Chapter 75 Back to Counting
Back to Counting
Tessa
Four days. This time, I didn't bother denying I was counting.
Did I regret what I'd said?
I couldn't, because I had meant it.
It hurt like crazy, but I had to be fair. If Ryder had asked me to sneak around like his private booty call, I knew exactly how I'd feel.
Completely awful.
And I would rather be miserable myself than do something like that to anyone, especially someone I cared about.
Was I a fool?
Probably.
Desperate to hang on, I had asked for a little break, not a breakup. But let's be real here. There was no way on Earth that someone like Ryder would wait around for someone like me. It wasn't a matter of self-esteem. It was a matter of options.
He had billions.
And me? I was just a bad barista with a messy past.
The only upside was that I wasn't completely alone at the house. True, Maisie had been spending lots of time away – no doubt, with Griff. But when she was around, I leaned into it, hoping she was becoming my friend, and not only my sister's.
I liked sharing things with her – especially girl talk over those tiny bottles of booze.
Now, sitting with Maisie on the sofa, I listened while she told me about trouble at the bike shop – or more accurately trouble with her ex.
Apparently, the ex and his fiancée were becoming a real menace, popping into the shop and making things weird for Maisie and Griff.
On the upside, there were no actual brawls, but it did sound pretty intense. In fact, it had gotten so weird that today, a customer who'd witnessed the weirdness had made some crack about key parties, as if those were still a thing.
While sipping from a tiny bottle, Maisie asked, "So how exactly do they work?"
Key parties? I hesitated. "You seriously don't know?"
"Well, it's not like I've ever been to one." She took a big swig from her tiny bottle. "Have you?"
If Maisie were anyone else, I might've felt insulted. I was no swinger. "Oh, please," I laughed. "Who do you think I am?"
"Well…you're someone who knows a lot more than I do."
"But not from experience." As I said it, I couldn't help but wonder what exactly Delaney had told her. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been good.
Back in high school, when I'd started dating the captain of the football team, Delaney had shunned me for a whole month. And that guy was nothing compared to Ryder Vaughn.
But the real crux was the borrowed money. In my mind, I could already hear Delaney saying, "You're dating a billionaire, and you needed MY money for rent?"
My only hope was tracking her down and finding a way to explain before adding Ryder to the mix.
"So?" Maisie persisted. "How do they work?"
I blinked back to the present and gave Maisie the basic key-party rundown. Afterward, we debated the logistics back and forth until I returned to the topic of the annoying ex and his even more annoying fiancée. "So, what happened after they left?"
"Nothing," Maisie said. "This college kid came in and rented Shark Bike, and that was that."
"Forget the bikes," I said. "What happened with Griff? Did you guys talk about it?"
Her face fell. "I tried. But he was really standoffish."
The pain in her voice hurt to hear. "How so?"
"He was all quiet and tense, like he used to be, you know, back in the beginning. He said barely a dozen words all afternoon."
I gave her a sympathetic look. "Is that why you're here with me instead of there with him?"
"I guess," she murmured. "I mean…at the end of the day, we just sort of went our separate ways."
As she said it, I had a horrible thought. What if part of this was my fault? "You do know, you can have him come here, right? I mean, this is your house."
Her cheeks flushed. "I know."
"But…?"
"Honestly?" She winced. "I wasn't sure you'd like it."
My stomach sank. I knew it. This was because of me. And of course, I felt doubly guilty because I'd had sex with Ryder just up those stairs – Maisie's stairs, to be exact. I hadn't even told her, much less asked for permission. Plus, there was the matter of the door.
And there she was, keeping Griff away because of me?
I was the worst roommate, ever. With a guilty smile, I told her, "Trust me, it's fine. Like I said, it's your house."
"But that's not all," she said. "The truth is, it feels kind of funny having him come here when I have no idea where he's living."
I blinked. Wait, what?
I knew exactly where Griff was living, because Ryder had told me. One time, I'd even ridden past the boathouse on my borrowed bike. The place really was a dump.
Was that why Griff kept it a secret?
I studied Maisie's face. "And you haven't asked?"
"Not really. I mean…I've hinted for information, but I haven't asked outright."
I leaned toward her to say, "Maybe you should."
"Maybe." Looking dejected, she sank back against the cushions. "But what if he won't tell me?"
Then it would surely be a problem. But I didn't say it, because Maisie looked upset enough already. Ryder had claimed that Griff was a good guy, but now, I wasn't so sure. With growing concern, I asked, "Why wouldn't he?"
"I don't know. Maybe because he's private?"
"How private?"
"Well…if you want the truth, I'm not even sure of his last name."
What the hell? Apparently, I knew more than she did, which didn't seem fair at all. "You can't be serious. Have you asked for his last name?"
"Sort of." She glanced away. "I mean, I asked him to fill out some paperwork once."
Paperwork? Seriously? "And?"
In a quiet voice, she replied, "And he refused."
"Oh." What a jerk. But I didn't want to make it worse, so I controlled my temper and murmured a basic, "Well…that's not good."
And it wasn't. Suddenly, I was regretting that promise I'd made to Ryder – that I'd give Griff the chance to tell Maisie everything on his own.
At the time, the promise had seemed good for Maisie, too. But now, doubt was creeping in.
If Ryder and I were actually talking, I'd probably ask to renegotiate.
Even now, I was sorely tempted.
Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to hear his voice.
I really did miss him.
When Maisie went upstairs to take a bath, I breathed a huge sigh of relief that her favorite bubble bath was no longer missing. And then, I spent way too long obsessing over the guy who'd made the replacement possible.
During these past four days, I'd seen no sign of him at all. Recalling what he'd said about phones going both ways – I'd even sent him a couple of jokey texts but had received no reply whatsoever.
I was almost debating sending a third when my phone buzzed on the coffee table. A text. I dove to snatch it up, wondering if it was Ryder.
It wasn't.
It was a text from Skip. You locked the back door, right?
I stared at the screen. Of course I'd locked the back door. I always locked the back door. My jaw was tight as I typed back a single word. Yes.
No response.
I waited. Still nothing.
I shook my head. Was he trying to give me a complex? I knew the place was secure. But now that he'd asked, I also knew exactly how this would go.
Like a nervous Nellie, I wouldn't sleep. I'd lie in bed all night wondering if the door was wide open.
Reluctantly, I glanced toward Maisie's front door and said on a sigh, "Damn it."