The Final Move

by Victoria Denault

  I am not that. I don’t want to be that. I will not be that. No. No. No.

  “Damn it, Devin!” I whisper to myself.

  I’m still exhausted and it’s still stupid early but I can’t sleep. Not with my heart hammering like this and my mind filled with images of riding him on the couch downstairs. I sigh and drag myself into the bathroom. Might as well go to work.

  An hour later, my assistant Sam walks into the office and looks startled to see me. “Hey! You’re here early!”

  “Couldn’t sleep,” I mutter as I sort through the wardrobe items for the next week of shooting.

  Sam’s great. He’s smart and quick and has an amazing sense of style, which is needed for this line of work. He’s also nosy and in my attempt to keep all of Devin’s secrets from my sisters, I’ve found myself confiding in him. He puts his stuff down on his desk and stares at me. “How was the party last night?”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine?”

  “Fine.”

  My phone starts to buzz. I walk over to where it’s lying on top of my desk. It’s Devin. I send it to voicemail and walk back over to the clothes racks. Sam’s got his eyebrow in the air now. “Something is not fine.”

  “Everything is fine,” I argue back.

  I have to tell someone and I can’t tell my sisters. They will lose their minds and tell their silly boyfriends and then this will become a big, huge deal. I am trying to avoid the big, huge deal.

  “I fucked Devin.”

  “Yes!” He literally starts to jump up and down and reaches out to high-five me. I stare at him and cross my arms over my chest. His face gets serious. “Was it horrible? Please do not tell me he is horrible in bed! I Googled him and he’s gorgeous. I’d be so devastated if he wasn’t any good.”

  My glare softens. “Best sex of my life.”

  “Yes! So what the hell is the bitch face for?” Sam wants to know, giving me a look that says he thinks I’m insane.

  “We had sex on the couch,” I start to complain.

  “Not that classy, but whatever. It’s Devin Garrison. If he asked me to do it in a gas station restroom, I would,” Sam blurts out and I laugh. “More details, please.”

  “Well, afterward I kind of passed out and he took me upstairs and put me in his bed instead of mine,” I complain.

  I drop down into my desk chair and look up at him. Sam is staring at me blankly from behind his thick-rimmed black glasses that he wears because “hipster is in” and not because he has vision problems.

  “Does he cuddle?” he wants to know. “I bet he’s a rock star at cuddling.”

  “I do not want to cuddle my one-night stand,” I say in slow, overpronounced words so he gets the point. Sam stares at me for a long minute, blinking cluelessly, and then he bursts out laughing. It’s such a weird response that I can’t help but laugh a little too.

  “Have you lost your mind?” I ask him with a giggle. “What is so funny?”

  He holds his sides and wheezes through his chuckles. “That you think Devin is a one-night stand!”

  I stop laughing.

  “Why wouldn’t he be?!” I demand and feel that panic attack from earlier trying to make another appearance.

  “You really believe that?” he asks me skeptically.

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Hmm, well, let’s see,” He scratches his chin and stares up at the ceiling pretending to be lost in deep thought. “Because you’ve known him forever and he’s one of your best friends. Because you’ve been helping him through a really emotional time in his life. Because you talk about his kid like you gave birth to him. Because you LIVE together. Oh yeah, and because you CARE about him.”

  “That doesn’t mean this can’t be a one-time thing,” I insist as the panic attack erupts inside me again. I put a hand to my heart to make sure it doesn’t crack through my rib cage. “I mean the friendship part is forever, but the sex thing was a one-off.”

  He says nothing, just stares at me with a smug, knowing smirk that makes me want to run screaming from this building, from Brooklyn and from Devin Garrison.

  “Stop looking at me like that!”

  There’s a knock at the door and Matthew is standing there holding something wrapped in foil that smells delicious. His eyes find me and he grins.

  “Brought you a breakfast burrito from the craft services cart.” He offers it to me.

  I step around the clothes rack and gratefully take the burrito. “You’re awesome. Thank you.”

  “I try.” He winks at me. “Hey, are you busy tonight?”

  “Yeah. With you. We’re going out,” I reply and I give him a minute to absorb the shock. “I’ll text you my address. Pick me up at eight.”

  “Great!”

  Matthew leaves and I bite into the scrumptious scrambled eggs, cheese and salsa mixture inside the whole-wheat tortilla. As I swallow, I glance over at Sam, who is still staring at me but his expression is no longer bemused; it’s unimpressed.

  “What now?” I ask sharply.

  He shakes his head and gives me a disapproving stare. “You’re going to regret that, Callie.”

  Chapter 32

  Devin

  I wake up just after seven and find my bed empty. Where did she go? Did she have to be at work early today? She hadn’t mentioned that. But then again we hadn’t given ourselves much opportunity for small talk last night.

  I smile at the memory. It was amazing. Sexually I swear I’d never been so turned on or come so hard. I’d slept with my fair share of women in my life prior to Ashleigh. All of them were attractive with hot bodies and pretty lips and bedroom eyes and lots of things that Callie had, physically, but something about being with Callie was just…better. She was unbelievable.

  I lie back in bed and call her. But when she doesn’t answer, I feel concern sprout up in the pit of my stomach. I decide to send her an email, but when I open that on my phone I see a message from Doris, our team counselor.

  I had called her yesterday while I got ready for the charity event and asked her to recommend a divorce lawyer. This was her getting back to me. I open the email with a heavy heart. Duthie, McLennan and Partners was the name of the law firm she was recommending. She said they were used to the privacy needed for high-profile clients and were very quick and efficient. What else did I need from a divorce lawyer? I had no idea. She also expressed her sincere apologies and wanted me to know that her door was open to talk any time.

  I really wish I could talk to Callie right now. My day was starting to look like hell on earth. I twist my wedding band, which is still on my finger for some reason, and then dial my parents’ number.

  My mom answers on the second ring and sounds relieved to hear my voice. She listens as I explain everything—from Ashleigh cheating on me to my decision yesterday—but I don’t mention sleeping with Callie. That’s something I will keep to myself, at least until Callie and I discuss what it meant.

  Although I can tell my mother’s heart is breaking at the thought that ending my marriage is the choice I intend to make, she also makes it clear she knows it’s my only choice.

  The rest of the day is long and strenuous. I have practice, which is grueling, and then stay late with the trainer to work on my hamstring, which has been bothering me. Then I have an appointment at the law office. Walking into that law office is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. The appointment runs almost two hours. By the time I get home and step into the townhouse, I’m emotionally exhausted. I walk into the living room and drop down on the couch.

  The house is empty. Callie isn’t here. The other thing weighing on my brain is that she seemed to be ignoring me. I had called her again and once again got her voicemail.

  I thought last night was…well, it was fucking epic. Did she not feel the same way? I was certain she enjoyed it as it was happening and that she wanted it as much as I did. So…what is the issue? I lie down and close my eyes. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I know the
doorbell is ringing. I sit up and rub my tired eyes as I hear footsteps on the stairs.

  I walk to the front hall in time to see Callie, looking model-beautiful, coming down the stairs. She has on a shimmery shirt that hangs off one of her shoulders, leaving the pale, perfect skin exposed, and jeans that hug her perfect ass and these open-toed, totally sexy little high-heeled ankle boots. I’ve always been a shoe guy. A sexy pair of heels on a sexy woman does something for me.

  I wonder when she got home and am about to ask her when her brown eyes catch mine almost guiltily. “It’s for me. You can go back to your nap.”

  I can’t help but give her a confused look. She hesitates with her hand on the door handle. It’s like she doesn’t want to open the door with me there.

  “Are you going out?” I can’t help but ask, even though I’m not sure it’s my business.

  “Umm…yeah.” She clears her throat and turns her gaze to the marble tile under her feet. “I have a date.”

  “A what?”

  The doorbell rings again. She turns away from me and opens it. There, on our front step, is a lanky guy with his brown hair pushed up into a fauxhawk. He smiles as soon as he sees Callie and it reminds me of a slobbery, horny teenager looking at his first Playboy. Gross.

  “Hey, Matthew, let’s go!” she says hurriedly.

  I cough. Loudly. His eyes turn to me and he looks shocked. I give him a hard smile.

  “Hey,” I say, stepping forward. “I’m Devin.”

  “Uh…I’m Matthew.” I walk across the small hall and move in between him and Callie to shake his hand. He’s wearing a ton of leather cuffs and bracelets on his arm and about seven long silver chains around his neck. It’s ridiculous.

  “Are you Callie’s brother?” he wants to know.

  “No,” I say flatly and his eyes grow more confused.

  “He might as well be,” Callie pipes up a little too loudly. “I’ve known Devin forever. He’s from my hometown. He’s letting me stay here until I get my own place. His brother is engaged to my sister. And his friend is dating my other sister.”

  Matthew starts blinking so furiously I think his eyelids might be having seizures. I smile again and this time it’s because I’m completely amused.

  “Oh,” is all he says because Callie has buried him so far under a giant pile of useless information I don’t know how he will ever find his way out.

  “Later, Devin,” she says as she takes Matthew by the elbow. “Don’t wait up.”

  She shuts the door with a small click and I’m left alone.

  Chapter 33

  Callie

  As Matthew’s lips crash down on mine, I decide that I hate Sam. The little shit was right but I would rather fire him than ever admit that to him. It was bad enough I had to admit it to myself. I regret this.

  This “date” with Matthew has been a disaster since the moment I opened the front door. As if Devin being there weren’t enough, Matthew had then taken me to some quaint little Italian restaurant and forced me to sit and eat and make ridiculous small talk over candles, wine and dinner. I never understood why couples did this as part of their mating ritual—just sit there and eat in front of each other and ask each other stupid questions like what music do you like or whatever. So annoying and tedious.

  Finally, after dinner, I convinced him to head to the bowling alley across the street. I am not a big bowler but it would give me something to concentrate on rather than just him and his silly questions, like what is my favorite color and did I eat a lot of lobster growing up in Maine? I ordered us two beers and we rented some shoes and started a game.

  With two balls he only managed to knock down three pins. We played three games and I won all of them easily. I became even more bored. No competition. I guess I have been spoiled hanging out with the Garrison brothers, who are impossibly good at every sport. On the drive back to my place he started talking about Devin again, asking why he lived in Brooklyn in such an expensive brownstone. I explained he played for the Barons.

  “That’s a hockey team, right?” Matthew questioned.

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t watch hockey,” he told me.

  “You should. It’s awesome.”

  “Maybe your buddy can get us tickets,” Matthew suggested. I tried not to scrunch my nose up at how much that thought did not appeal to me.

  I just shrugged my answer and prayed he would drive faster so I could get to bed and end this day. And I had been so close to escape as he pulled up to the curb in front of Devin’s townhouse. I had my hand on the door handle and everything, but before I could get away, he grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me.

  And that’s where I am now—stuck in the middle of a horrible kiss. Nothing about it makes me feel good. I don’t know why. It’s not like he’s overly sloppy or forceful or anything, but when I feel his tongue move and graze my lips I want to puke. I pull back suddenly and am out of the car before he realizes what’s happening.

  “See you at work!” I call and hurry up the stairs to the front door.

  The house is dark and silent. I kick off my shoes and climb the stairs. My body feels heavy and so does my mind. I’m borderline depressed, but I don’t know why. What the hell is wrong with me?

  When I reach my door, I can’t help but glance over toward Devin’s room. His door is open and there’s a dim light pouring out. I can see his bare feet at the bottom of his bed, on top of the duvet. I know I probably shouldn’t, but I walk over to his room anyway. He’s sitting up wearing nothing but gray-and-white-checkered pajama bottoms and he’s reading a book. His dirty-blond hair is kind of matted down like he’d been wearing a baseball cap earlier or something. His heavy brow looks even heavier as he concentrates on whatever it is he’s reading. He must sense me standing there, because he looks up and doesn’t seem surprised. I guess he heard the front door.

  “How was the date?” he wants to know, only you can tell by his voice that he really doesn’t want to know.

  “Honestly?”

  “Are you ever not honest with me?” he questions back. We look at each other. I don’t need to answer that because he knows I’m always brutally honest with everyone.

  “It was atrocious,” I reply and run a hand through my hair, pulling it forward over my shoulder as I sigh. “The kid doesn’t watch hockey and he took me to some romantic dimly lit restaurant and he can’t bowl to save his life.”

  Devin’s face bursts into a giant grin. “Bowling ability is a must for you in a mate?”

  “At least an ounce of athletic ability is,” I counter and smile. “And all that combined with what I already knew were deficits—like that he has the fashion sense of a hipster douche bag—and I guess it just became one giant deal breaker.”

  Devin just nods, still smiling.

  “Anyway, I’m going to bed,” I tell him and wave. It’s awkward but then again everything about tonight has been awkward, so whatever.

  Ten minutes later I’ve changed into my pajamas, washed my face and finished brushing my teeth. When I head back into my bedroom from the bathroom, Devin is standing in my door. I freeze. Something in me starts to flutter with excitement and something else starts to flutter with fear. Overall it makes me feel light-headed and weak.

  “We haven’t had a chance to talk about last night,” he says quietly.

  “I don’t want to talk about last night,” I reply firmly. I walk closer to my bed but hesitate before getting into it. He still hasn’t left. I hate to admit that part of me is glad.

  “Okay, then, let’s talk about your date again,” he offers and his dark eyes stare right into me with an intensity that takes my breath away. “If you wanted someone tall and athletic who knows about hockey, you didn’t have to leave the house.”

  I don’t want to smile at that, but I can’t help it. I turn my face away from him and let my hair make a shield, hoping he doesn’t see it. I start to fluff the pillows on my bed.

  “Did you kiss him?”

&nbs
p; “Does it matter?” I challenge.

  “Did you like it?”

  “No.”

  I turn back to face him and he’s right in front of me now. I’m shocked I didn’t hear him move. He towers over me, his eyes heavy with lust, and his lips in a full, sexy smirk.

  “Why?” he wants to know.

  “I don’t know why,” I snap back. I shake my head but I’m smiling again. It’s sheepish and unsure and I don’t know why. “What’s with the questions?”

  He touches the back of my head with his hand and leans down and presses his lips to mine. The kiss isn’t hesitant. It isn’t shy. It’s powerful and dominant. His tongue pushes its way into my mouth, not like he’s exploring or claiming territory but like he already owns it—owns me. I’m so turned on by that I could pass out.

  “Did it feel like that?” he asks me.

  “Of course not,” I respond in a throaty, breathless sigh.

  “Then that’s why you didn’t like it.”

  Before he can say anything else and before his smirk can grow any wider, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back. I lower us both onto the bed. His body hovers over mine. His forearms and biceps are tight and hard beside me as they hold his weight. I move my lips from his lips to his neck and run my tongue up to his ear.

  He lowers his body slowly onto mine and pushes his hips into me at the same time. I wrap my legs around his waist and hold our groins together. My hands are on a mission, roaming over his bare back and chest and shoulders and arms—they touch every part of him, and still it’s not enough.

  I have wanted men in the past—really wanted them—but never have I been this overwhelmed with desire for someone. And the fact that I have already had him and still want him more than before I had him—that scares me.

  “We should stop,” I say as his hands start to tug my tank top off my body. “We did this already.”