7. Kaitlyn
SEVEN
Kaitlyn
MY WARDROBE CONSISTS OF NURSING SCRUBS, worn jeans, t-shirts that have definitely seen better days, and a few sweaters, button-downs, and going out tops that I collected while in nursing school. I’ve tried on every single one of them—twice. Everything is either too casual, too formal, or screams trying too hard.
Shit.
Flicking my glance at the reflection of the alarm clock on my nightstand, I start to panic for real. It’s 7:20. Tess said she’d be here at 7:30 and even though I don’t know her as well as I know Grace and Henley, I know enough to know she’s not one for being fashionably late.
Turning away from the mirror, I aim my panic at the dog watching my meltdown from the pile of discarded clothes on my bed. “I could tell them you got sick. That you ate another one of my socks and that?—”
Someone knocks on my front door.
Because he’s a dirty trader, Mookie jumps off my bed with a happy bark and runs from the room, a pair of my underwear hanging from his wagging tail.
Jesus.
Deciding this is what I’m wearing, like it or not, I run after him while fighting the urge to throw up.
Maybe I should throw up.
Just open the door and honk all over whoever’s standing on the other side of it. Before I can commit, Mookie lets out another happy, hopeful bark. Happy because he loves company. Hopeful because that company is almost always Molly.
“You’re no help,” I grumble at him while reaching down to snag my underwear off his tail, mid-wag. “No help at all.”
“Kait?” My name comes from the other side of the door, muffled and confused. “Are you?—”
Giving Mook one last, withering look, I open the door. As soon as I do, my traitorous dog streaks across the hallway to plant himself in front of Grace and Ryan’s front door. “Ready?” I finish for her while stuffing the underwear in my hand into the front pocket of my jeans with a sardonic smile. “If I say no, will you leave without me?”
“I was going to say okay .” Grace laughs, her sky-blue eyes giving me an appraising once-over. “Sounded like you’re fighting for your life in there.”
You have no idea.
As usual, Grace looks absolutely stunning with no effort at all. Long blonde hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Barely there make-up. Jeans, T-shirt and low-top sneakers.
The exact opposite of trying too hard.
Suddenly, there’s no way in hell I’d be caught dead wearing what I have on.
“I’m going to change.” Giving her a curt nod, I start to turn away from the open doorway. “Just?—”
Before I can get away, Grace reaches out to snag my hand, stopping my retreat. “Sorry…” She shakes her head while behind her, Mookie lifts his paw and scratches at her closed front door. “But you look ready to me. And pretty damn hot, if you ask me.”
Looking down at myself, I feel that panic flutter again.
“It’s too much. I’m overdressed.” When my explanation is met with a so what shrug, I shake my head. “I don’t want to give the wrong impression.”
What impression is that, exactly? That you showed up at your ex-husband’s tattoo shop with your tits hanging out and every intention of driving him crazy?
Because even though Went doesn’t love me— never loved me —he’s always wanted me.
That much I’m sure of.
“Impression?” Grace looks at me like she has no idea what I’m talking about—probably because she doesn’t. Because somehow, Went and I have managed the impossible by keeping the fact that not only do we know each other, we were actually married to each other, a secret from everyone we care about.
The front door behind her opens and Ryan appears in the wedge of it, backpack slung over his shoulder. As soon as he has his opening, Mookie pushes past him and disappears inside their apartment, his happy bark answered by Molly’s high-pitched squeal.
“Molly and Henry are showered and ready for bed and Mary’s putting Allison down for the night.” He looks at his watch and frowns. “I’ve gotta get to class,” Looking up, Ryan’s face creasing with brotherly concern when he sees what I’m wearing. “Tess just texted. She’s waiting for you guys downstairs.”
“You look hot,” Grace tells me again before turning to look at Ryan. Framing me with her hands like she’s Vanna White, she asks him for confirmation. “She looks hot, right?” When he doesn’t answer her, Grace narrows her eyes at him. “Tell her she looks hot.”
Instead, Ryan shakes his head. “No.” The look on his face says what he wants to do is tell me to go put on a sweater.
Dropping her hands on an exasperated sigh, Grace turns back to look at me. “Men.” Rolling her eyes, she reaches past me to snag my keys and purse from the hook, just inside the door. “Whatever,” she tells me while shoving both into my arms. “Even if you looked like a bridge troll— which you don’t —it wouldn’t matter.” Snagging me by my elbow while I grapple with my belongings, Grace pulls me out of the doorway and into the hallway. “We’ve got about five minutes before Tess comes up here and drags us to that limo by our hair.”
Because she’s right, I turn away from her on a defeated sigh of my own to shut and lock my door while Ryan and Grace wait for me with varying levels of impatience. “Did you take your meds?” I ask Ryan, making one last, ditch effort at stalling the inevitable. “You know if you don’t take your meds, you’ll?—"
“Yes.” Ryan narrows his gaze on my face because he knows me better than almost anyone. He knows what I’m doing—that I’m stalling. He just doesn’t understand why. “I took my meds, and I spent forty-five minutes in the tank this afternoon. I’m good to go,” he tells me with uncharacteristic patience. Usually when I harp on him about his meds, he calls me Nurse Ratchet and tells me to mind my damn business.
“Okay.” Out of excuses, I give him a stiff nod. “We should probably get down there before Tess loses what little patience she has.”
The three of us pile into the elevator and make our way to the lobby—me standing at the front of the car while Ryan and Grace kiss and whisper behind me.
I love you, Jimmy. Text me when you get there so I know you’re safe.
Jimmy is Ryan’s nickname for Grace. Its origin has never been explained and I’ve never asked.
Remember when you had a nickname? Hell—remember when you had a husband before you went and fucked everything up?
I’m not usually a jealous person. I don’t usually covet what other people have, but I covet that. Not Ryan—he’s like Damien was. Like a brother. No, it’s not the man I covet.
I love you.
That’s what I want.
What I’ve always wanted.
What curdles my gut with bitter jealousy.
I want someone to love me enough to say it out loud. Not out of pity or obligation. Not because they’re trying to manipulate or guilt me. I want someone to tell me they love me because it’s the truth.
When the elevator doors slide open, I practically lunge through them and into the lobby, rushing for the back entrance where Tess is waiting for us in her stupid fucking limo because the only thing I want less than facing Went again, is having to face what I want more than anything, but will never get to have.
“Hey.” Catching up with me in the parking lot, Ryan snags my elbow while Grace climbs into the back of a sleek, black limousine. I plaster a smile on my face before turning to face Ryan.
“What’s up?” I answer while behind me, I hear the distinct sound of a champagne cork popping.
“You tell me,” Ryan counters, his dark brown eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re being weird.” Dropping his hand away from my elbow, he shoves it into the front pocket of his jeans and pulls out his car keys. “Like you’re nervous or something.”
“I’m not nervous,” I tell him, oddly hurt by his assessment. “And I’m not being weird .”
Ryan’s gaze narrows even further. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”
Caught, I feel my resolve begin to waver. “I?—”
“I hate to break up whatever the hell’s going on here but it took all of my favorite ex-girlfriend points to talk Went into opening his shop for this little shindig,” Tess says, poking her head out of the limo’s open door. “If we don’t get there by eight o’clock, I know that grumpy motherfucker is going to close up and go home.”
“Everything’s fine.” Giving Ryan another fake smile, I start to back away from him and whatever the hell I was about to be dumb enough to tell him.
Like the truth.
“If you say so.” Ryan gives me another one of his bland smiles. “Tell Grace I’ll text her on my way home.” Keys in hand, Ryan turns away from me, heading for the classic Mustang Conner converted from stick shift to automatic for him over a year ago. Behind me, Tess lets out an overly dramatic sigh.
“Kaitlyn I don’t know your last name , if you don’t get in this fucking car, so help me?—”
Fiorella.
My last name is Fiorella.
At least it was.
For five weeks, three days, and twenty-two hours.
“Barrett.” Swinging around to aim my fake smile in her direction, I move to climb into the back of the limo, giving Tess no choice but to move out of my way. Settling into the plush leather seat, I look out the window while the driver shifts into drive and the car slowly glides through the parking lot, taking me to the last place I should be. “My last name is Barrett.”