21. Gemma
Chapter 21
Gemma
I watch with cautious amusement as Ainsley disappears into the kitchen to help Taylor. I’m sure it wasn’t his first choice, but the living room of women seemed to be a more daunting undertaking.
When he first arrived and came face to face with Marisol, my roommate and his secret tarot reader from the shop, I thought he might panic, but when he realized she wasn’t going to sell him out, he relaxed. He did choose to throw himself to the beast that is Taylor in his kitchen rather than risk making small talk and having his dirty secret exposed, though.
I collapse onto the purple velvet sofa next to Marisol, preparing myself for the onslaught of opinions.
I don’t have to wait long.
“Girl, you’re going to hell for hogging those two men. You better choose one and throw the other back for one of us to catch.”
I grin over at Lana and shake my head. “Who would you choose? ”
She just shakes her head. “Impossible. I’d make them choose.”
“What if you didn’t have to?”
I get a pillow thrown at me for that statement, courtesy of Eva. “I don’t know what kind of magic you’re working, girl, but you need to share those spells.”
“It’s not a spell,” I start thoughtfully, glancing toward the doorway to the kitchen and imagining the two of them in there together. I thought it was brave of Ainsley to offer to help with dinner when Taylor had in no way asked or insinuated that he wanted help, but I adore that he’s making such an effort. “Maybe it’s luck.”
“Whatever it is, you could teach a course on it and make millions,” Marisol offers.
“She doesn’t need to make millions anymore, though. That new stud is dripping money. I can feel it in his aura,” Eva quips back.
Everyone laughs, and I throw the pillow back at her. She catches it and shrugs. “Just saying.”
“You don’t need to do an aura reading to know that. It is obvious when you look at him. It’s the shoes, I think,” Lana offers.
“And the way those jeans hug his ass? There’s no way those came off the rack at Goodwill.”
All the women murmur in agreement, and I smile at all the dreamy looks in their eyes, knowing they’re imagining Ainsley’s butt.
“We saw his dick the other night,” Lana says out of nowhere, causing us all to burst into surprised laughter.
“Don’t you dare bring that up at dinner,” I threaten, but I know those two are going to do as they please.
“He knows. He saw us, too,” she replies with a mischievous smile.
“When he came back in my room, he asked if the house was haunted.” I’m laughing so hard I can barely get the words out.
“We have that effect on people,” Eva answers, not a bit bothered by the fact that Ainsley thought they were ghosts.
The twins do have an otherworldly appearance and look so much alike that they’ve been successfully pulling off identity swapping since childhood. They have the most incredible stories about taking each other’s tests, going to each other’s job interviews, and even on a few occasions showing up on each other’s dates when one of the twins was sick.
“I’m trying not to scare this one off, okay? So, help me out.”
“I highly doubt any of us are going to be doing the scaring in this situation. I can’t believe you sent him in there with Taylor, unsupervised. He’s either going to end up in tears, or on his knees with a dick in his mouth.”
Another round of laughter erupts out of the group, but this time I’m not joining in. I want so badly for this all to work out, for the two of them to find their way to each other, it seems disingenuous to laugh about it. I’ve been known to tempt a few things in life, but fate isn’t one of them.
“They’re working it out,” I say when I can be heard over the laughter.
“I’m sure they are,” Marisol starts, a faraway look in her eyes. “They’re yin and yang. Light and dark. When they finally notch together, it’s going to be fire. Just try not to be the one who gets burned.”
I give her statement the silent consideration it deserves. Marisol is the sage of the group, lifelong studier of tarot and divination, professional mystic. If she’s offering a prophecy, you sit up and listen.
“You think they’re going to find their way?” I ask finally .
She cocks her head to the side, considering, eyes drifting off to some unseen part of the ether. “I think you can’t show them.”
That’s what I was afraid of.
“I was so excited when I saw him that night at the bar. It felt like everything was falling into place.”
“But you don’t know what place it is you want. How can you know where you want things to fall?”
I suck in a breath as she rightly calls me out. No one knows my secret dilemma better than Marisol, my mentor and best friend. “I don’t know how to tell Taylor the truth.”
She nods seriously. “You don’t have to.”
My relief is overwhelming, but short lived.
“But he’s going to find out.”
I look down at my hands, feeling all eyes on me, waiting for me to answer. I have no idea what to say.
I know he’s going to find out. That’s hardly a revelation. And I know I have to be the one to tell him.
But I also know that when I do, I lose.
I’ve known Taylor for a long time. I know his heart, what drives him.
And I know that when it comes down to it, he’s not going to choose me.Am I horrible for putting off that reality for as long as I can?
“I just want it all to work out,” I manage to say finally.
Marisol nods. “It will.”
“But what if I lose him?” The question comes out a whisper, one I’m not sure I even mean to speak aloud at all.
“If you aren’t forthcoming, you’ve already lost.”
“And if I am forthcoming, I lose.”
“It’s possible we need to do some work around the idea of loss.”
Anger flares in me at her words. “Loss is loss. I don’t need to work on it. My whole life has been shaped by loss. It’s just one loss after another. Is it really so bad that I want to avoid this one?”
Marisol knows me well enough not to take my outburst personally. Her face is nothing but calm kindness as she reads my verdict. “If you wanted to avoid the loss, Gemma, you would stay. You are choosing the loss. That’s what you need to come to terms with.”
Tears prick in my eyes, and I shake my head, brushing them away. I feel so stupid allowing this conversation to go so deep tonight, threatening to ruin what should be a fun evening with my friends and lovers.
I turn back to the twins, who have been watching our exchange in polite silence. “Help me not let this evening suck, okay? I want it to be fun, and now I’m thinking about all this depressing shit.”
I watch as identical sly grins spread over the faces of my ethereally beautiful roommates.
“We’ll be happy to help.”