Making a Play

by Victoria Denault

  As I make my way down the hall toward Luc’s room, I can hear someone else coming up the stairs. I glance over my shoulder and see Adam standing there. Now he looks as nervous as Tasha did a few seconds ago and it makes my step falter. “Are you okay?”

  Adam pushes past me and positions himself in front of Luc’s closed bedroom door.

  “We partied hard last night,” he says and runs a hand through his hair. “He’s probably not all that attractive looking right now. Why don’t you let me wake him and send him down?”

  I laugh at that. “Thanks, but I think I can handle it.”

  I smile and pat his shoulder as I slip past him and reach for the door handle.

  “Rose…” Something in Adam’s tone sends a ripple of gooseflesh down my arms. “We were very drunk. Very drunk.”

  I keep my eyes on Adam for a long moment as my wrist twists the doorknob. He shakes his head softly—a pleading, panicked don’t. I just can’t for the life of me figure out what could be so wrong. I push the door open and take one step over the threshold and my heart shatters.

  The love of my life is on his side, his broad tanned chest exposed, a sheet twisted around his lower half. There’s a woman tangled along with it. I can’t speak. There are no words. But my body shudders and the air evacuates my lungs and makes a sound like an animal stuck in a trap.

  Luc groans and shifts and says my name. The woman whose hair has been concealing her face also shifts, revealing her upper body clad only in a sheer lacy white bra. I focus on her now visible face. I know her. Tasha’s friend from months ago.

  I spin so fast I slam into Adam and knock him into the wall. And then I run.

  Chapter 37

  Luc

  “I woke up and that Bri girl was there beside me in her bra and panties and my underwear was gone and there was all this noise and I heard Adam fall down and then you called Rosie’s name and I wanted to run after her but I couldn’t find my pants and I don’t know why Rosie wasn’t in bed with me or why Brianna was and—”

  “Okay, shut up!” Cole commands and I snap my mouth closed and cradle my head in my hands as I rock on the edge of the couch.

  Leah, standing beside him in nothing but the oversize T-shirt she must have been sleeping in, dials her cell and curses when Rose doesn’t answer—again. She glares at me for a long moment and then sighs. “I’m going to go to her house.”

  Leah stomps out of the room and up the stairs to get changed.

  “Did you sleep with this chick, Luc?” Cole asks bluntly.

  “She was in my bed.”

  “Did you fuck her?” he repeats more bluntly.

  His eyes are sharp and his lips are pressed together so tightly they’re white. I reach between my legs and cup my dick through my boxer briefs.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he demands.

  “I would know, right? I would feel it? I would fucking know!” My eyes are staring up at him, begging him to tell me I would know. I would feel it or something if I cheated on the only girl I’ve ever loved and broke her heart and ruined my life.

  “Fuck, Luc,” is all he says and shakes his head in disappointment. “You don’t remember, do you?”

  “I would never cheat on Rose,” I choke out. “I know I was drunk, really drunk, but I would never touch someone else. I love Rose. I would never.”

  “Even if you were so drunk you thought it was Rose?” Cole asks and the blood tries to evacuate my body.

  “I would never…” But my voice cracks, giving away my fear and terror. Because the cold, miserable truth is I don’t know. I don’t know if I could be so drunk that I don’t realize I’m not with Rose. Is that what happens? You can get so drunk you don’t remember sleeping with someone? Jesus. “Why the fuck did I get drunk?”

  Adam walks into the room from the kitchen, with a bag of frozen pierogi against his cheek where it hit the wall when Rose pushed him over.

  “Why did you let her into my room last night?” I ask him because I need to know. How could he let her do this to me?

  “Dude, I swear I didn’t know she was in there until this morning,” Adam explains. “I walked by your room and saw her lying next to you. I just closed the door to give you some privacy. I didn’t know you didn’t want her in there.”

  “Of course I didn’t want her!” I bark back but my anger is misplaced. I know this isn’t Adam’s fault.

  Cole lets out a large, exasperated sigh. Tasha appears in the doorway behind Adam. “What do we do?”

  “I should go to Jessie and Jordan’s and wait for her there,” I say, standing up. “She’ll go home eventually.”

  “No way!” Cole replies sternly and blocks my path out of the room. “You can’t tell them about this. If you tell Jessie, she’ll lose it. Callie will assault you. Jordan will disown you. Just stay here and try to figure out what you’re going to say to her when you see her.”

  He’s right. Her sisters will kill me, but I don’t care. I need to see her. “Fine. I’m going to go get dressed.”

  Once back in my bedroom I close the door and stare at the bed. The duvet is in a pile at the end of the bed. The sheet is twisted and rumpled. A pillow is on the floor. I must have taken it with me when I opened my eyes, saw Brianna and flew out of the bed.

  I walk over and stare down at the bed, willing it to tell me its secrets. Did I fuck someone else here? Did I drunkenly throw away my own happiness? My future? My fucking life? Because that’s what Rose is—she’s my life. I can’t look forward without seeing her in my future. I can’t look back and have a good memory that doesn’t involve her. Oh my God, I am a fucking idiot!

  My eyes start to burn and water but I ignore it. I grab my cell off the nightstand and dial her number again. Of course she doesn’t answer.

  “Rose. Please. Come back. Talk to me. I…” My voice catches and grows hoarse. I clear my throat. It sounds like a roar. “Please. Just talk to me.”

  Chapter 38

  Luc

  The air is thick and stagnant, a typical humid August day, so even though the blazing sun is sinking behind the hills by the lake, I’m sweating like a pig. I waited all day and when Leah didn’t come back to tell me how Rose was, and Rose still wasn’t answering her phone, I hopped in Claudette, ignoring everyone’s advice, and drove to Jordan’s house. I park on the side of the road and decide to walk up the long, narrow driveway. I’m worried that if she hears Claudette she’ll lock herself away in the house and refuse to see me.

  Both Jessie’s and Jordan’s cars are in the driveway. I can only assume the two of them know and I’m a little shocked, and maybe hurt, that Jordan hasn’t tried to call me. He’s my best friend—he should be checking on me.

  My heart starts hammering erracticly in my chest as I get closer to the house. I haven’t really thought this through. I don’t know what I’m going to say to her, I just know I have to say something. I have to see her. Maybe if she looks at me and sees the anguish on my face she’ll forgive me. I know, even as I think it, that it’s a ridiculous hope—and a selfish one. I don’t think I could forgive her something like this.

  As I walk by the barn I hear voices through the open door. Jordan’s, and then I hear Rose. She says, “I like it.” It’s soft and weak but it’s definitely Rose. I turn and follow the sound.

  The first floor of the barn is completely redone. It’s got polished concrete floors and the newly drywalled walls are painted a soft gray color. One is covered in floor-to-ceiling mirrors. There are a few enormous boxes of brand-new gym equipment in the corner and a freshly unpacked treadmill next to a pile of free weights. I hear Jordan’s voice again and realize they’re upstairs, so I climb the circular staircase in the back corner of the room to the two-bedroom guest suite Jordan is building up there for Callie and Rose.

  The staircase ends in a small foyer area. Right in front of me is the front door to the guest suite. It’s wide open so I enter. The living room, which opens into the kitchen, is mostly finished, with warm oak f
loors and a rich blue-gray color on the walls. There’s no furniture yet, which is why their voices are echoing so loudly as they stand in the kitchen discussing the newly finished work.

  They didn’t hear me come in, so after taking a second to sweep my eyes over her lithe body, which somehow looks smaller than normal, I clear my throat.

  “Rose.” My voice is scratchy and hoarse and doesn’t sound at all like me but she must recognize it because she bristles, her whole body becoming as stiff as stone. “Rose. Please talk to me. Please.”

  “Luc.” Jordan’s voice is stern and hard like a disappointed father. I ignore him and walk farther into the room, coming around to stand between her and the kitchen island.

  Her face is tilted downward, glued to the hardwood. I’m standing close enough that she can see the tips of my Converse but she doesn’t look up and as much as I want to, I don’t dare touch her. I can’t really see her face, just the top of her head.

  “Rosie. I don’t know what happened. I swear to God. I went to bed alone. I phoned you. You got the message, right? I was alone.” I’m having trouble finishing my words. They all kind of drop off, like when someone talks right after choking on water.

  “Luc, leave her alone.” Jordan’s voice is stern. “You should go.”

  Jordan’s eyes are hard and he’s frowning at me. I deserve this, I know, but it still hurts. Everything fucking hurts. Before I can beg Jordan to just give me a minute alone with her, Rose looks up. Her face is blotchy, her eyelids puffy and her eyes bloodshot. She stares right at me—right into my eyes—like she’s looking for something. She looks so completely and utterly broken it makes the impossible ache in my chest even more unbearable.

  Out of instinct, I reach out to cup her cheek tenderly, but she gets this sick-to-her-stomach look on her face and abruptly slaps my hand away so fast and so hard that the smack echoes through the barn.

  “Did you fuck her?” she whispers raggedly.

  “I don’t think so.”

  She blinks; a moment of stunned confusion passes over her features replacing the despair for a brief second. I know it’s the most pitiful answer I could give, but it’s also the truth. I swore I would never lie to her—and even though saying “absolutely not” might make this all go away—I can’t start now.

  “I don’t remember sleeping with her,” I clarify quickly. “And I know I didn’t want to sleep with her. I don’t want to sleep with anyone but you. I swear to God, Fleur. It’s only you. You’re all I want.”

  “But you don’t…” She swallows and shakes her head. And then she shoves me. I stumble, my back hitting the kitchen island. “How the fuck do you not know?!”

  “I passed out!” I counter, my voice rising. “I woke up and I was wearing… nothing. But I don’t remember doing anything. I swear to God, Rose, I would never intentionally…”

  “Oh, so it’s okay if you accidentally stuck your dick in someone else?” she yells, and tears stream down her cheeks. “As long as you didn’t intentionally break my fucking heart, Luc, you think I should forgive you?”

  “I… I don’t think I slept with her. I really don’t.”

  “Oh, you slept with her,” she corrects, folding her arms across her chest. “You slept naked with her, but you don’t think you fucked her. That makes sense to you?”

  Jordan is suddenly between us. “Look, you two. Maybe you both need a time-out. Take some time apart to think about this whole mess.”

  “Or is it just that we’re not in a real relationship. I’m a dirty little secret, after all,” she says, her voice cracking.

  “It is a real relationship, Rose,” I argue back.

  “You don’t even know what that is!” she yells as she wipes her tears with the back of her hand and stares at me harshly. I have never seen anyone look so disappointed and devastated in my entire life. “Just go. Get out of here.”

  When it becomes clear I won’t do what she asked, she storms down the staircase and out of the barn. I walk over to the window in the living room and watch her as she runs up the porch steps and into the house.

  I turn back to Jordan. The cold, unfriendly look he’s been wearing since I walked in has morphed into something softer—something with more sympathy. I run my hands through my hair and sit on the window bench.

  “I have to be able to fix this,” I whisper.

  “I wish you could, Luc,” Jordan says quietly. “But this is… the worst possible thing you could have done.”

  “But you and Jessie… you fucked up with her and she took you back. You two worked it out,” I argue back, trying to find some sliver of hope to hold onto.

  “Jessie and I were teenagers. We didn’t know any better. This is different,” Jordan replies and sighs. “And Rose isn’t Jessie.”

  I hold my head in my hands and try to take deep, even breaths, but it hurts my chest. I have never felt worse in my entire life. Not when my parents divorced, not when I had to deal with my mom’s alcoholism, never.

  “I think right now the best thing you can do is give her a little space,” he tells me and squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I’ll keep you posted on how she’s doing, I promise, but just stay away for a couple days, okay?”

  I nod because if I say anything my voice will crack and I might very possibly break down. I take my keys and leave the barn. As I climb into Claudette and her engine roars to life, I decide that even if I can’t see her for a while, I’m not going to stop looking for a way to fix this.

  Chapter 39

  Rose

  I don’t even know why I’m out of the house except for the fact that I was beginning to feel sick—like physically sick. All I have done for the last four days is lie on the couch or lie on my bed. Cole was kind enough to get my work shifts covered and Callie and Jessie were treating me like they used to when I was a teenager and had the flu. Callie is cooking for me—comfort food like homemade chicken noodle soup, macaroni and cheese, and chicken pot pie. Jessie is fussing, bringing books and magazines, fluffing my pillows and changing my sheets the one time I actually got up to take a shower this morning. I know everyone is just trying to help and I love them for it, but it’s starting to get suffocating, so at dusk, after Jessie and Callie leave for yoga, I tell Jordan I’m going for a ride and hop on Esmeralda.

  I don’t know where to go so I just ride aimlessly. I circle the lake, turning off when I get near Luc’s house, and head up the hill. It’s an arduous ride: the hill is pretty steep and it’s dark out now, but I don’t stop. It feels good to exert myself. The physical pain in my legs as I peddle up the incline is a nice distraction from the emotional pain that’s consumed me for seventy-two hours—and counting.

  I reach the tiny lookout halfway up the hill and decide to stop. Below, the lights of Silver Bay flicker and shimmer. The lake is as smooth as glass and as dark as onyx. It’s been one hell of a summer. I went from dreading this town, and the people in it, to loving it more than I knew possible thanks to Luc, to wanting nothing more than to leave. The last couple of days I’ve been toying with the idea of driving to the airport and buying a ticket on the next available flight, no matter where it goes. I no longer have any reason to be in town. I could always leave now and meet Kate in France when she gets there.

  Luc has texted me twenty-one times since I walked in on him that morning. He’s called fourteen times and left seven voicemails. I haven’t listened to any of them and finally just turned my phone off and shoved it in a drawer yesterday afternoon. I know he’s also been calling the landline at my house. I know that Jordan is the only one who’ll talk to him. I’m actually glad Jordan is talking to him. He’s upset and for some reason I want someone to be there for him. Maybe it’s just an old habit or instinct or maybe I’m just the kind of loser who worries about the guy who ripped her heart out.

  I sigh and hop back on Esmeralda. I don’t pedal on the way down; I just keep applying the brakes carefully so I don’t end up going too quickly. It feels good to have the wind on
my face. I’m almost at the bottom of the hill, debating whether I should ride through town or just head home, when Esmeralda’s front tire pops and deflates instantly. I manage to slow down without falling but any little glimmer of a better mood is gone. I drop her on the ground by the side of the road and give the tire a strong kick.

  The worst part is, I didn’t bring my phone on this joy ride so I can’t call anyone to come pick me up. I’m about four or five miles from home. It’s not a big deal, I guess, but I’m suddenly really upset at the idea of having to walk and drag this piece of junk with me. Why can’t anything in my life go the way I want it to?

  I’m on the southern edge of the lake, heading back toward the farmhouse, when a pair of headlights from a passing car hit me. It’s been happening the whole walk but this time the vehicle slams to a stop, brakes screeching. It startles me and I look up.

  Claudette is idling in the middle of the street. My heart gallops painfully at the sight of her because I know who’s behind the wheel. I force myself to stare straight ahead and keep on walking.

  As I pass he calls out my name but I don’t acknowledge it. I’m a hundred feet ahead when I can hear Claudette rumbling toward me. He must have done a U-turn because suddenly he’s buzzing past me and then he turns the wheel slightly and stops abruptly a couple yards up, blocking the shoulder of the road so I can’t keep going.

  He jumps out of the truck and walks toward me. “Esmeralda break down again?”