Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Seth
Turns out, Ripley is an asshole. Possibly a bigger one than me, and that’s saying something.
He’s been throwing jabs the entire dinner, and not just at me, at Thea too.
He asked about Iris like she isn’t a sensitive topic.
I don’t consider myself a great friend, but even I wouldn’t bring up someone’s ex this close to their wedding.
I’m seeing a new side of him, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I know he’s acting out because he’s mad at me, but I’ve pissed him off before, and he never seemed immature about it. Not like this.
Despite the animosity, my focus has still been on him all night.
He’s too fucking breathtaking for his own good.
His inky black curls look disheveled like the stress from the night is causing them to act out.
His square-framed glasses sit perched on his nose, slightly skewed, framing his piercing green eyes.
Every time his Adam’s apple bobs, my heart rate increases, and my eyes trail down to those damn silver necklaces he’s always wearing.
As I revel in stealing glances at him, itching for him to stand so I can see the sliver of skin showing at his mid-drift, he’s busy throwing daggers my way.
I’ve somehow made him more angry at every turn, making the whole dinner a shit-show.
No matter the topic of conversation, he’s somehow twisted it into another reason to make me think he hates me.
Somehow Ripley knowing me and my routine enough to notice my discomfort only makes it worse.
The smart thing would be to ignore it. Ignore him.
Ignore the pit in the bottom of my stomach every time I see sadness reflected in his eyes.
Or even act affronted by the accusation that I’m so uptight I need a “bedtime,” as he put it.
Instead, I’ve made myself look suspicious by pulling him to the distillery for a “tour.” I couldn’t take it anymore.
The obvious laughter Thea was holding in, the death glares from Ripley, it was all too much.
“What the fuck, West?” he spits in my direction after yanking his arm away like my touch causes him physical pain. The doors behind him linking the two areas are still swinging as they close.
“Me?” I ask, shaking my head. Lowering my voice, I continue, “Why are you being such an asshole? And why is Thea snickering at everything? Why does she seem to know about… our history? Did you tell her?” I’m pacing as I speak, pulling at the ends of my hair, trying not to go into a full panic.
I swear, it looked like Thea knew. But Thea knowing would mean Cary knows, and he seemed oblivious to everything happening around him.
He’d spent ten minutes talking about how fucking great I am.
Surely trying to win over Thea, but he has no idea he’s digging my grave.
“Thea knows about West,” he says, face stone-cold, hands shoved into his pockets. My irrational brain is telling me it’s so he doesn’t reach for me, but the logical side is shouting he wouldn’t want to after finding out who I am. He’s probably glad I turned him down now.
“So you did tell her about me,” I confirm, one step closer to the edge of my sanity.
“You,” he starts as he walks closer to me, pushing his finger into my chest, making me crane my neck up to look him in the eye, “aren’t him. I don’t know who you are, but you aren’t West. You’re some washed-out, prude version of the man I thought I knew.”
His face is so close to mine, all I’d have to do is rise on my tiptoes and our lips would touch.
If his words didn’t sting so badly, maybe I would.
But he’s sliced me open. Anyone else and I’d be able to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut, but not with him.
No, with him, any vitriol he slings my way cuts deep, I feel like I might bleed out on the floor of this distillery.
He doesn’t know the real reason I pushed him away, keeping him at arm’s length, only letting him closer when I’m too weak to deny myself.
He’s one of two people who knows the real me, and I’ve somehow convinced him it was all a lie.
I’ve never once been dishonest with him, I’ve opened up and told him things I’ve never voiced out loud.
And he’s calling me a wash-out? Claiming he doesn’t know me anymore?
The sudden rush of heartache is too much to handle.
Planting my hands on his chest, I shove him away from me, anything to avoid looking into his mossy green eyes any longer. Seeing my own pain reflected back at me isn’t something I’m interested in.
As I stalk away, he shouts, “Doing what you do best, walking away when things deviate from whatever fucked up plan you have in your head.”
I don’t turn around, I don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing his words affect me.
The fucked up part is the only thing I’ve ever walked away from is him and clearly not for the reason he thinks.
He’s gotten it in his head I’m not willing to put in the work, like this thing between us not going my way is the reason I’m not fighting for him.
The truth is worse because the hard shit doesn’t scare me, only the easy things.
And falling in love with him? Allowing myself to really feel what I’m desperate to feel with him?
It would all be entirely too easy, effortless. And that’s fucking terrifying.
When I get back to the table, I realize Brooks is here now.
Great.
He’s another one I don’t care to deal with. And it’s almost nine-forty-five now. I may not like Ripley knowing me as well as he does, but he wasn’t wrong. My skin is crawling knowing I’m not going to bed anytime soon.
I sit in my seat, attempting to catch what they’re talking about and compartmentalizing my shit with Ripley.
“—that should be interesting,” Brooks says.
“What will be interesting?” I ask.
Thea smiles, looking entirely too excited for my comfort. “Brooks asked about the Jack and Jill party we want to have, and I told him you and Ripley will be planning it together.”
Fuck. Me.
The conversation with Cary from months ago comes back into the forefront of my mind.
He’d told me the best man and maid of honor were meant to plan the party.
That’s when he’d told me Thea’s best friend, Ripley, is her “man of honor.” I didn’t have much of an opinion about it at the time, but now I want to scream no, tell them how much I hate the idea of working so closely with Ripley.
It’ll give me too many reasons to spend time with him and too many opportunities to convince myself I could have him.
Picking up my drink, I try not to let my face show how much I want to back out of this and fly back home as I sling back the rest of the glass.
“Where’s Ripley?” Thea asks, looking toward the doors to the distillery.
“Oh, uh, I think he said he had to use the restroom.”
“So,” Brooks starts, “Seth, I hear you’re going to help us get this B&B off the ground?”
“That’s the goal,” I say, trying to keep my voice even as Ripley saunters back to the table, his eyes shifting over to Brooks. He looks relieved to see him.
“He’s got a real knack for the business side of things, plus he knows us and the industry,” Cary says, once again hyping me up at a time I would rather not get the recognition.
“The bed-and-breakfast industry?” Brooks asks.
As I respond, “No,” I hear Ripley mumble something about knowing my way around hotels under his breath. Luckily, everyone else is focused on the desserts arriving at the table.
“Mostly the restaurant side of it,” I clarify, ignoring Ripley’s attempt to tell everyone our business.
“Speaking of, I brought the reports I put together based on the data you sent over, Cary. And I also made a schedule so the project stays on track, as well as a profit forecast for RED with the added amenity of the B&B. Oh, and a list of things we need to do while I’m here so everything is handled before I go back to Seattle. ”
Cary and Thea nod along as I pull the papers from the briefcase I brought with me, laying out the plans I spent the afternoon putting together as I tried my best not to think about the man sitting next to me.
“This guy? Really?” Brooks whispers to Ripley as he hooks a thumb in my direction, making my blood boil. Did he tell everyone he fucking knows? Brooks is discreet enough, and Cary and Thea are preoccupied, but Ripley’s eyes dart to me.
His cheeks redden, and a part of me is satisfied knowing he’s embarrassed about being caught. His spiel in the distillery hurt, but it’s clear his feelings are more complicated than he let on.
“Seth, this is…” Thea starts, dragging her eyes along the projections I have laid out. “So impressive and helpful.”
I use the opportunity to ignore my issues, diving into the work I came here for.
“Thank you. From what I can gather, this should be a huge success. I’m happy to be a part of it.
” Okay, it’s a partial lie, but despite what others may think, I’m really trying with Thea.
I know it looks like I’m not to Cary because my inability to function with Ripley around is coming off as me being rude to her, but truly, I am trying.
Thea looks like she may cry, which is my cue to call it a night. Despite it being three hours earlier in Seattle, I stay on schedule wherever I am. It’s how I combat jetlag and sleep deprivation when traveling.
“Ripley was right though,” I say as I glance in his direction, “I do have an early wake up time, and it is getting late, so I should go.”
Thea flips her phone over to see the time, it’s almost ten-thirty now. “Oh my goodness! I didn’t realize how late it’d gotten. Of course. Will we see you tomorrow? I’d love to discuss the party plans some more.”
I’d rather die.
“Sure. I’ll text Cary in the morning.” Pulling my phone out, I open a rideshare app. My brows furrow as I realize there are no drivers available. “This town doesn’t have rideshare after ten?” I ask the table, and I’m met with grimaces from everyone