that? Then you’re absolutely right.”

  He smiled as he pulled me into his arms. I relaxed into him as he held me close, breathing in his scent, savoring the heat radiating off his shoulder, warming my cheek. Sometimes, all a person needs is to be held and told that they are special.

  You’re pretty fucking special, Laney Hill.

  I physically flinched as Kade’s words echoed in my mind. Pushing George away, I quickly stood from the bed. “I’m hungry,” I declared. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

  He looked somewhat confused by my rebuff. “It’s almost midnight.”

  I moved toward the maple dresser and opened the cabinet door to expose the minibar. “No prob. I’ll just have some…Maltesers? What the fuck are Maltesers? Small dogs that tease you with their long, luxurious hair?” I flipped my hair dramatically and barked at George.

  He laughed as he shook his head. “What else do they have in there?” he said, getting up from the bed.

  I breathed a sigh of relief as I moved aside for George to look inside the minibar. I mentally swiped my hand across my brow. Phew! Crisis averted.

  * * *

  I was glad to be the first person awake when my phone’s alarm went off at eight a.m. London time. Seemed George had forgotten to change the timezone on his phone. After rummaging around as quietly as I could, I realized I had forgotten to pack clean underwear. I sneaked into the bathroom to take a shower and brush my teeth. When I stepped out of the bathroom, George was standing in front of me in nothing but an eyebrow-raising pair of boxer briefs covered in Texas flags.

  “Ahem.” I cleared my throat as I nodded toward his underwear while trying not to ogle his abs. When did George get six-pack abs? “Feeling patriotic, are we?” I teased him.

  He grinned as he brushed past me on his way into the bathroom. “Just be glad I didn’t wake up with my flag flying at full staff.”

  George and I had a delightful breakfast in the hotel gazebo, which was the same thing we Americans would call an atrium, a large open space flooded with natural light from a glass roof. I could get used to having breakfast there for the next few days. Then George whisked me away to see Guys and Dolls at the Savoy Theatre. When traffic came to a standstill in central London, we hopped out of our cab, bypassing the black taxicabs that were busy protesting Uber, and made our way to the nearest Underground station.

  A full day of sightseeing followed, and London was as magical and majestic as I had imagined. From the masterpieces on display at The National Gallery to the eye-popping color of the gardens at Buckingham Palace, I crisscrossed the city hand in hand with George, awash in the crisp February air and in an absolute state of royal enchantment.

  By the time we entered the warmth of a small pub near the hotel, I was flushed and giddy and ready to guzzle down my first hot toddy. But the moment we took our seats on a couple of stools at the bar, both George and I froze at the sight of Erika Greer and her gaggle of girls, all of them shrieking with laughter and sporting pink T-shirts bearing their matrimonial titles: blushing bride, maid of honor, bridesmaid, etc.

  “We should leave,” I whispered, as if Erika could hear us from their table twenty feet away.

  I watched George intently, searching for any sign that he was uncomfortable in Erika’s presence. He seemed to be thinking, calmly processing the situation.

  Letting out a soft chuckle, he looked me in the eye as he reached for my face. “Your cheeks are cold. I’m getting you a hot toddy, young lady.”

  I bit my lip as I gazed into his blue eyes. I didn’t need a damn drink to heat me up when I had the warmest soul I’d ever known sitting right next to me. Why couldn’t I just say those words aloud? What was I still so afraid of?

  One hot toddy and two shots of Irish whiskey later, I wasn’t warm. I was hot enough to scorch a hole in the earth. George laughed as I begged him to help me unfasten the toggles on the bulky wool coat I’d bought especially for the trip.

  I was born and raised in Austin, Texas. On the rare occasion where we got a day or two of snow in the winter, it was not enough to make snow angels. Parkas and snow boots were about as common in Austin as a highway with no traffic. Whereas, traffic was as common as finding yourself in line at a coffee shop behind an impatient recent transplant complaining about how all the tourists in town for SXSW were ruining their lives.

  As I slipped my arms out of my coat, it was like stepping out of an oven and into a fresh summer breeze. “Ahhhhhhh,” I sighed, closing my eyes and tilting my head back to savor the cool air on my bare arms and neck. “That feels divine.” When I opened my eyes, I found George biting his lip with his gaze locked on my chest. “Hey,” I said, my voice a bit strangled by the tension in my throat.

  His eyes snapped up to meet mine and he shook his head slightly as if he were coming out of a daze. “Sorry,” he said, smiling as he took one more glance at my chest. “Too much whiskey, I guess.”

  Suddenly, my skin was aflame again. “Maybe we should—”

  “George?”

  The voice behind me was huskier than I remembered it being. When I turned around, the smile and the pleasant look of surprise on Erika’s face were not at all what I expected. Actually, now that she was right in front of me instead of twenty feet away, I could see that it wasn’t just her voice that had gotten huskier. Either she was in her second trimester or she’d had a dozen too many English beers tonight. I wouldn’t know s
ince I had been refusing to look in her direction since we arrived an hour ago.

  “Erika,” George replied, a sudden refined lilt to his voice. Maybe they were both putting on airs for each other. “So good to see you. Thank you for the invite.”

  She seemed a bit perplexed. “Your mother didn’t think you’d come. Seems she was wrong.”

  “Well, you know her. Thinks she knows what’s best for everyone.”

  One side of her mouth turned up in an almost smile. “Yeah, I remember that very well. Who’s this?” she said, stepping around me so she could see who I was. “Laney? Oh, my God. You look great. You two came together?” She turned to George, her head tilted inquisitively. “Are you two…?”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but George beat me to it.

  “Yes,” he said, risking one more glance at my boobs before he grabbed my hand. “We’re here together.”

  I tried to keep my surprise from manifesting on my face as Erika looked to me for confirmation. “Yep,” I said. “We’re…sharing a room. And…sharing underwear.” I pulled up my camisole to show her the waistband of the clean boxer briefs George let me borrow this morning, the ones covered in cartoon bananas.

  Oh, God.

  I turned to George, my eyes wide with horror as I tried to silently communicate my apology for being such an idiot. George’s shoulders bounced and he hung his head as he tried to hide his laughter.

  I turned back to Erika. “I’m drunk,” I whispered.

  When I turned back to George, I opened my mouth to apologize, only for him to shut me up once again. Without warning, he took my face in his hands and kissed me as if we were the only two people in the room.

  I gently pushed him away and touched my fingertips to my scorched lips.

  George licked his lips and cocked an eyebrow. “You taste just the right amount of drunk.”