“Yes, I fucked her,” I say, grinding my jaw. Alison winces at the words tumbling out of my mouth. She gasps, as if shocked and angry all at once. I know it's not what she wanted to hear. Sometimes it's easier to accept a lie than the truth, but I'm sick of lies. I'm sick of the deceit.
“Why?” Tears breach the corners of her eyes and she quickly wipes them away with her hand.
“Alison, I was forced into our engagement. I never wanted any of it."
“But why do you want to be with her?” she cries. “She isn’t anyone important."
“You’re wrong, she’s everything to me.” And there it is, the frightening truth of my feelings for Rebecca. She fucking means absolutely everything to me. I was just too stupid to see it only hours ago. Now it's right there, in plain sight. I can't wrap my head around why I hadn't seen it before, but my brother would probably laugh his ass off right now if he were here. God, I miss him. Life seemed a lot simpler when I had him to go to for advice. He probably would've punched me if he knew I was engaged to Alison.
“So you’re in love with her?” Alison looks up at me with a cold disappointment.
“When I first met Rebecca I couldn’t get her out of my head. I thought I could move on if I had one night with her.”
“But it didn’t help, did it?” she says, practically spewing the words.
“No, it didn’t.”
Alison steps toward me with determination. She quickly grasps my hand and places it on her hip. The touch is unexpected and her lips catch me completely off-guard when she quickly presses them against mine. Before I can pull back, coldness overwhelms me. The sensation is a shock to my system, but I quickly recover, pushing back away from her. Anger vibrates off of Alison as I break the kiss, and her face distorts into a furious gaze. I would be lying if I said I felt anything for her. The warmth that I've become so accustomed to with Rebecca is completely absent with Alison.
"I don't want to continue with this facade anymore."
"But it isn't one for me," she says.
“I'm going to schedule a meeting with your father and mine this week."
“No, please don't do this."
"Don't make this any harder than it needs to be."
“We’re meant to be together.”
“Alison, I can’t marry you,” I say, practically yelling. The movers shuffling furniture across the way freeze as they overhear our heated conversation. Alison blushes in embarrassment, but she quickly recovers from the shock of my words. She looks down at her feet and then back up at me before turning on her heel. Relief washes over me as she tells the movers to pack up her shit and put it back into the truck. It takes them several hours, but they finally have all of Alison’s furniture back into the truck by eleven o'clock.
I sit on the steps in front of my apartment and wait for her to finish stuffing the rest of her items back into the Porsche. Despite my need to break off our engagement, I hate seeing her cry. She pulls her soft blonde hair from her ponytail and walks over to me. I bite the inside of my cheek at the sight of her puffy red eyes. Seeing any woman cry is like a punch in the gut.
“Nicholas, I just want to make you happy," she sniffles. It's not easy telling someone that they could never make you happy. It's a cold, hard truth, but some things just need to be said. False hope can eat you alive, and I don't want to leave Alison with a shred of it.
"You were a one-time thing for me. I never thought it would turn into this shit storm. Before we slept together, I told you that if this wasn't a one-time deal for you, then I would leave. I never wanted it to be more."
"But somehow everything is different with your assistant?"
"She's different," I say.
"She's nothing."
"Alison, leave." A streak of anger pricks at my nerves. "This mess will be all be over soon. If you won't convince your father to break the arrangement, then I'll tell mine that it's over."
"If you think that your father is just going to let you throw everything away over her, then you're wrong."
"It doesn’t matter. One way or another, it’s over.”
As I watch Alison get into her car and leave, I realize that this battle is just beginning; she won’t let this go without a fight. She didn’t give up on trying to buy Tristan’s painting when I met her, and she won’t give up on the idea of us being together. I know it hurt her pride to know that I’m choosing Rebecca over her, but she was never a viable option to me. She’s just a woman obsessed with getting what she wants at all costs, and I was stupid enough to sleep with her.
Saturday morning I wake to Nicholas’s name on my lips and the memory of his kiss imprinted on my skin. I turn in my bed, soaking up the feeling of it. I wish I could just lie here forever and bask in the memory of his touch, but life seems to get in the way of everything. I rise from my bed just in time to hear my phone buzzing from my nightstand. It vibrates twice before flashing red to let me know I have a text. I pick it up, hoping that it isn’t from Miles. That would be the last thing I need. Nicholas’s number flashes across my screen. I still haven’t saved the number on my phone, but I know it by memory now. My fingers linger above add new contact. I know it must be silly, but there's something symbolic about adding someone to your contacts. It might be better if I don’t add him. The disappointment might be easier to handle.
I can't stop thinking about you.
Xx
My breath catches at the sight of his text. I stare at the timestamp and it says it was sent only five minutes ago. Damn, it’s already 1 o’clock in the afternoon. Way to sleep the day away, Becca. I needed the rest, though. Last night was exhausting.
After telling Nicholas off about digging into my personal life, I finally agreed to let him stay so that we could talk. Everyone dreads having the talk, but the funny part is, we're not in a relationship. He's engaged, for fuck's sake. And yet, every time he's near me, it feels like we should be. It's like I'm fighting this inevitable pull that he has on me, and I can't seem to stay away.
My evening didn’t exactly end the way I thought it would. Seeing Miles standing in front of my apartment still feels like a really bad dream. The kind of dream where you wake up with an ache in your chest that you can't seem to shake off. Why did he have to come here? I should've punched him in the face instead of Scarlett. How could he ever think that I could forgive him? I didn’t know what to tell him, and there wasn’t really much I wanted to say to him. I wish Carol would’ve been there last night; she always has a way of knowing just what to do, although she might've just ended up decking him in the face, too. I should probably avoid telling her for a little while.
After several minutes of debating on whether I should get up or not, I finally manage to roll out of bed and exchange my wrinkled dress for my Garfield pajama bottoms and a regular shirt. Carol’s smiling face greets me as I open my bedroom door and I spot her hand mid-air as if she was just about to knock. She stands there looking flawless in her pencil skirt and matching blazer. It’s like her outfit came hot off the press. Unfortunately, she puts my disheveled appearance to shame. I’m pretty sure I still have dry slobber crusted to my face. Yum.
“Hi, girly, how’s it going?” Carol says, eyeing my frizzy hair. “Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?”
“No,” I laugh. “I just woke up and I haven't had a chance to fix my hair."
“You kind of have the whole Orphan Annie thing rocking,” she says, smiling. I would probably be hurt if I didn’t know she’s actually just teasing me.
"Carol, that is the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me,” I say, pretending like my feelings are hurt. I give her my sad puppy face, and she just starts laughing.
"It's cute. Maybe we can put little bows on your head and then it would be perfect."
"You're such a bitch.”
"Yeah, but you love me.”
“Where were you last night? I didn’t see you come home.”
Carol’s gaze slides over my face with a nervous smile.
“I was just going over some documents at the office. So anyway, I came in here to tell you that someone sent you some very pretty flowers. I put them in the kitchen."
"What?" I ask, confused. I’m not enthusiastic about Carol’s reluctance to answer my question, but the word flowers quickly steals my attention.
"Yeah, there's like two hundred roses… and they look expensive."
"From who?” I ask.
A slow, cheeky smile spreads across her lips and immediately, I know they're from him. Who else do I know that would send me flowers? No one. Miles certainly never sent me flowers, and I highly doubt they’re from Ken. Carol would’ve said something if they were. No, this is none other than the doing of Nicholas-fucking-StoneHaven. Carol stops me as I try to walk past her. “Now, who would buy you a roses I wonder?” Her tone is playful, but I know she’s genuinely intrigued by this sudden surprise. Just wait until I tell her about what happened at Riptide. She’ll never let up on teasing me about Nicholas.
“Don’t you have better places to be?” I ask. “Like work, maybe?”
“Ouch, kitty has claws. Weekends are off limits. I‘ve been trying my best not to work 7 days a week.”
“That’s good, I miss seeing you around here…Can I see who the roses are from now?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she says, waving a small white envelope. I know she can see the wheels spinning in my head. She doesn’t wait for my response as she turns on her heel and dashes down the hallway. Damn it.
The bright red colors of the flowers stop me in my tracks as I enter the kitchen. They’re beautiful – breathtakingly beautiful – and each one looks like it’s just been picked from an outside garden. The bushel of long-stemmed roses is sitting in a large vase on the kitchen counter. To most people, red roses are symbolic for romance, but I've learned that Nicholas has a subtle and yet not so subtle way of saying things. He picked red roses because of his new fascination with the color.
Carol walks around the kitchen and slides the giant vase toward me. I didn’t think they made vases big enough to fit 200 roses but apparently, they do. Carol waves the small white envelope that came with the roses in front of my face. Her taunts are working and the more she waves it front of me, the more I need to read it. I try to snatch it out of her grasp, but she’s too quick.
"I think I'll read it first," she says, taking a seat on one of her three barstools. My grumbles only encourage her to keep going.
"Let's see what your mystery man has to say," she says, wiggling her eyebrows. I watch as Carol grins at the message in the card. Her eyebrow quirks and she lets out a low, dramatic whistle. "Damn, Becca. Someone has it bad."
Desperate to see the note, I quickly grab the card and open it.
Becca,
I love waking up next to you.
Xx,
Nicholas
My cheeks burn. Fuck. Carol is going to think we slept together again.
“Was he here last night? Is something going on between you two that I didn’t already know?” she asks.
I need to come clean and tell her about the drama at Riptide last night. I’m sure she’ll be surprised to hear that he punched his own best friend in the face because of me. The memory of last night’s craziness hasn’t left me. I don’t think I’ve ever had such an eventful day from going on a date with Ken, to finding my ex fiancé waiting for me by my front door, and now this.
“Becca?”
Before I can answer, I sense something vibrate in the pocket of my pajama bottoms.
"It sounds like someone's calling you," Carol says, eyeing my pocket. I pull my cell phone out and Nicholas's number sits under my missed calls list. A warm rush of heat pools between my legs and I inwardly sigh at the thought of his body hovering over me. A familiar ache pulses through me. Just seeing his name makes me hot and bothered. I clear the missed call and close my phone.
"Is it him?"
"I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
"So it is?" she asks with a gleam in her eye. "Your boss seems to be calling you a lot lately. And now he’s sending you flowers after sex…"
“We did not have sex,” I argue.
“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”
"We didn’t. It’s just that a lot of stuff went down last night.”
Carol jumps off of the barstool and walks over to me. I could die of embarrassment at the pure excitement shining on her face.
"Spill," she commands.
“Well… I went on a date with your cousin and we went to Riptide.”
“Okay, weird, but go…Wait, does he even dance?”
“He does,” I laugh. “So the next thing I know Nicholas and his fiancée show up.”
“Uh oh.”
“Yes, which was fine. I was fine. Until Tristan showed up and he asked me to dance.” Carol’s eyes widen in confusion but I continue. The best part of the story is coming.
“Okay, and…”
“And then he kissed me,” I blurt.
“What. The. Fuck?”
The words fall out of my mouth in a sudden rush. “Yes, he full on kissed me and Nicholas saw him. Everything happened so fast and well, he punched Tristan in the face.”
“Wait, is Tristan interested in you now?”
“No, I’m under the impression he did it on purpose to make Nicholas mad.”
“Geez.” I watch as Carol deconstructs my words in her head. It takes what seems like a two good minutes before she can form words.
"Rebecca, can I ask you something?" She fiddles with her hands like she’s nervous about what she’s about to ask.
"You know you can.”
"Do you think he's...you know…in love with you?"
Now it's my turn to be speechless. Her words hit me like a bomb exploding inside my chest. My insides are torn by the idea of Nicholas and the word love being in the same sentence. In love with me? I take a moment to let her question settle inside of me. There is no way he could feel that way about me. I honestly don’t know if he could feel that way about anyone. As much as I would like to think that Nicholas is capable of it, it seems like he’s been a player most of his life. No, I’m convinced what he feels for me is fleeting. He’s just used to getting what he wants and I’m just another woman to chase.
"I ask because no one punches their best friend in the face over a girl they're going to toss the next day." Carol stares at me with a firm look. She knows what I’m thinking, but I can’t help but feel insecure about how Nicholas really feels about me. Sure, he’s intense when we’re together and he has no problem telling me that he loves to fuck me, but if he actually loves me… that’s a whole different monster.
"To be honest, sometimes I'm not sure what he's feeling."
"How do you feel about him?" Carol asks.
I've been so afraid of feeling any way about him. The last time I loved someone it didn’t end so well. I know I’m strong, but your heart can only take so much before you just lose yourself. Although there are times when I think maybe losing myself with him won't be so bad. I swallow the growing lump in my throat as Carol reaches over and squeezes my hand. I want to believe that everything will work out. That life will have some fairytale ending for me, but after everything that’s happened – fairytales just seem like bullshit now.
“Sometimes I feel like we’ve known each other for a long time, and other times I feel like I hardly know him at all,” I admit.
"I think it's safe to say, sometimes even knowing a little bit about someone has us falling.” Carol’s words are reassuring, but they still don’t take away the uncertainty that clouds my thoughts of a future with Nicholas.
“Since when did you get so wise?” I say, half smiling.
Carol laughs, wrapping her arms around my shoulder and giving me a quick squeeze. “I’ve always been wise.”
“The Carol I remember from college was always too busy getting banged by frat guys to remember to give me such sage advice.” I laugh at the memory of watching Caro
l chugging beers just to show that she could hang with the guys. She was a force to be reckoned with during college parties. I never had the balls to walk up to a guy and tell him to fuck me in the supply closet, but there were several times where I watched Carol do just that.
“So are you going to call him back?”
“I don’t really know if I should.” Maybe Nicholas was just calling about something work related for Monday.
"Of course you should,” Carol says.
“I can't just start a relationship with him."
"Becca, I think it's too late to pretend like there isn't something already there between you guys. Haven't you learned yet?"
"There is something there, but I refuse to be the woman on the side."
“Who says you would be?"
“I don't see him dumping his fiancée any time soon."
"Well maybe that's why he wants to talk to you."
Her words shake me. Nicholas breaking off his engagement with Alison would be a very big deal. I know Carol wants me to believe that he cares about me enough to do that, and it seems that Tristan wants me to believe it too, but breaking off his engagement would mean more than just not getting married. According to Tristan, it would mean losing his company and disappointing his family. I know now what family means to Nicholas. I’ve seen the pain in his eyes every time someone even mentions his late brother’s name. As much as I want to be with him, I could never ask him to give all of that up for me.
“I’m just going to ignore it,” I say.
Carol looks at me with a sadness that seeps into her smile. “Okay, Becca. Okay.”
Monday morning, I wake up feeling terrible. The building pressure behind my sinuses sends a throbbing pain across my forehead, temples, and behind my eye. After taking an extra twenty minutes just to get ready, I'm finally able to dash out of the apartment and head to work. At the office, I find Ken standing near my cubicle. He stares at the wall with a cup of coffee in one hand and the other nervously drumming against the top of his thigh. I don't think I've ever seen him so anxious, but I can guess that he's probably waiting to tell me off about this past Friday. I feel horrible for ditching him on our first date. I don't doubt that he saw me leave with Nicholas. As much as I was enjoying my time with Ken, it was probably stupid of me to accept his offer to go on a date. It also would've been really awkward with Carol. She didn't seem to jump for joy at the idea of me dating her cousin.
Bound to You: Volume 3 Page 3
