22. Wants Vs. Needs
22
WANTS VS. NEEDS
REX
For about the hundredth time, I watched every one of Chelsea’s Morning City Show segments leading up to Thanksgiving, torturing my soul with her face and sunshine. This role on TV was designed for her. She. Was. Perfection.
When she laughed, I laughed, every time. She used all sorts of descriptive adjectives for her food, and my mouth watered for a morsel, and for the taste of her. And when she talked about home, every fiber of my being wanted to exist in one with her.
A one-room home with a cozy bed was all I needed with Chelsea. We’d order food in, entertain each other, hold each other all night, make love— Love! In my mind, I said I love you to her every day since I fucked it all up, not realizing what I had until it was gone.
“What have I done?” I groaned. I was a complete ass to Chelsea and didn’t deserve her.
Jeez, I’d turned into Archer—a brooding, pining prick. Now I had another thing to feel guilty about since I had little sympathy for Archer back when he went through his first breakup with Brianne. I owed him a huge apology.
There was no way around the predicament Marlena forced me into. I put her off as long as I could, but she threatened to call the police on Chelsea again unless we finally announced the news of our pending—and fake—marriage to our families on Thanksgiving day.
Fine. I deserved this. I’d take it as my punishment for what I did to Chelsea, but the guilt…oh the fucking guilt ate at me.
I clicked pause on the television screen and hauled up from my desk. Standing in front of Chelsea’s frozen frame, I touched the back of my hand right on the cheek of the image of her. How desperate I felt to touch her flesh again, to kiss her lips, to be inside of her.
The woman did something to me and turned me into a mess. I was once a thriving playboy without a care in the world. Now? I was a pathetic fucking asshole.
There was only one way to resolve this, to ease my mind, or I’d go crazy. I needed a drink— several of them. Since Marlena, the evil witch, held me under her thumb, getting drunk was my coping mechanism.
I grabbed my coat and about rushed out of the office, but in my haste, I toppled over the model of the lobby redesign Archer and Brooks created. “Shit.”
I placed the marble slab back on the table and stared at it long and hard. Then it hit me.
I flew to Pearl’s desk, barking orders.
“Call Archer. Tell him to redesign the lobby to include the deli.”
“Sure, you got it.” She picked up the earpiece of the phone.
“Only tell him to do whatever he has to do to double the size.” I yanked my coat on.
“Right.”
“And tell him I’m footing the bill to remodel the entire deli for Chelsea. Anything she wants, she gets.” I punched the elevator button.
“Okay.”
“One more thing. Redo the deli lease in Chelsea’s name, for twenty years, at the original lease price my dad set up with Doug. Get her to sign it.”
“What? Really? Oh, okay. Only there’s one problem.”
Leave it to Pearl to throw a wrench into my plans. I faced her and sighed, irritated at her as usual.
“What?” I placed extra emphasis on the t.
“Your mother hasn’t approved of your plans to remodel yet, has she?”
Shit. I grimaced. Soon though, when Marlena dragged me by a ball and chain to the altar, I’d get to remodel the lobby. And wasn’t that what I wanted? I stepped onto the elevator, not at all sure anymore.
“Where are you going?” Pearl called.
“I have an important appointment to keep,” I yelled as the door closed.
“Suz! You didn’t let me down. You’re here.” My words slurred. I’d been sitting at the country bar since noon and now it was…five o’clock…maybe? I could barely read the digits on my phone.
“Yeah. Hi. I took up your offer. And here’s a certificate from a program I completed at my community center to stop smoking.” She proudly passed the sheet across the bar top to me.
“Awesome. That’s so great. Come here.” I gave her a hug, even though she was a little standoffish, but I didn’t care. I was drunk.
I lost Chelsea.
I ruffled Suz’s short spiky hair, and she looked pissed, but smiled anyway. Out of my breast pocket, I produced a thick envelope and handed it to her. “Here. Twenty thousand. Spend it wisely.” I saluted Dad in Heaven with my drink, continuing my good deeds in my own way, happy that I saved another soul like Suz, adding years to her life. I slammed back whatever was left in the shot glass in front of me.
“Are…you okay?” She side-eyed me.
“Yeah, super. I lost the best woman that ever happened to me. But shit, you quit smoking. Let’s celebrate. Bartender! This girl just quit smoking. Another round for the entire place on me.”
Only a handful of people were here at this hour drinking, and they all cheered.
“Wait. Do you mean you lost Chelsea? What happened?” She took up the barstool and appeared genuinely interested.
“I fucked that up royally.” My elbow landed on the bar and I dropped my head in my hand. “She’ll never talk to me again. I’m such a stupid idiot.” I hammered the bar with my other fist.
“Hey, knock that off or I’ll kick you out,” the bartender barked.
“Fine. Sorry.”
“Um, listen. I’ll be right back, okay? I have to make a call.” Suz jumped off her barstool and rushed away.
“Sure. You come back and we’ll have another round and celebrate you being smoke free. Another year of livin’. Woo. Here’s to you.” I put the shot glass to my lips but realized it was empty. “Bartender…another.”
“Dude. I gotta cut you off,” he said. Todd was on his name tag, or maybe Dodd. My eyes were too blurry to count the accurate number of Ds.
“I’ll have a thousand bucks tip for you. Pour the damn round. It’s only money. What do I care about it anymore? I don’t care about anything. Without Chelsea, life means nothing. Nothing. I fucked it all up.”
I sat at the bar a while, wallowing, and no further drinks came my way, no matter how much money I offered Dodd-with-morals. My mind recounted with blurred vision every second of that last night with Chelsea on the rooftop, listing every single thing I did wrong with her.
“Why does hindsight have to be such a bitch?” I rubbed my eyes. “What the hell was wrong with me?”
I knew what. I broke The Playboy Code #1. Never fall for a one-night stand. I did anyway. Chelsea blew into town and messed with my heart, and now I had nothing.
I hurt her for what? A fucking building. “Tear the whole goddamn thing down,” I shouted to no one. The bartender’s face reddened. I hung my head and closed my eyes, drunk, pissed, sad.
With no sense of timing, how long I sat there a mystery, but suddenly someone appeared on the barstool next to me and slapped me on the back. I peeked over with one eye open, barely able to make out my brother. “Rich?”
“Hey. How are you doing? By the looks of it, not well.” He grimaced.
“I didn’t know this bar was your scene. You have cowboy boots on?”
“It’s not. Someone named Suz called someone named Maisy, who then called Brooks to come get you. Only he was busy and passed the buck to me.” He slapped my back again. “Guess we have some catching up to do. What’s going on with you, dude?”
“I lost something.”
“Sanity, dignity, money, what?”
“A woman.”
“A woman?” He chuckled. “Bartender? I’m going to need two shots of your best whiskey for me just to get through this.”
We waited for the drinks, and I licked my lips, watching him slam the first shot back, dying for another. “ Okay, I’m ready. How did Rex Maximillion Buchanan, New York’s biggest playboy, lose a woman?”
“Through my own stupidity. She’s the most beautiful thing to ever land in the city and I fucked it up. Mom said she’d let me remodel the building if I got married. So I propositioned Chelsea, and she turned me down.”
“Propositioned? Oh-ho.” He howled. “What, like a fake marriage? Jeez, if Miriam found out it was fake, she’d lock you out of the building.”
“That’s the thing, though. It wasn’t fake. I think I wanted it to be real. But it’s too late now.”
“Too late? You’re giving up?”
“You didn’t see the look on Chelsea’s face.”
“Come on. We’re Buchanan’s. We don’t stop in the face of adversity. We keep going. If there’s something we want?—”
“We take it, I know, I know. That’s what got me into trouble in the first place.” I sighed and swayed, the bar spinning now. “But sometimes what we want isn’t what we need.”
Wow, that actually made a ton of sense to my drunken brain.
“You’re really going deep, dude. How many drinks have you had tonight?” Rich was far too amused by my predicament to be of any help.
“Not enough.” There would never be enough alcohol to fill the gaping hole in my heart.
“Look, if you really want her, don’t give up.”
Somehow, his words both encouraged and saddened me at the same time. He was right, though. I shouldn’t give up on her. She was the best thing that ever happened to me.
But…was I the best thing that ever happened to her?