Chapter 37
CONNOR
Lying on my stomach with my head resting against folded arms, Julia’s hands push into the muscle of my back. Her thumbs work deep into my skin in circles that soothe, that could almost make me fall asleep right on the spot.
Like my last birthday, my expectations weren’t high for this one. I would turn thirty-three and the world would just keep turning the same way that it always had. Part of me expected this morning’s cake delivery to be the only acknowledgment that I’d receive today.
With a roll of her hips against my back, Julia pulls me from my thoughts.
“Tripp told me that you wouldn’t have asked me to do that because of…” she hesitates, like if she finishes the sentence, if she says that name, I’ll combust right beneath her.
“He’s right,” I tell her, my words feeding more into the skin of my forearm than they do the air. Her thighs tighten on either side of my body, her skin warm against mine.
Her weight shifts as she lowers herself to press a soft kiss to my cheek, her thumbs gliding up to dig into my traps.
“Will you tell me about it sometime?” She asks, her voice dropping in volume. “Whatever she got wrong, I don’t want to do when we do this again.”
I let out a laugh into the bend of my arm, jostling her body on top of mine as my eyes crack open.
“You wouldn’t; you and Toni are two entirely different people,” I tell her earnestly. “You did it because you wanted to; it was a chore for her.”
I blow out a breath as her thumbs press deeper into my muscle, loosening knots that I didn’t even know existed.
“It’s not some long, arduous story or anything,” I tell her.
“I asked her to at least use a little bit of spit; she said that spitting was disgusting and there was no way she was doing that. I made it maybe forty-five seconds before I told her to get off of me, and I didn’t let anyone touch me for six months after that. ”
A choking sound pushes through her throat, all of her movements stopping.
Maybe it’s a memory that she’s entitled to, but it isn’t one that I like to revisit. That night was a bridge too far, the final nail in our proverbial coffin. It was the moment that solidified for me that I wasn’t a person to either of them; not in the ways that really mattered.
I was a toy to be shared and discarded.
“I would never do that to you,” she says feebly. “We would never.”
“I know that,” I assure her.
Using his foot to push open the door, Tripp finally rejoins us in the bedroom. He’s balancing three plates between his arms, two of them accompanied by forks. The third is hanging out of his mouth, which has a tint of blue at the corner, left from the frosting that he hasn’t yet wiped clean.
“Eat your cake while it’s still your birthday,” he orders through teeth trying desperately to hold onto their stainless steel captive.
Reaching for the nightstand, I pull my phone from it and click on the power to its screen.
“My birthday was over five minutes ago,” I tell him.
“Fuck.” Dropping into the space next to me with a teasing giggle from Jules, he offers her one of the plates before handing another to me. “You know what? Doesn’t count ‘til after you sleep.”
The cool ceramic of Julia’s plate meets the skin of my back as she uses my body as a table. Tripp uses his fork to slice his already-half-eaten cake into two, shoveling a massive piece into his mouth like a caveman as I scrape the frosting off of the top of mine to eat it first.
Everyone knows that the frosting is the best part, even if they won’t admit it out loud.
“I’m sorry our plans got messed up, Honey,” Jules coos, but I shake my head in response.
“I’m not.” She raises her plate and her body as I roll onto my back, so I can look them both in the eye. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to go from being a glorified accessory to having two people I love coming up with a night that I would like? That you even thought about it?”
“I guess I should write Toni and Brian a thank you note for putting the bar on the fucking floor for us,” Tripp teases.
As he laughs at his own joke and Julia leans down to meet me in a soft kiss, I wait.
For the moment that it changes. For it to become too much, too fast.
For them to suddenly become too much.
I run. It’s what I do. My sister knows it, my friends know it, I know it.
Please, don’t make me run from them.
The heel of my palm swipes against the bridge of my nose, the other wrapping the slack of Koda’s leash tighter around my hand as I let out a frustrated grunt at the too-high humidity in the air today.
“Uh-uh,” I say with a gentle tug to his collar as he gets too worked up as we near the house. “Easy, Koda.”
His head whips in my direction, his tongue lolling out to the side as those big brown eyes stare back at me as if to say, ‘what, I’m just excited.’
Tripp is on the driveway, using the hose from the front yard to fill a bucket of water with thick, foaming suds, offering a spray of water for Koda to jump through as we approach. The Forester is parked on the cement, and music plays from a speaker in the garage to spill out of its open door.
Tripp’s chest is bare, leaving ink and toned muscle on display, his lower half donning a rarely-seen pair of athletic shorts in place of his usual destroyed jeans.
“Good walk?” He calls to me.
Koda’s ears perk up as if another walk has just been offered to him, and I huff a laugh.
“Yeah.” Taking the dog to the door, I unclip his leash and let him into the house before returning to Tripp on the driveway, tucking my hands into my pockets as I approach him. “Can I ask you about something?”
His gaze snaps to mine as he dips a sponge into his soapy bucket, squeezing suds onto the hood of the car.
“Sure,” he tells me with a thoughtful frown. “What’s up?”
“It’s just, uh…maybe it was nothing, but—” I hesitate, letting my hand scrub against the back of my neck. “You called Jules our wife last night.”
“Did I? Huh.” He shrugs. “What are you thinking for dinner tonight?”
“You’re ignoring me.”
“I’m not ignoring you,” he argues, dipping his sponge back into the bucket of soapy water, “I’m asking where you want to go for dinner.”
My brows draw together, my eyes narrowing at him, and I shift to cross my arms over my chest.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned that Tripp Montgomery cannot do very well, it’s keep a secret. There’s only ever been the one that he’s been able to hold in for any considerable amount of time.
And judging by the looks shot to me in his peripheral and the way that he’s dodging my questions, he’s trying to keep a secret from me right now. It makes a two-ton weight settle into the bottom of my gut.
“Why do we have to go somewhere?” I brave asking. “Why can’t we reheat the chicken from Wednesday?”
“Because we didn’t go last night,” he tells me. His hand glides across the door of the SUV, covering it in foamy suds with a sideways glance in my direction. “What?”
“I don’t like it when you’re cagey,” I answer.
“I’m not being fucking cagey.” Tossing the soppy sponge onto the hood of the car, he closes the distance between us, taking hold of my chin before he presses his lips to mine. “Pick a place.”
Not two tons.
Three.
Studying him as he seamlessly returns to his task, now scrubbing at the car’s headlights, I turn on my heel and pass through the garage with a huff.
“Tripp’s being cagey,” I call into the house as I step through the door which leads from the garage, and he shouts his disagreement through the door as it slams shut behind me. “He won’t answer my questions. He just keeps telling me to pick a place to go for dinner.”
“You better pick one, then,” Jules smiles over her shoulder. Pulling a bottle of lemonade from the refrigerator in front of her, she closes the door and moves to a cabinet to get a glass. “Somewhere nice, though, so I can wear my new dress.”
My lips purse, my eyes narrowing. “The one you’ve been saving for a special occasion.”
“Just humor us,” she tells me as she fills her glass. “It’s your first birthday with us. Let us make it special.”
Putting the bottle back into the refrigerator and with a glass in hand, her hip bumps against mine as she leaves the kitchen and makes her way toward the stairs. As she nears the corner, she tucks a length of hair behind her ear, throwing me a soft smile that warms my chest.
The sound of clicking high heels pull my focus from my wrist as I secure the silver band of my watch around it, and I turn my attention to Julia as she stuffs her cell phone into a small clutch bag and secures it with a golden lock at the front.
Thin straps hold her dress over her shoulders, with soft, flowy pieces of fabric draped around her arms. In contrast to her usual style, her hair is devoid of its bow tonight, instead pinned over one shoulder.
Loose curls spill over and she fluffs them at the ends as she smiles at me, her teeth sparkling against the berry-colored lipstick that she’s wearing.
In what can only be described as a complete contrast to Julia, Tripp is dressed in all black. Black shoes, black slacks, black belt around his hips; even his tie and oxford are black. He looks like a living, breathing shadow, and he would probably love it if I told him that.
A look passes between them, forcing the corner of Tripp’s mouth to quirk, and he spins the keys to the Forester around his index finger.
“Let’s load up the cage and get the fuck out of here,” he tells us.
Neither of them will look at me when we climb into the car – Tripp behind the wheel and Julia taking a seat in the back, rather than sitting shot gun – nor while we’re on the road.
Despite the secretive and all-knowing smiles that they throw at each other in the rear view, a feeling of unease settles into a pit in my stomach while we drive.
My skin itches beneath my shirt, where the seat belt has me trapped. My throat feels tight, and I find myself looking out of the window, almost in search of an escape. My hand wraps around the handle of the door and I shift my hips in my seat.