“Three. Can you count to three?”
Conner touches his finger to the tips of hers. “One. Two. Twee,” he says. They both start clapping and he says, “Me now.”
Bridgette begins to count his fingers this time. I lean my head against the doorframe and watch her interact with him.
I don’t know why I’ve never spent time with her outside of the bedroom before this. I could add up all the things she’s done to me at night, and I’m positive I wouldn’t trade today for all of that combined.
This is the Bridgette that I see. The part of her she gives to me. And now that I’m watching her, I see that she’s very capable of giving it to others who deserve it.
“Do you stare at all your roommates like this?” Whitney whispers in my ear. I spin around, and she’s standing behind me, watching me watch Bridgette. I shake my head and look back at Bridgette. “No. I don’t.”
As soon as I say it, I regret saying it. Whitney will be texting me within the hour, wanting to know all the details. How long I’ve known her, where she’s from, if I’m in love with her.
Time to leave.
“Ready, Bridgette?” I ask, handing the baby back to Whitney.
Bridgette glances up at me and then back to Conner. She actually looks a little sad that she has to say goodbye.
“Bye, Bwidjet,” Conner says to her with a wave. Bridgette gasps and turns to face me.
“Oh, my God! Warren, he said my name!”
She turns back to Conner, and he’s still waving. “Shit on me,” he says.
Bridgette immediately picks him up and sets him down on the floor. “Ready,” she says quickly, walking away from him and toward the front door.
Whitney is pointing at Conner and looking at me, “Did he just say . . .”
I nod. “I think he did, Whit. You need to watch your language around your kids.” I give her a quick kiss on the cheek and head for the front door.
Bridgette is standing over Brody, looking down at him. “Seriously impressive.”
He’s in the exact same position we left him in. “I told you he dies better than anyone I know.” I step over him and hold the front door open for her. We walk outside and she doesn’t even flinch or pull away when I slide my hand through hers. I walk her to the passenger side door, but before I open it, I turn her to face me and I press her against the car. My hand touches her forehead and I wipe away a wisp of hair.
“I never thought I wanted kids,” she says, glancing back at the house.
“But you do now?”
She shakes her head. “No, not really. But maybe if I could have Conner. At that age, for like a year, maybe two. Then I’d probably get tired of him and not want him anymore, but a year or two out of my life might be fun.”
I laugh. “So why don’t you kidnap him and bring him back when he’s five?”
She faces me again. “But you would know it was me who took him.”
I smile down at her. “I would never tell. I like you better than I like him.”
She shakes her head. “You love your sister too much to do that to her. It would never work. We’d have to kidnap someone else’s kid.”
I sigh. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Besides, we should probably kidnap a celebrity’s kid. That way we could get ransom out of it and never have to work again. We could give the kid back, take the money, and spend the rest of our lives having sex all day.”
Bridgette smiles. “You’re so romantic, Warren. No other guy has ever promised me a kidnapping and ransom.”
I tilt her chin up so that her mouth is positioned closer to mine. “Like I said, you just haven’t met the right asshole.” I press my lips to hers and kiss her, briefly. I keep it PG in case Brody has come back to life and is watching us.
I reach behind her and open the door. She walks around me to climb inside, but before she does, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek.
To Brody or anyone else watching, that was just a kiss on the cheek. But knowing Bridgette like I know her, that was a whole lot more than just a kiss. That was her saying she doesn’t need anyone else.
That kiss on the cheek means we’re official.
That kiss on the cheek means I have a girlfriend.
Chapter Ten
“So you think it’s official because she kissed you on the cheek?” Sydney says, confused. She doesn’t get it. She’s like everyone else and sees Bridgette at face value, which is fine. Bridgette gives people a pretty rough face value, and that’s Bridgette’s right.
I stop trying to explain to Sydney my relationship with Bridgette. Besides, I kind of like that no one gets it. And even though we had this really crazy, non-sexual experience with the hand-holding and the cheek kissing the other day, it hasn’t affected us in the bedroom. In fact, last night we moved past the slow and steady streak we’ve been on and played out a fantasy of mine that involved her Hooters uniform.
“You should try to get a job at Hooters,” I tell Sydney. I know she’s been looking for work, and even though it doesn’t seem up her alley, the tips really are good.
“No thanks,” she says. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in those shorts.”
“They’re actually very nice shorts. Soft. Stretchy. You’d be surprised. And last night when Bridgette was pretending she was serving me a platter of hot wings, I reached down and . . .”
“Warren,” Sydney says. “Stop. I don’t care. How many times do I have to tell you I don’t care about your sex life?”
I frown. Ridge doesn’t really like to hear about it, either, and I can’t tell Bridgette because she’s a part of the story and it would just be redundant. I miss Brennan. He always listened.
Bridgette’s bedroom door opens, and I watch as her eyes search the living room for me. I can see a hint of a smile, but she’s good at making sure I’m the only one who sees it.
“Good morning, Bridgette,” I say to her. “Sleep well?”
Her eyes fall on Sydney, who’s seated next to me on the couch again. She looks away, but not before I see a flash of hurt on her face.
“Screw you, Warren,” Bridgette says, turning her attention toward the refrigerator.
Still, after holding hands and kissing my cheek, she thinks I’d ever mess with another girl?
I watch her as she slams stuff around in the kitchen, angrily. “I don’t like how she’s up your ass all the time,” Bridgette says. I immediately turn to Sydney and laugh, because for one, she still thinks Sydney can’t hear her, and two, I can’t believe she just said that to me. If that isn’t her laying claim to me, I don’t know what is.
I love it.
“You think that’s funny?” Bridgette says after spinning around. I quickly shake my head and lose my smile, but she throws her hand in Sydney’s direction. “The girl obviously has it bad for you, and you can’t even respect me enough to distance yourself from her until I’m out of the house?” She turns her back to us again. “First she gives Ridge some sob story so he’ll let her move in and now she’s taking advantage of the fact that you know sign language so she can flirt with you.”
I don’t know who to feel worse for, Bridgette or Sydney. Or myself. “Bridgette, stop.”
“You stop, Warren,” she says, turning back around to face me. “Either stop crawling in bed with me at night or stop shacking up on the couch with her during the day.”
I knew it was coming, but I hoped I wouldn’t be here when it finally did.
Sydney reaches her breaking point and slaps her book against her thighs. “Bridgette, please!” she yells. “Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! Christ! I don’t know why you think I’m deaf, and I’m definitely not a whore and I’m not using sign language to flirt with Warren. I don’t even know sign language. And from now on, please stop yelling when you speak to me!”
I’m scared to look at Bridgette. I f
eel torn, because I want to high-five Sydney for finally standing up for herself, but I want to hug Bridgette because I know this has to be hard for her. I suddenly feel like the prank was the worst prank in the history of pranks.
I glance up just in time to see a flood of hurt wash over Bridgette’s face. She marches to her room and slams her door.
This is going to be impossible to fix. Sydney just single-handedly ruined my entire relationship with that outburst.
Okay, it wasn’t all her. I played a huge part in it, too.
My chest hurts. I don’t like this. I don’t like the silence, and I don’t like the fact that I’m about to have to go make this right. I put my hands on my knees and begin to stand. “Well, there goes my chance to act out all the role-playing scenes I’ve been imagining. Thanks a lot, Sydney.”
She pushes her book off her lap and stands up. “Screw you, Warren.”
Ouch. Double hurt.
Sydney walks over to Bridgette’s bedroom door and knocks. After a few seconds, she cautiously slips inside and closes the door behind her.
If she somehow fixes this, I’ll be indebted to her forever.
I sigh and run my hand through my hair, knowing this is my fault. I glance over at Ridge and he’s staring at me. “What’d I miss?” he signs.
I slowly shake my head in shame. “Bridgette found out Sydney’s not deaf and now Bridgette hates me. Sydney went to Bridgette’s room to try and fix things because she feels guilty.”
Confusion clouds Ridge’s face. “Sydney?” he signs. “What does she have to feel guilty for?”
I shrug. “Going along with the prank, I guess. She feels bad that it embarrassed Bridgette.”
Ridge shakes his head. “Bridgette deserved it. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be her. Not Sydney.”
Why is he defending Sydney like he’s her overprotective boyfriend? I glance at Bridgette’s bedroom door, shocked that I actually hear a conversation going on in her room, rather than a catfight. Ridge waves his hand in the air to get my attention again.
“Bridgette isn’t yelling at her, is she?” he signs. He looks worried, and frankly, that concerns me.
“You sure do seem to care a lot about Sydney’s well-being,” I sign.
His jaw tightens, and I know I probably shouldn’t have said anything. I can’t help it, though. I’ve been through a lot with Ridge and Maggie, and I don’t want him screwing things up just because he might find another girl attractive.
I can tell he doesn’t want to take the conversation in that direction, so I redirect it back to me.
“No, neither of them are yelling,” I sign. “But Bridgette will be as soon as she walks back out of her bedroom. She’ll more than likely move out now, and I’ll never be able to crawl out of bed again because . . .” I clasp my hand to my chest, “She’s gonna take my heart with her.”
He knows I’m being dramatic, so he rolls his eyes and laughs, turning to face his laptop again. The door to Bridgette’s bedroom swings open, and she marches out.
I didn’t prepare for this. I knew she’d be mad, but I’m not sure I can defend myself against her physically if we were in a real fight.
I sit up straight and watch in fear as she walks swiftly toward me. She kneels down onto the couch and slides her leg across my lap, straddling me.
I’m so confused.
Her hands meet my cheeks and she sighs. “I can’t believe I’m falling in love with such a stupid, stupid asshole.”
My heart wants to rejoice, but my mind is pulling on the reins.
Falling in love.
With an asshole.
A stupid, stupid asshole.
Holy shit! That’s me!
I wrap my hands around her head and pull her mouth to mine at the same time that I stand up and begin making my way into my bedroom. I shut the door behind us and walk over to the bed and drop her on it. I take off my shirt and throw it on the floor.
“Say it again.” I slide on top of her and she smiles, touching my face with the palms of her hands.
“I said I’m falling in love with you, Warren. I think. I’m pretty sure that’s what this is.”
I kiss her again, frantically. Those are the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard come out of another human. I pull back and look at her again. “But you wanted to kill me five minutes ago. What changed?” I lift up onto my hands. “Did Sydney pay you to say that? Is this a prank?” My heart stops. Bridgette shakes her head.
I would die. I would literally die if she took them back. I would die so much better than Brody dies, because my death would be actual death.
“I just . . .” Bridgette pauses, searching for the right words. “I’ve been thinking this whole time that maybe you were messing around with Sydney. But after talking to her, I know that’s not true. And she also mentioned that one night when you were drunk, you said you might love me. And that just . . . I don’t know, Warren.”
God, I love this. I love her nervousness. I love her hesitation. I love that she’s talking to me so openly. “Tell me, Bridgette,” I say quietly, urging her to finish what she was saying. I roll onto my side and lift up onto my elbow. I brush the hair away from her forehead and lean forward to kiss it.
“When she said that, it made me feel . . . happy. And I realized that I’m never happy. I was an unhappy child and I’m an unhappy adult and nothing in my life makes me feel the way you do. So I just . . . I think that’s what this feeling is. I think I’m falling in love with you.”
A small droplet of a tear escapes from the corner of her eye and as much as I want to bottle it up and save it for all of eternity, I pretend not to notice it, because I know that’s what she would prefer. I kiss her lips again before pulling back and looking her directly in the eyes. “I’m falling in love with you, too.”
She smiles and reaches her hand up to the back of my head, slowly pulling my mouth to hers. She kisses me softly and then gently pushes me onto my back. She eases herself on top of me and presses her hands against my chest.
“I think I should clarify that I never said I was in love with you. I just said I was falling in love with you. There’s a difference.”
I grab her by the hips and pull her closer. “The only difference between falling in love and being in love is that your heart already knows how you feel, but your mind is too stubborn to admit it.” Then I whisper in her ear. “But take all the time you need. I have nothing but patience for you.”
“Good, because I’m not telling you I love you yet. Because I don’t. I might be on my way to that point, but anything could derail that.”
I can’t help but smile and kiss her after that little disclaimer.
After a few more minutes of kissing, she turns her head to the side and holds up a finger, silently asking me to stop. She pulls away and sits up on the bed, hugging her knees. She lays her head on her arms and squeezes her eyes shut. She’s quiet for several moments, and her reaction is unusual for her. She looks guilty. She doesn’t ever look guilty because she’s always too angry to feel any sense of guilt.
“What’s the matter?” I ask her.
She quickly shakes her head. “I’m the worst person in the world,” she whispers. She turns her head toward mine, slowly. I don’t like the look on her face.
She begins to scoot off the bed and I feel my heart dragging behind her. “It was a prank, Warren,” she says softly as she stands.
I rise up onto my elbows. “What do you mean?”
She turns to face me and her eyes are so full of shame, she can’t even look at me without wincing. “I was trying to get back at you for letting me think Sydney was deaf.” She opens the bathroom door and looks down at her feet. “I said all that because I was mad at you, not because it’s really how I feel. I’m not falling in love with you, Warren.”
I think you’re standing on my heart, B
ridgette.
She glances over her shoulder into the bathroom, and then back at me. “I didn’t mean to take it that far. This is really awkward. I’m gonna go back to my room now.” She closes the door behind her.
I’m too numb to feel. Too numb to move. Too numb to process the words that just came out of her mouth. My throat hurts, my stomach hurts, my chest hurts, even my fucking lungs hurt and oh, my God, it hurts so much.
I fall back to the bed and bring two fists to my forehead.
“Hey, Warren,” she says from the doorway.
I look up at her and she still looks just as guilty. She waves her hand back and forth between us. “That whole thing that just happened? That was . . .” Her frown transforms into a shit-eating grin. “That was actually the prank!”
She runs and jumps on the bed, and begins dancing around me. “You should have seen your face!” She’s laughing and jumping, bouncing every aching part of me up and down on the bed.
I want to kill her.
She falls to her knees and leans over me, pressing her lips to mine. When she pulls back, I don’t want to kill her anymore. My whole body is miraculously healed by her smile. I feel better than I’ve ever felt. I feel stronger, more alive, happier, and somehow more in love with her than I was five minutes ago. I pull her against me. “That was a really good prank, Bridgette.”
She laughs. “I know. It was the best.”
I nod. “It really was.”
I hold her for several quiet minutes, replaying the entire scene in my head. “God, you’re such a bitch.”
She laughs again. “I know. A bitch who finally met the right asshole.”
Chapter Eleven
Guess who woke up in Bridgette’s bed again this morning?
Me.
Maybe Not (Maybe #1.5) Page 9
