Chapter Twenty
Twenty
Ten minutes later, she pounded on his door with thunderous vehemence. “Open up, Tyler Demming.”
The door swung open, and there stood Tyler, cool as ever.
“You!” she seethed. “You’ve got a lot of nerve!”
“Me? I wasn’t the one standing on the balcony flashing the neighbors.”
“Not that.” She stormed past him and it was just as she had suspected. A grand living room fed off toward the main bed and bath, and on the other side, a lock-off. A separate spare bedroom! With a broad gesture, she indicated the excess. “This. Two rooms! For one person. What the hell, Tyler?”
“What are you wearing?” Tyler deflected.
“Don’t try to change the subject.”
“No, really.” He made a circular motion with his finger indicating her outfit. “What is this?”
After the unfortunate incident, which her brain would henceforth refer to as the Towel Fiasco, Lulu realized that her bag had not yet been delivered to her aunt’s room, and her travel clothes were too stanky to don.
And so, impatient to confront the prickleballer next door, she hunted around until she found Laverne’s neatly folded clothes in the dresser.
Lulu glanced down at the pink and green paisley golf shirt and the matching lime-colored polyester pants and made a mental note to take Laverne shopping at the earliest opportunity.
“This”—she gestured at the outfit—“is what happens when a person with a gigantic ego has no consideration for the needs of the little people.”
“Okay. First. I don’t think you’re little at all. As you’ve recently demonstrated, certain parts of you are particularly well-endowed,” he said, not bothering to hide the glance at her paisley-covered chest. “And second, I have no idea what you’re talking about. But please, make yourself at home.”
“I am talking about this!” She gestured grandly at his oversized hotel suite. “Booking up two adjoining rooms for one person…when the hotel is full!”
“Full? Oh. I didn’t do the actual booking. This was booked for me.”
“Well, you’ve left me and Zoe without a room, and I hope you’re happy.
” The latter part of his statement settled on her.
“Why would someone book you into a double room?” Then as quickly as it was out of her mouth, she recognized her folly.
And when Tyler’s cheeks flushed with color, she knew she had it right.
Oh my god. Olivia the girlfriend was coming. Wasn’t this just the icing on the Tyler-Demming-does-whatever-the-fuck-he-wants cake? The girlfriend who was arriving probably any minute now to find the non-girlfriend, Lulu, standing around like paisley curtains in a preppy nightmare.
Her nostrils flared. There was no sense in holding back any longer. “Olivia? Is that who booked this? Olivia of the many texts? And the ‘I can’t wait to see you, too’? That Olivia?”
“Olivia?” Like he had never heard that name before. Then his eyes flashed with surprise. “Oh. Yes.”
Was he screwing with her right now? Just messing with her to see how she would react if he spent the better part of a week wooing her into his den of decadence and desire and then walloped her with a big, fat “ha-ha, just kidding”?
Not that she was falling for him. Not that once again he’d suckered her into believing that he cared about her, that there was something genuine between them. Surely, he couldn’t be for real.
Tilting his head in confusion, Tyler said, “Wait. How do you know about Olivia?”
“The woman you’ve been texting? Uh. Yes. I couldn’t help but overhear how much you missed her and couldn’t wait to see her.”
“Olivia?” He genuinely pulled off the look of astonishment.
“Olivia,” he said slowly, “is an eleven-year-old pickleballer who just finished her bone marrow transplant treatment. Her family is celebrating and they wanted to do something nice for me, so they booked me this celebrity suite. I think they feel bad that I got booted off the tour fulfilling their daughter’s wishes.
You know, lighting the paddles? I promised her if I won at Nationals, I’d… well, you know the rest.”
Lulu swallowed. That video he made juggling fire, the one that cost him his shot at this year’s tour? That was a promise to her?! An eleven-year-old. Who just made it through a bone marrow transplant.
Crap.
“Wait. Did you think Olivia was…” His lids widened with recognition. “My girlfriend?”
Okay, now that he put it out there, she was embarrassed. And to be real, kinda mad that she was in this vulnerable position where it looked like she had been jealous. Because she had not been jealous. Definitely. Not. Jealous.
“Lu.” He took a step toward her, his fingers reaching out to her hand, which she dropped to her side. “Lu,” he said again, beseeching this time. “My girlfriend? But I thought we…” His forehead furrowed.
They stared each other down for a second. Then, shaking his head, Tyler gave an incredulous laugh. “What do you think of me?”
Her lips parted. She rolled back the tape, revisiting her myriad overreactions and petty jealousies over the last week. And it occurred to her that perhaps she had been the one behaving like an absolute asshat this entire trip.
“Lu?” he asked and shook his head at the marble floor.
“What is the deal with you? I mean, isn’t it obvious?
I like you. I always have. You,” he emphasized, pointing at the whole package, lime green pants and all.
“I fell for you all those years ago and I— Well, I’m just gonna lay it out there.
I still feel it. I never stopped feeling it.
I know we argue. I know we’re not always on the same page, but that’s because we’re passionate people, you and me.
And I don’t want to be with someone boring.
I want to be with someone who makes me think.
Who makes me try to be a better me. You make me feel different than I’ve ever felt with anyone else.
With you, it’s like I’m more…” He searched for the words.
“Just…more. That’s right, isn’t it? The way we balance each other? ”
They stood there, facing each other, Lulu feeling that tug toward him, that magnetic pull she thought she’d locked away years ago.
Her body, unbidden, inclined toward his.
“You can tell me I’m wrong, but I think you feel the same about me.
What else can I say to convince you that my feelings for you are real? I promise they are.”
Lulu’s whole being had been wavering against her own good sense, but at the mention of a promise, a sad smile pressed against her cheeks.
“I’d like to believe that,” she said, the old hurt rearing in her chest. She wanted to get it out of her body and into the air.
“But it’s not the first time you made me a promise. ”
His eyes softened, and she wondered if he, too, was picturing it, lying head to head on the tennis court pavement, and Tyler, boosting himself up onto his elbow.
Running a finger down her breastbone and pressing the promise into her heart.
Unconsciously, her hand moved to her chest, and she touched the spot where he had laid his vow.
Tyler’s gaze flicked to her heart. “Lu,” he whispered. “I know I screwed up, but can’t we…” His fingers reached toward the pink polyester at her elbow, but he stopped. “Come on,” he said gently. “That was years ago. You’ve got to understand. I had other obligations to keep.”
Pressing her lips into a thin line, Lulu measured his expression.
“Yeah. So you’ve said.” She didn’t bother to mask her disappointment, because she relished it.
It shielded her from the other feelings that boiled so hotly beneath the surface.
From the hope she had nurtured that he was a guy who could take responsibility for his actions. That things had changed.
The truth was that this week, she had seen a new side of him, a side that was sweet and playful and vulnerable. And it appealed to her. No. That word was too soft. The new-and-improved pieces of Tyler Demming could, down the line, lead a girl to the l word.
And yet. “Other obligations” resounded in her head. A man who could not be transparent, who could not step out of his ego long enough to take responsibility for his actions, was not a man Lulu Gardner could sign up for. “I think I should go.”
“Lu,” he tried. But the set of her jaw did not shift. He exhaled, his fingers massaging his brow. “Alright.” He shrugged, resigned. “If that’s what you want.”
It wasn’t. It wasn’t what she wanted. Not at all.
As she pulled the door shut behind her, she imagined him folding her into his arms, murmuring into her ear, saying sorry and meaning it and wanting to work past it with her.
Together. And as she headed back to Laverne’s room, she wanted him to call out and stop her.
She wanted him to say he was a fool for not supporting her after her parents’ death, and for disappearing, and for caring more about his fame than about her pain.
Why, after this week of rekindling and unraveling, and fighting and kissing, and being furious and desiring, couldn’t he say he was sorry, so they could remove that splinter from her toe and just move on?
Why couldn’t he give her that piece of contrition that would cost him nothing but would heal so much in her?
And why, she wondered, did she need it so badly?
And then she understood. That weight in her head that still resisted him, that heavy chain would tear like paper if she could just let go of the blame she had nurtured all those years.
The only way to break free of it was forgiveness.
And maybe what she was searching for wasn’t about waiting on a fifteen-year-old apology.
Maybe it was time to put on her big-girl pants, get out of her head, and find forgiveness for herself.
Beneath it all, she just needed to let go. Dragging her feet on the plush carpet, she trudged back to her aunt’s room, drenched in conflict. She knew it was counterintuitive. She knew it made no sense. But her heart wanted, really wanted, to move forward so she could love Tyler Demming again.