Chapter Three #2
I hated being in love with Trey as much as I loved it, because it terrified me.
What if he walked away one day? What if that day was today?
I’d spent my whole life pretending I didn’t care about anyone or anything, but I didn’t think I could pull it off if I lost Trey.
And who would I be if the illusion of Scout Talbot-Smith cracked and everyone could see inside?
“Hey,” he said, a smile crinkling the skin at the corners of his eyes. “Earth to Scout.”
I rearranged the salt and pepper shakers. “What?”
“Coffee or juice?” Trey asked.
“Sorry,” I said, noticing the server hovering for the first time. I forced a smile for her. “Coffee, thanks. Latte.”
I put the salt and pepper shakers back the way they had been.
“So, DC, huh?” Trey asked, like he was asking about the weather and not stepping straight back into last night’s argument.
I gave him a wary nod, wondering how he was going to play this.
“It’s a great opportunity,” he said. “Are you looking forward to it?”
Oh, so that was it. We were excising Christmas from the entire conversation, and I couldn’t be more glad.
“Yes, I’m sure picking up Justice McDaniel’s dry cleaning will be the high point of my existence.” But I smiled a little to show I was kidding. Mostly. “It’ll be three weeks of mind-numbing drudgery, but yeah, it’s still a big deal, I know.”
“Hey, it’s making you friends in high places, which I’m all for. It means I’ll be able to come to you when I’m a lowly DA and need a favor.”
One of us was going to end up in a position to do favors and it wasn’t me, but I didn’t say that.
We both knew Trey was the ambitious one, and however much I fell upward because of who my father was, he’d still beat me up the career ladder by sheer grit and determination.
I’d make sure of it. Instead I hummed and said, “I don’t know.
If you can’t even convince me to go to Waffle House, how are you going to convince me to go easy on a lovable but misguided petty thief who was only trying to provide for his seventeen children? ”
“That’s oddly specific,” Trey said. “And very Dickensian. Will you be wearing a top hat in this scenario?”
“You know I’ll look good in it.”
“Mmm-hmm.” His eyes sparkled.
The tension in me eased. Okay, yeah. I had a good read on this now.
We were teasing, because that was what we did, and we were okay.
The argument over Christmas had been a bump in the road, that was all, and we were already past it.
And when Trey left to drive home later today, it would be fine, because I’d know we were still solid.
I’d still miss him, obviously. I thought about telling him that, but I didn’t want to ruin our ceasefire when that would inevitably lead him to pointing out that I didn’t have to miss him and why not come to Christmas with the Montgomerys?
So instead I said, “You should come up and visit me in DC after Christmas.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Let me guess, you’re staying somewhere fancy as hell?”
“I’ll be the envy of all the other interns,” I said dryly. “But, yes, I’m staying somewhere that my father felt was adequate.”
“Fancy as hell,” Trey translated with a laugh. “I might come and check it out. It would be nice to spend a weekend in a fancy hotel without worrying about the brothers.”
“It would be much more relaxing than this place,” I said, thinking of all the chaos currently unfolding downstairs back at Alpha Tau. “I still can’t believe Marty’s doing a photo shoot for Squirrel. He should have done that months ago if he wanted to get the cards professionally printed.”
“Sure.” Trey shrugged. “But sometimes it’s easier to just say yes to Marty than to point out the flaws in his plans.”
“You know what’s most annoying?”
“About Marty? Oh, this will be a long list.”
“I’m willing to admit that he’s been a lot better since he started taking his meds. No, the annoying thing about Marty O’Brien is that all his half-assed plans work out. How? How does he do that?”
“Sheer dumb luck, as best as I can figure,” Trey said with a laugh.
That sounded about right.
The server returned with our breakfasts, and we ate. It tasted better than I would ever admit, but the corner of Trey’s mouth twitched up in an almost-smirk when I couldn’t hold back the small pleasurable sound that escaped me when I tried the first bite of my eggs.
“Good, right?” Trey asked.
“Adequate,” I shot back, and this time he did smirk.
Trey ate slowly, as though he was actually enjoying the ambience of Cafe Meow. By the time he finally finished, I was tapping my foot under the table.
“That was great, thanks,” he said when the server came to collect our dishes. “Actually, can I grab another coffee?”
“No problem,” she said with a cheery smile.
“Trey,” I said in an undertone. “They’re busy. There are people waiting for tables.”
“We won’t be much longer,” he said, but it was another twenty minutes before he was finally ready to go. I tipped extra to make up for it.
The sharp, cold air stung my face and brought tears to my eyes as we hurried across the parking lot to our cars. It had started to snow, just a few flakes for now but the clouds were low and thick.
Trey peeled out of the parking lot before me, so I followed him all the way back to campus and Fraternity Row. He was driving slower than a wet week, but eventually we pulled up in front of Alpha Tau. There were still a lot of cars there. There might have been more than before I’d left for brunch.
I climbed out of my car and slammed the door. “What the hell is going on, Trey? Everyone is meant to be out. We have their keys!”
He shrugged and headed for the house. “Let’s get inside. It’s freezing out here.”
I sighed, my breath turning to mist. Okay, yeah, it was cold as balls. I trudged across the lawn behind Trey, and we climbed the steps to the front porch. Trey reached out and tangled his fingers in mine just for a second and said, “Merry Christmas, baby.”
“That’s a nice sentiment, but maybe you could have waited until we got in out of the cold,” I said and pushed open the door.
I was greeted by the sound of Mariah warbling, enough flashing colored lights to warrant a health warning, and two giant inflatable gingerbread men that were crammed into the foyer.
“Bro!” Marty called, squeezing between the gingerbread men and shoving a beer can in my direction. “Happy Fratmas!”
Oh hell no.
I stepped back out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind me.