The Bad Boy's Forever (The Bad Boy's Girl Book 3)

by Blair Holden

  Well, I’m not exactly exploring, I’m on a mission. The doorman has kindly called a cab for me and as I give him the address, I have time to finally check my phone and it seems like someone finally decided to check on me again. But before I allow myself to be distracted by thoughts of him, I turn my phone off and steel myself for what I’m about to do.

  It shouldn’t be making me nervous but it definitely is. In the time that I’ve worked at Venus, I’ve interviewed a lot of famous people. Before meeting any of them, I’d have the most sleepless and restless nights and would be sweating like a cow at the butcher’s shop before meeting any of them. I feel some of the same nervousness right now even though I don’t have any reason to. I think about Cami’s pep talk the night before and try to channel some of the strength. By the time I reach my destination, I’ve calmed down a little. After paying the driver, I take a deep breath and regroup.

  Focus, Tessa, focus.

  So once I’ve centered myself, I let my power heels walk me into the lobby and put on a smiling face.

  “Hi, I’m a friend of Melissa Sanders. Could you call and let her know I’m here?”

  This could end two ways. Either we’d have an open, civil discussion that would help me get to the bottom of things, or one of us would make it out minus a few chunks of hair. I touch my freshly curled locks.

  Yup, it needs to be her.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, who did you say was here?”

  “Oh, my bad, could you tell her it’s Cole’s girlfriend? Tessa O’Connell.”

  Chapter Fourteen: A Valley Girl Stores Kale Like a Camel Stores Water

  Looking back at my life, although it doesn’t require too far a look back, I realize that I don’t really have a penchant for aggressive behavior. Am I dramatic? Of course I am, it runs in the family. My grandmother likes to tell me the story about her high school prom date bailing on her and how the very next day she showed up to his house, claiming to be the mother of his unborn child. It’d been a huge production, complete with lots of tears and yelling and cursing the young man in question to hell. Apparently, her little ploy worked, because she never saw him again. Grandma, being the smart cookie that she is, knew exactly what she was doing. I think going to a minister’s house and telling him that his son’s definitely not saved himself for marriage and has had a child out of wedlock would prompt drastic action to be taken.

  So I think a flair for the dramatic definitely runs in the family, and some dormant aspect of my personality that I inherited from Grandma has come alive, forcing me into this confrontation. Do I have a game plan? No. Do I have even the slightest hint of what to say to a woman who is causing all sorts of problems in my six-year relationship? Not really. But what I do know is that things can’t just go on the way they are. Cole might have shut me out and in a way, I’m not even doing this for him. My flying here to talk to Mel isn’t a desperate attempt to salvage our relationship. I’m doing it for me. I’m the one who needs answers and I’m the one who does not want to be kept in the dark anymore. If she refuses to see me, I’ll find another way to get her to talk. If I’m here, then it’s because I refuse to play the part of the clueless girlfriend who gets made fun of while her boyfriend lives a life she’s completely unaware of.

  I’m preparing myself to argue, to make my case to the manager on duty just so that he lets me up, but I realize that while I’ve been planning out my speech, he’s been saying something.

  “I’m sorry, what?” He looks at me a little strangely.

  “I said you can go up. She told me to remind you what floor her apartment is on as well as the number. Apparently, you two don’t see each other often.”

  “Yes?” I feel a little dazed that Mel gave in so easily. I didn’t think she’d want to meet me at all, especially if she’s aware of mine and Cole’s fight.

  He’s been so tight-lipped about whatever it is that’s going on here, and that’s the one big reason for our fallout. Even when he’s called or texted to apologize, he’s never once answered my questions and I just don’t know why. Without even wanting to, I think about what Leila said to me about Cole being bored and wanting to be with someone who needed him.

  Just like I once had.

  Make no mistake, I still love him with everything that I am, but I don’t rely on him for my very next breath like I had when I first fell in love with him. Back then, he took a girl who had absolutely no self-value and who was self-deprecating to a fault. I relied on him to feel good about myself, to see myself in another light than I’d been painted in. Of course I needed him then because he was the only person holding me up. Everything around me, all the relationships that I valued, were crumbling, and he walked in like this ray of pure, unadulterated light and happiness. He made me love myself, made me realize that I could be more than just the ostracized former fat girl with a dysfunctional family. Because although I’d lost the weight I needed to by the time he came back, my mind was still stuck in the body of that overweight, scared girl who’d been torn into by bullies. I don’t need to be reminded of the drastic measures I took to change the number on the scale, but I’m terrified to think of what I would have kept doing had he not walked back into my life. Before he came back, I’d pinned my hopes on another boy, his stepbrother, Jay, and when Cole came and rescued me, those feelings switched to him.

  But here’s the thing about Cole that makes him so different from Jay. While Jay still thrives on making the girls he dates feel like they need him, Cole’s always empowered. Through the years, he’s helped me become stronger so that I reach the point where I want him, which of course I do, all the time, but I don’t need him to exist. Our parents never needed to worry about our relationship becoming too toxic and codependent because Cole’s not the kind of guy who needs to be worshipped by a girl to feel valued. He’s always been there for me, a support that I could blindly count on, and he’s pushed me to be fearless and confident and love myself for who I am.

  So no, Leila, Cole isn’t the kind of guy who gets off on playing the role of the hero or the savior. Something else is going on here and I need to get to the bottom of it. Almost in a daze, I take the elevator to Melissa’s floor. I wonder again why it was so important for Cole to live here when he could easily afford better housing closer to his school. At the time when he made the choice to live here, he told me it had a lot to do with saving money for the future because of course law school is expensive and he didn’t want to be paying student loans for the rest of his life. But he does not need to worry about covering tuition because his late grandfather left him enough money to help him through law school and, prior to that, college. I’ve always wondered why he’s here, and if the reason is the person I’m about to meet, then shit’s really going to hit the fan.

  My steps are small and hesitant. Now that I’m here, the part of me that’s much bigger than whatever I’ve inherited from my grandmother makes itself known. I hate confrontation, I hate meeting new people, and therefore I’m terrified about confronting people I’ve just met. The little that I saw of Melissa the last time I was here doesn’t prepare me a lot for what’s to come. I’m nervous and my palms are sweating, but the determination to not let such a ridiculous thing come between me and Cole pushes my feet forward, and then I’m in front of her door and knocking.

  My knuckles barely touch the door when it’s opening and I almost lose my balance. It’s like she’d been waiting for me and known exactly when I’d walk in. The door swings open and behind it stands the person that I have a whole lot of questions for. The girl in front of me would’ve given the old Tessa a lot of reason to go hide in bed and cry for days. Melissa’s the kind of woman that would cause anyone’s insecurities to go into hyperdrive. She’s so small and petite and delicate but has curves for days, which her sweater dress just accentuates perfectly. Her chocolate-brown hair seems natural and is currently cut and styled into a fashionable lob and compared to me, she looks like she’s got minimal makeup on. That makes her the fresh-faced beauty and m
e the vamp. Immediately she makes me feel lanky and clumsy and despite the padded bra I’ve got on, I feel like a little girl.

  “Tessa.” Damn it, even her voice is deep and husky. It’s the kind of voice that makes men dream about it for a long, long time. “I thought I’d see you here soon.”

  I look around her apartment from my position on the doorstep and I see a mirror image of Cole’s loft, with the exception of a lot more toys scattered around. I take a quick look to see if her daughter’s around because I’d ideally not like to do this in front of a five-year-old.

  “Lainey’s with my mom, in case you were wondering. I was just about to go pick her up.”

  “Oh, is this a bad time then? Should I come back later?”

  It’s like she almost knows what I’ve come here for and she’s dreading it as much as I am. But there’s definitely something defensive about the way she’s standing right now, like she’s ready to fight me off if I say the wrong thing.

  Okay, while I have been working on that upper-body strength, I don’t really have enough in me to ward off this pixie. I should really start paying attention to Leila and her Krav Maga spiel.

  “No.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and Jesus, even that tiny movement is done with the grace of a butterfly. She’s one of those women that bring out every single caveman-like protective instinct that men possess, and for the first time a bit of jealousy begins to unfurl itself within me. We’re not the same, at all. I’m clumsy and awkward and as far from being graceful and delicate as you would assume. The remnants of my heavier days are still with me, which means that I stomp and I huff and I puff, the least ladylike twenty-something you would find. Maybe that’s what she’s got going for herself, the fact that she makes you want to wrap her up in Bubble Wrap and put her in your pocket.

  “So, may I please come in? I know this is kind of sudden and you weren’t expecting me but...”

  God, this is so painful that I feel awkward enough for both of us.

  “Yes, I mean you can come in.” She moves back to let me in. “But I kind of did expect you to show up. Maybe not this soon, but I knew you’d want to talk to me.”

  They say you can tell a lot about a person from their home and as Melissa talks, I kind of zone out and silently begin filing information about her in my head. The first thing that I can tell is that this place might just be a temporary thing for her. It doesn’t feel like someone’s home, like it’s lived in. The walls are bare, without any photos, which is surprising when there’s a cute kid involved. The beige, worn carpet beneath my feet has seen better days and has stains on it which might possibly be older than I am. The furniture, if any, is threadbare and functional. There are a few chairs scattered around a television that’s supported by a wooden crate and I suppose it works as a living room. Given that it’s a studio, the kitchen is within the same space and the counter is littered with takeout boxes and a whole lot of unopened mail. The bedroom and bathroom, like Cole’s, is separated by a wall that runs straight from the door to nearly half the apartment, further shrinking the space. The only pop of color in the otherwise grey and beige that seems to be the theme here is a little section of the apartment that looks as though it’s Lainey’s play and study area. There’s an adorable purple-and-pink adjoined set of a chair and desk and perhaps the only sign, aside from the scattered toys, that a little girl lives here. Melissa sees my line of sight and uncomfortably shifts as if embarrassed. I’m not judging her, God knows the kind of rat-infested matchbox I’d be living in in New York if it weren’t for my dad. All I’m doing is trying to get a sense of her as a person and from the looks of it, she’s either really unhappy here or just not into interior design.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Oh God no, please just sit. I know I’ve already imposed enough.” I gesture to the set or armchairs in the room instead of the couch because I’ve already entered this woman’s home unannounced, I don’t want to abduct her admittedly grim-looking couch. And no, I’m not here to have a throw down or to fight because firstly, I wouldn’t know how to and secondly, the more time I spend in Mel’s company, the more of an idea I’m starting to get as to why Cole is the way he is around her.

  “Right, okay.” She wipes her hands on her dress as though they’re just as clammy as mine are, and I wonder why she looks so worried and what is it that makes her so nervous around me. Unless she’s done something wrong, there’s no need to look quite this guilty.

  “You must be wondering why I’m here.”

  “Cole...he came home the other day and was obviously really upset. I knew it had something to do with what happened with me over Thanksgiving weekend because I got in the way of his plans. He hasn’t really talked to me about it so I don’t know what happened but yeah, I think I know what this has to do with.”

  It irks me when she claims that this is Cole’s home, as if the two of them share something. She might not mean it that way, but it feels as though I’m the one on the outside. And she knows that she destroyed our plans and must have known that we had some, given how guilty she looks, but it didn’t stop her from reaching out to Cole and asking him for help. It makes me wonder about the kind of role that my boyfriend has in her life and whether, unknowingly, Cole’s found himself making this mother-and-daughter pair dependent on him.

  “Well, no, things didn’t go as planned. In fact, we had a huge fight over it and I haven’t spoken to him in a week.”

  She flinches and her faces loses a little color. “I suspected that.”

  She doesn’t apologize, though.

  “I get that there might have been an emergency and that only he could help, but I’m having trouble understanding why it has to be a huge secret. We fought, but he’s been so tight-lipped about that day that there’s nowhere we can go from there. Cole, he tells me everything, so I don’t understand why he’s kept me in the dark about this, unless it’s got something to do with you.”

  I’d wanted to take a subtler approach and not outright accuse her, but the more I talked and let it out, the more anger I felt. Some might say that I could have chosen to be more tactful, but patience isn’t necessarily a virtue that I possess. So when I hear a sniff from her side, it takes a whole lot of effort for me to not roll my eyes. Is she crying? Did I honestly just make her cry? Never in my life did I think I’d be capable of reducing someone to tears, at least not intentionally.

  This is not going so well for me, is it?

  “Are you crying?” I sound slightly horrified, and when she looks up at me, I see the red-rimmed eyes and the splotchy cheeks. She wipes her face and I’m left in the awkward position where I question whether I should get her a tissue or get the hell out of here.

  “I’m sorry I’m crying, this is so embarrassing.”

  Oh, you bet it is.

  “It’s just that…” She hiccups and lets out what seems like a sob. I’m looking around the room, wondering how I can make a speedy exit without tripping over Legos and Barbie dolls.

  “Cole’s been so wonderful to Lainey and me and I’m so thankful to have him. I never wanted to cause trouble in his relationship.”

  Okay then, I’m so glad that she “has” him. But will someone for Christ’s sake please tell me why she’s on the verge of flooding the room with her constant stream of tears?

  “You must think I’m crazy.” She half laughs, half cries.

  Well, if she insists...

  “No, I don’t. I’m just extremely confused.”

  “As you should be, and again that’s my fault. I made Cole promise me that he wouldn’t tell anyone about...about my life and what goes on here. I didn’t plan for him to become a part of my crazy shit but somehow he just did.”

  That doesn’t sound dangerous at all. Oh Cole, what have you gotten yourself into?

  “I’m sorry, but I have no idea what’s going here. What does my boyfriend have to do with all of this? What exactly is going on here?”

  She takes a deep br
eath as if steeling herself to deliver a blow and I almost duck as if the attack is going to be physical. I’m sweltering in my coat and wish I’d taken it off along with my scarf. I want to do it now, so that I can cover myself with it and hide from this woman who’s just come out of nowhere and all of a sudden is everywhere in my life.

  “You have to know that I didn’t plan for this to happen.”

  That sound ominous. I think I’m having a heart attack. Isn’t the process supposed to be slower for women? Maybe if I run out, I won’t be lying dead on the floor.

  “Could you just get to the point.” My voice is shrill, veering on hysterical, and I find myself going back to that night so many years ago when Cole first broke my heart. I do my best to never revisit it and have been successfully doing so for many years, but it’s funny how one sentence can take you right back to a place you’ve avoided for so long.

  “I think it’s best if you hear the whole story.” She gets up from the chair and begins to pace in front of me, probably wearing a hole in the carpet. She’s almost shaking, and for the first time I wonder if she’s on something right now. She’s been on edge the entire time that I’ve been here, her emotions being all over the place. I’d seen a flash of anger in her face when I’d first shown up and it’d turned to fear and then sadness pretty quickly. I’m starting to get whiplash from all her emotions, and it hits me that I really don’t know much about this woman other than the fact that her life seems to be pretty troubled. It wasn’t really the wisest decision then to show up here without letting anyone know that I’d be here. I’d also timed my visit perfectly, knowing that Cole would be at work.