Chapter 10 #2
“I don’t know,” she says gently, coming around the counter to press a hand to mine. “Just like I don’t know why Bliss has this incessant need to tear others down to make herself feel better.”
Her tone is contemplative, and it’s just enough to offer me a distraction from my own misery. “Has something happened? Did she do something?” Else, I add silently. Did she do something else?
“No,” Marisa murmurs, eyes darting away from mine.
“I’m just having a few epiphanies of my own.
But I’m not here to talk about that. I’m here to smack some sense into you.
” She takes her hand off mine, leaning over the counter to snag her mug.
She lifts it to her lips, swallowing, before asking, “What’s your plan? ”
“What d’you mean?” I ask dumbly, looking around the kitchen like the walls might have answers for me.
Marisa furrows her brow, staring at me like I’ve fallen out of a stupid tree, hitting every branch on the way down. I don’t really blame her, because I feel that stupid.
“What’s your plan?” she asks again, slow and loud, as if that might make the question sink in. “How are you fixing this with Charlie?”
I look at her helplessly. “How am I supposed to fix it when she won’t talk to me? She’s probably at Barrett’s and—” My throat goes so tight, I almost choke on my own spit.
I don’t want to imagine her with him. They’ve been friends their whole lives, but something about him has always left me on edge, certain he must harbor feelings for Charlie.
I mean, who wouldn’t?
She’s perfect.
And Charlie is so willing to lean on Barrett when it comes to anything, but especially her family. He has an open invitation to the monthly dinners. Charlie took me twice, and then never again.
Marisa seems to sense my thoughts, because she flicks one brow up, wondering, “Bliss has been your friend for years. Not as long as Barrett and Charlie, but years. Do you have feelings for her? Would you sleep with her?”
My face scrunches into a look of disgust. Not because Bliss isn’t a good-looking woman, but because hell no. She’s a ballbuster, and that’s awesome. Bliss is strong, independent, and she doesn’t take shit. She’s all hard edges and cutting words, and when I come home after a long day, I want soft.
I want Charlie.
Bliss would probably tear my head off and eat it, calling it comfort.
Marisa laughs softly, shaking her head at me.
“Guess that answers that question. Now, if that’s how you feel about Bliss, how come you don’t trust that Barrett and Charlie are the same?
” Her voice takes on a lecturing quality.
“Men and women can be platonic friends without developing any kind of feelings, physical or otherwise, for each other.”
“I know, I know,” I say, hands up to cut off the speech I sense coming. “They’re just…” I swallow hard, hating how insecure this is going to sound. “They’re so close, Ris. They talk to each other about everything, including their relationships. And he’s—”
“Super masculine? Muscular? Good-looking? A big ol’ teddy bear?” Her blue eyes flash, and I shudder, horrified at what she might be imagining, but she tells me anyway. “Swear to god, I’d climb that man like a tree.”
“Jesus, fuck, Ris!” I complain loudly, stomping away from her like that might erase her words, and she giggles. I scrub a hand through my hair, confessing, “I hate that I feel threatened by him, but if something goes wrong, Charlie calls him first. Sometimes…”
“Sometimes?” she prompts when I don’t continue.
I shoot her a look, a warning not to judge me, and she nods. “Sometimes, I just don’t feel needed. Like she’d be fine without me because she has him. And it sounds pathetic, but—”
“You can’t help how you feel,” she says, gracious as hell. It doesn’t make me feel better. “Is that why you didn’t tell Charlie about us? About our history?”
My eyes flare, surprise and incomprehension mingling. “I didn’t tell Charlie about us because there is no us. There was nothing to tell.”
Marisa’s eyes don’t waver, firm and determined, refusing to let me look away. “And if Charlie and Barrett had slept together? And she didn’t tell you?”
“That’s not…” I try to say. “It’s not the same.”
“Isn’t it?”
“It’s not!” I insist, waving a hand between our bodies. “There’s nothing here, no feelings, nothing. We might have slept together once, but we both knew it wasn’t good.” Our faces crease into matching expressions of awkward horror, and after a moment, we laugh, some of the tension dissipating.
“I know that,” Marisa agrees. “And you know that. Charlie didn’t, because you never told her.” She moistens her lips, eyes turning sad. “And now all she knows is what Bliss said.”
I frown. “Bliss is full of shit.”
Marisa rolls her eyes, frustrated. “Again, dumbass, we know that. But all Charlie heard was your good friend talking about how you’d always had feelings for me, and how we were meant to be together.
” She shakes her head, declaring, “Charlie thinks you’re in love with me and you’ve been lying to her this whole time. ”
“No,” I immediately deny. “I told her that wasn’t true. I told her we slept together, but I told her there weren’t any feelings.”
Marisa’s expression turns pitying. “Dillon, you lied when you never told her about our history. You might not have said the words, but you lied by never giving her the truth. Why do you think she’d believe you now?”
“Hey, Dillon,” Rachel says when she comes into the breakroom on Monday morning, her smile wary. “Good weekend?”
“Not too bad,” I reply, watching as she goes to the fridge and puts her lunch away. “What about you?”
She lifts her shoulder. “I had the weekend to myself, which doesn’t happen often.” I frown, not sure what that means. She continues before I can ask, “Co-parenting has some benefits, I suppose, but he’s not exactly reliable at keeping up with his weekends.”
My surprise etches itself across my face, and I’m relieved that she’s still puttering around in the fridge and can’t see it.
Rachel has worked here since I started, but I had no clue that she was a mom or divorced.
It shames me to admit that she’s always been someone I see around, but don’t really register.
Even when she was gunning for Jack’s promotion, it was just background noise.
There’s a taut silence before she whirls around, her eyes widening. “I didn’t actually mean to tell you that,” Rachel rushes out. “Sorry! It’s just…” Her laugh is weak. “No coffee yet.”
“It’s all good,” I say quickly. “I didn’t know you had a kid.”
Rachel isn’t reassured, her movements disjointed as she slams the fridge shut.
She grabs a mug from the shelf, heading for the coffee machine.
“Two, actually,” she murmurs. “I don’t really bring my personal life into work, because”—she slides a look toward me, the corners of her mouth tight—“well, you know what this place is like.”
Before I get the chance to answer her, Jack waltzes through the door. He gives Rachel a dismissive glance before turning to me. “Just the man I was looking for!”
Her expression darkens as she turns away, keeping her back to the two of us as she makes her coffee.
“Hey,” I tell him as he gives me an appraising look. I frown. “What?”
“The bruising is almost gone,” Jack observes, and from the corner of my eye, I see Rachel throw a curious look my way. “You almost look normal. Back to your boring self, at least.”
“Shut up. What do you want?”
He pretends to be hurt, pressing a hand to his chest. “You think I’m only looking for you because I want something? I’m not that kind of man, Dillon.” He winks, hand dropping. “Not unless you buy me lunch first.”
I roll my eyes so hard, I swear, I actually see my own brain. “I’ll rephrase,” I say dryly. “What the fuck do you want?”
Rachel slips out of the room, the door softly closing behind her, the noise catching Jack’s attention. Something sly enters his eyes as he turns back to me. “She’s been pretty quiet since the promotion was announced, huh?”
“Who has?” I ask in a bored tone, hoping he’ll just drop it. I’ve never thought about Rachel one way or another, but knowing she’s got two kids…
“Rachel,” Jack says impatiently. “You think she’s finally learned her place around here?” He clucks his tongue. “She wants to play with the big boys, but she’s as feisty as a mouse.”
My stomach curdles with irritation. “What do you want, Jack?”
He looks at me, his eyes wide at my tone. “Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?” He shakes his head, waving a hand. “Never mind. I don’t care. The Bruins are playing against the Sabres this Friday night. You want to watch the game at my place?”
I’m ready to say no, my blood already boiling with irritation at him. But I don’t want to spend another Friday night alone in my apartment, wondering what Charlie is doing, and with who.
“Yeah, fine,” I mumble, heading for the door without another word.
“I’ll buy the beer,” Jack calls after me. “You buy the snacks!”
“Whatever,” I grunt, letting the door swing shut behind me before he can say anything else.
“I heard you dumped your girlfriend.”
I flick a dark glare across Jack’s living room at Bliss, imagining how it would feel if her head just kind of…
exploded. She’s not even looking at me, her gaze on her phone and nails clacking against the glass when she types anything out.
After a beat, she glances at me out of the corner of her eye, but I’m too busy imagining how the blood and brains would just splatter everywhere, coating the wooden floorboards under our feet.
Bliss shifts her weight, her mouth tight.
I don’t give a shit. “It’s probably for the best,” she continues, even though I haven’t said a word to her since she walked in the door.
She kicks off the spiky heels that look like something that should be used in torture, sliding them under the low wooden coffee table in front of the couch.
“She never really fit in with us, you know?”