The Last Rule of Makeups (Breakup Bash)

by Nina Crespo

  She met his gaze. Relief in seeing some of the coolness leave his eyes allowed her to breathe a tad easier. “I knew you’d want to support me. That was exactly why I didn’t tell you. You’d talked so much about how excited you were for us to be together in Texas, and you even said once that you couldn’t imagine going without me. I was afraid that if you found out why I had to stay behind, you wouldn’t go. I didn’t want you to give up your future because of me. Maybe that was a foolish assumption on my part, but I just wanted the best for you.”

  He looked up to the ceiling for a moment and shut his eyes. “No wonder your dad is upset with me. He thinks I left you when you needed me the most. Why did you tell him that?”

  “Dad got a bad infection after the surgery. Some of the meds he had to take made him depressed. He said he felt like he was a burden on me and Mom. When the topic of you came up, I thought the shortest answer was best, so as not to upset him. I told him you’d moved to Austin, and he just assumed you’d broken up with me. I let it go because I never thought I’d see you again.”

  “And your mom, what does she think happened?”

  “I think Mom was just focusing on making sure Dad got better. I don’t know that she really thought about it.”

  Grey’s scrutiny drove Cori’s gaze away from him. Making Grey the bad guy hadn’t been part of the plan.

  He lightly gripped her shoulders, prompting her to look at him. “I get it, but you still should have told me. Staying or leaving without you was my choice to make. Instead, you made me feel as if I’d misread you, that I’d been wrong about what you’d wanted all those years that we were together. That I was the only one who saw us having a future together. And today, at the engagement party, I walked into that room believing I was welcome. How do you think I feel, now, knowing your father views me as the guy who walked out on you?”

  Sadness clogged her throat. “I’m sorry. Like I said, I never thought we’d be together again. And if I would have known my father felt that way about you, I would have straightened things out before we went to the party.” All of her excuses hit her as lame ones, especially when she looked into Grey’s eyes. “Can you forgive me?”

  “I already forgave you for what I thought happened back then. But this…” Grey dropped his hands from her shoulders. “I need a minute.”

  …

  “Look, dude, if you’re not up to helping me do this tonight, just say so.” Damien sat next to Grey at a high counter in his soundproof practice room with their laptops in front of them.

  Damien adjusted his thick, black-rimmed glasses that were more for show than function as he used a software program to search for original DJ mixes. Years ago, some girl in college had told him that he looked like Clark Kent. He’d been pulling off the geek to superhero look and landing women with it ever since.

  Grey sat back in the chair. Helping search through new music for Damien’s upcoming trip to London was supposed to take his mind off of what happened with Cori earlier that afternoon. Instead, his concentration was off. “I’m good.”

  “You’re not. Something’s up. What is it?”

  “I just have a lot of shit on my mind.”

  Damien chuckled. “You mean Cori is on your mind. Is the reunion hookup not working out?”

  Grey gave into massaging his temples that had started throbbing right after he’d left Cori. “I thought it was until today.” He filled Damien in on what Cori’s father said at the engagement party that afternoon along with what Cori had told him afterward about her father being sick and why she hadn’t gone to Austin.

  “Wow.” Damien adjusted his glasses. “If that’s what her pops thinks about you, I’m surprised he didn’t kick your ass out of the party.”

  “Thanks for bringing that up. It really helps.”

  “I’m just being honest. But it says a lot that he just gave you a warning and didn’t tell you to stay away from her. As far as the rest, it is a lot to take in, but maybe more for you because you don’t have the same kind of relationship that Cori has with your parents.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” A memory that Grey hadn’t thought of in a long time had come to him on the drive from Cori’s to Damien’s. “My parents were in a bad accident when I’d just started college. The only reason I found out about it was because I’d decided to go home for the weekend. My mom was in bed recovering from bruises and a fractured arm. My dad had a bandage on his head and was hobbling around with a cane because he had a bruised knee. I confronted him about why they hadn’t called me, and you know what he said? I didn’t need to know because my priorities were graduating and joining Latham Reeves.”

  Funny how things worked out. He’d never thought, in a million years back then, that he’d ever work for his father.

  Damien gave him a look as if he was thinking the same thing. Before Damien had arrived in Maryland, Grey had told him how he’d lost something after Liam’s death and didn’t think he could get it back. Damien hadn’t tried to talk him out of what he was thinking. But asking for help with his set when he actually didn’t need it was probably Damien’s way of trying to get him to think twice.

  “Your dad is pretty hard core. Maybe that’s why…” Damien shook his head. “Never mind.”

  “No. Finish it. What were you going to say?”

  “I’m not trying to be your psychologist, but maybe one of the reasons this whole situation with Cori is getting under your skin so bad is because of what you just mentioned. Think about it. You not only cared about her, but you felt close to her parents. You not knowing her dad was sick because she felt your focus needed to be elsewhere, and then stumbling into finding out, kinda mirrors what your parents did to you after their accident.”

  “All right, Doc, if that’s the case, what am I supposed to do about it?”

  “Look at it from all sides.” Damien gave a half smile as he focused on the screen of his own laptop. “Especially the one where you still want to be with Cori. Do you really want to spend time being pissed off about the past or would you rather get back to what you were doing with her before all this came up?”

  Well…damn. Damien could have a point.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cori reviewed the first batch of candidate interview debrief surveys from the investors on the wide-screen computer sitting on her wood desk. Thank goodness they weren’t at this stage three months ago when the computer glitch happened. Trying to tabulate the survey scores without the new upgraded software would have turned her day into the longest Monday of her life. At the moment, things were running smoothly.

  The projects catching most of the attention from the investors were in the areas of AI, financial tech, food and beverage, health care, IoT, e-commerce, and transportation. The proposal she’d read for an online shop featuring one-of-a-kind clothing made by fashion design students had been interesting to her, but the investors thought the concept still needed work on the distribution end and she agreed. But she’d also come across an e-commerce proposal that also hadn’t been selected for being unfocused. Were the two proposals actually better together? She made a note to put the candidates who’d submitted the proposals in touch with each other. If they came up with something together, they could submit a new proposal to the Carver Fund in the future.

  When she’d been in Costa Rica helping the women in the collective, she’d worked on the distribution component of the project. The advisors to her and the rest of the students helping the collective had encouraged them to find synergistic connections and not be afraid to explore their ideas. It had been so rewarding to be part of the hands-on process.

  Before she’d graduated, she’d actually written out a business proposal for a class she was in, using the collective in Costa Rica as a basis. She’d been disappointed about the B grade she’d received on it, but the notes for improvement that her professor had written in the margins had intrigued her. Grey
had encouraged her to rewrite the proposal for herself using the helpful comments, but she’d been too busy with other classwork and hadn’t gotten around to it.

  It was funny how Grey remembered Costa Rica and the collective after all these years while she’d forgotten about it…along with letting her father believe that Grey had left her.

  It would have been easier if he’d have just gotten mad or even started an argument with her. Witnessing that disappointed look on his face in her kitchen and imagining what he was feeling was worse. After he’d said he needed a minute, Grey had kissed her on the forehead and said he’d call her. He hadn’t yet. What if he never did? Should she call him?

  No. You couldn’t force forgiveness, only wait for it. Cori took a sip from her ceramic red-topped coffee cup with “Step 1: Drink coffee, Step 2: Take Over the World” printed on it and was only rewarded with a few drops. She’d need a lot more than that if she was going to take over the world.

  She got up from the deep-brown padded leather chair and went to the small beverage station in the corner with a coffeemaker and a half-full carafe.

  Her cell phone buzzed face down on her desk.

  Maybe it was Grey? Apprehension and anticipation kicked up her heart rate as she set down her coffee mug and went back to her desk.

  She checked the screen. It was her mother.

  She’d meant to call her last night to see how her dad was feeling, but after Grey had left, she’d felt depleted, and her stomach was upset. After a long shower, she’d drank some chamomile tea and fallen asleep. But that wasn’t an excuse for not checking in to make sure her father was okay. Her mother could have been too busy with Dana to notice he looked tired. And he wouldn’t have said anything.

  Cori answered and sat back in the chair. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi. I know, you’re busy. I won’t keep you long.”

  “I’m taking a break so the timing’s good. How’s Dad?”

  “Fine. He spent the day helping a friend build his wife’s she-shed, which is funny because I’m still waiting for him to get around to building mine.”

  Her dad was doing what he loved, building things. That was a good sign. He wouldn’t be out and about if he wasn’t feeling well.

  Her mother continued. “Did you see the pictures and videos your cousin posted on Facebook from the party?”

  “No. I haven’t. Anything in particular I should see?”

  “No, nothing like that. Just some shots of you and Grey and ones of him getting everyone to dance. My feet are still aching from all the fun we had. If he hadn’t been there, I can’t imagine how that part of the afternoon would have turned out with just the other DJ.”

  “I’m sure it would have been fine, once he warmed up.” Cori hesitated in opening the internet browser on her computer. Did she really want to see her and Grey having a good time at the party, knowing what happened afterward? She hadn’t checked out her personal Facebook account in a while. Did she even know her password?

  “Well, it was better with Grey in attendance. I was wondering…”

  “No.” Cori pulled up Facebook and typed in her password, but it didn’t work.

  “I haven’t even asked my question.”

  “Mom, I know where this is going, and no, Grey isn’t available to DJ your upcoming anniversary party. He’s too busy, and he lives in Austin.” And even if he had planned on being around, he wasn’t speaking to her and probably wouldn’t want to be around her family, either.

  “I was going to ask if he knew of any good local DJs for the customer appreciation day my salon is throwing in a few weeks. And there won’t be any dancing at our anniversary. I’m planning a dress-up event this year with heavy hors d’oeuvres and a cake, and I’m hiring a caterer to do it. Why are you so touchy about his schedule? Are you upset about him leaving again? That’s understandable.”

  “There’s nothing to understand.”

  “Uh-huh.” Skepticism laced her mom’s tone. “I saw you two dancing together at the end of the party.”

  There was no winning this argument. Cori finally got her FB account open. “How’s Dana’s name listed on Facebook? Wait, maybe she tagged me.” Cori scrolled through her notifications. One leaped out. Kevin updated his relationship status? She shouldn’t care. She should have unfriended him months ago, but she just hadn’t thought about it or about updating her own status.

  She hovered the cursor over his name. Just a quick peek to see what he was up to wouldn’t hurt. But she also had a million-and-one reasons not to dive deeper, but one masochistic one prompted her to click. Words jumped out at her. They shouldn’t have hurt—hell, she was lucky to be rid of him. But still… “He didn’t…”

  “He who?” her mom asked. “Are you talking about Grey?”

  “No, Kevin…” In the picture on the screen, he wore a tux, and he was laughing and hugging a pretty, brown-skinned woman around her age wearing a white form-fitting, silky long dress. “He’s married.”

  * * *

  Cori sat in bed, propped against the headboard.

  The chill from the frozen pint of ice cream she held faintly seeped through her thin fawn winter gloves. They were made for fashion, but they had grippy fingers so she could hold the equivalent of solid ice.

  She pulled up the sleeves of her lime oversize sweatshirt and dug into the frozen surface of the ice cream with a spoon, but it barely made a dent. That’s how she should have been a couple of hours ago after reading the news about Kevin getting married—dent proof with a Teflon heart. But after she’d assured her mom she was fine and hung up, she’d just held onto that piece of information and waited to go un-numb. For what seemed like endless minutes, she’d waited not to care about Kevin and his new wife. Because she shouldn’t. Right?

  Cori stabbed at the vanilla ice cream laced with fudge flakes. A tiny sliver of fudge landed on her bare thigh just below the hem of her lime shorts. She picked up the paper towel lying beside her and wiped it away. She wasn’t upset that Kevin was out of her life, but one sentence in the post irritated her like a paper cut—not a major injury, but too irritating to ignore. He’d only known his new wife for two months.

  According to his post, the barista at the coffee shop had called out their finished orders at the same time. They’d both misread the names on the cardboard cups, Kevin and Kenzie, and picked up the wrong drinks. His double espresso was too strong for her, and her latte wasn’t his thing, but as soon as they saw each other, they’d realized they were a perfect match.

  Barf, barf, barf.

  Someone rang the doorbell. Seconds later, it rang again.

  Was it her neighbor wanting to catch her up on the latest homeowner’s association scandal? If so, she had her own first world problems. She had to wait for her ice cream to melt before she could scarf it down.

  The person at the door switched to ringing the doorbell and knocking.

  Ugh. Cori set her ice cream on top of the oven mitt on the bedside table next to the can of whipped cream and squeeze bottle of caramel. She stripped off one of her gloves, grabbed her home security computer tablet next to the lamp, and tapped the icon for the front door camera.

  Nat’s face filled the screen. No need to activate the audio. Cori could easily read her lips: Open the damn door.

  A few more taps on the tablet disengaged the lock.

  The door opened and closed. Seconds later, she heard Natalie rummaging in the kitchen.

  Was she grabbing wine? Cori huffed a breath, put her glove back on, and grabbed her ice cream. Yeah, priorities. She understood.

  Moments later, Nat stared at her from the bedroom doorway. She wasn’t carrying a wineglass or a bottle. Just a big metal spoon.

  Her hair was pulled in a ponytail, and she was after work casual in jeans and a plain white fitted tee. “It took you long enough. Your neighbor from across the street was trying to wave m
e down—probably so she could fill me in on the latest dog-poop investigation.”

  Nat kicked off her sandals, crawled next to Cori, and sat with her legs folded and crossed on the mattress. “Ever since she saw me over here with Betsy, I swear she thinks I’m running around the neighborhood with her, leaving presents all over your subdivision. We need to work on your junk food–buying skills. You’re out of ice cream, so we’re going to have to share that tiny thing. Hand it over.”

  “No.” Cori held it away from Nat.

  “Too cold?” Nat nodded in understanding. “Gotcha.” Spoon still in hand, she got up, walked into the bathroom, opened and shut a cabinet, and came out with a burgundy towel. “Place mat.”

  “That’s not a place mat. That’s one of my good towels.”

  Nat rolled her eyes as she sat back on the bed. “Please, girl, it’ll wash.” She tossed the towel in the small space between them.

  Cori fought frustration and lost. “Why are you here?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  From Nat’s raised brow, she’d caught the buzz of angry wasp in Cori’s tone. She flashed an indulgent smile. “Okay then, we’re dispensing with polite chitchat and getting right to the point. I like it.” Nat plucked the pint from Cori’s hand and set it on the towel. “I heard you found out something about Kevin, and it’s fucking up your Monday.”

  “Mom called you.”

  “Yep.”

  “She shouldn’t have. It isn’t a big deal, and it’s my business. If I wanted input, I would have called.”

  “Hold on a minute.” Nat stalled her with a raised spoon. “First of all, your mother loves you and knows you best. Second, she knows that you, me, and Alexa had similar shitty relationship experiences and probably realized you needed us but that you wouldn’t call like you should have. I’m sure Alexa would be here, too, but I couldn’t reach her. And considering how you look, it is a big thing. Stop pouting and tell me what happened. Your mom didn’t give me a lot of details.”