Chapter 34
On Thursday night, Max and I head to the newest Lucky Spot.
Business has been booming for Spencer and Charlotte, and they just expanded their bar in the heart of Chelsea, adding on a Ping-Pong table room.
On Monday and Wednesday nights, the bar hosts leagues for the sport, and Thursday is a themed night featuring Ping-Pong and champagne.
Wyatt and Natalie called everyone together for a post-wedding evening out. I’m not sure if it’s their third or fourth wedding to each other, or just another excuse for them to celebrate being married. The two of them like doing that, and so the gang’s all here.
That also means this is the first time Josie and I have hung out with the whole group of friends since the end of our short-lived stretch as roommates and an even briefer stint as lovers. But no one else knows about the latter except Max.
As we walk along Eighteenth Street, I remind him. “Keep it on the down-low in front of everyone, okay?”
He stage-whispers, “You mean about you having a big thing for Josie Hammer?”
“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Got it. Because no one else could ever fucking tell.” He yanks open the door to the bar, and we stroll inside, joining the crew in the Ping-Pong room.
Instantly, my eyes find her. Josie rests her hip against the green Ping-Pong table. She wears a red skirt, and little ankle boots that would look fantastic parked on my shoulders. Wrapped around my neck. Hooked around my waist.
I drag a hand through my hair and fix on a friendly smile, lest anyone catch on that I was cycling through my favorite positions.
Josie holds a glass of champagne as she chats with Natalie.
The two of them watch Harper as she bounces on her toes at one end of the table, a paddle in her hand.
From the other end, Nick serves the white plastic ball, and the two volley for the next minute.
Nick is ferociously focused, slamming the ball back at her each time, but then Harper delivers a punishing blow to the right corner, and when Nick stretches to reach it, the ball rattles to the floor.
Harper thrusts her arms in the air. “The streak continues!”
Josie holds her flute high, toasting Harper’s victory. Natalie hoots and hollers.
A new couple strolls through the doorway and into the Ping-Pong room—she’s a petite blonde with wavy, honey-colored hair, and the guy towers over her, a tall and broad dude. The woman chimes in, “Nick, you can never beat her. Don’t you know that by now?”
Nick pushes his glasses up his nose and shrugs. “But I can’t stop trying, Abby.”
“Better luck next time,” the new guy says with a smile.
Harper steps in and introduces me to her friends Simon and Abby. After we all shake hands, Simon drapes an arm around Abby’s shoulders and plants a kiss on her cheek, for no obvious reason other than he can. Lucky fucker.
As I peer around, I see nothing but couples.
Natalie and Wyatt, Spencer and Charlotte, Nick and Harper, Simon and Abby.
It’s just the Summers brothers who are single, and Josie.
The thing is, Max is happy with his status, as far as I can tell.
In principle, I don’t object to mine. I was never bothered being a one-man operation. Until I fell for Josie.
Now, seeing all these paired-up friends reminds me that I’m the one of us who didn’t get the woman he wanted.
Wyatt drops a hand to my shoulder. “Ready to be decimated?” he asks as he hands me a paddle.
“I am ready,” I say confidently, taking a deliberate beat, “to obliterate you.”
He arches a brow, like I can’t possibly be serious. But I am, because bar games and me are a winning combination. Tonight, the game has a welcome side effect. Beating Wyatt’s sorry ass keeps me from staring at his sister all night.
“Bastard,” he mutters as I slam the winning ball in our second round, since he challenged me to a rematch after I pummeled him in the first. Foolish choice on his part.
But before I can trash-talk Wyatt about his second loss, Spencer’s voice booms across the room. “What are you two cats doing about living arrangements now that the landlord gave you the screw?”
The man is aces at bringing up the elephant in the room, even unintentionally. Spencer looks at me, then Josie.
She pipes up first. “I’m living with a friend.”
“Lots of pillow fights and late-night gab fests?” he asks. “Or do you style each other’s hair? Color it even? Bake cookies and watch HBO?”
Josie meets my gaze from the other side of the Ping-Pong table. A tiny smile lifts her lips, a private one that I know is just for me. I answer her with a small quirk of my lips, too. There’s a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
But then the hint of secrets shared is extinguished and replaced by something else entirely. Resolve? Acceptance? I can’t tell anymore.
She nods as she meets Spencer’s waiting stare. “Yes, that’s exactly what we do. All night sessions.”
I don’t know if the innuendo is for me, or just to needle Spencer. That’s the problem. She feels so close, but so far out of reach.
Spencer turns to me and raises his chin. “And what about you? How’s life at Chez Summers Brothers? Keeping busy watching monster truck rallies and avoiding all food that requires utensils?”
I look around for Max, but he’s disappeared. “Yeah, it’s one big fiesta of masculine stereotypes. Some nights we beat our chests like Tarzan.”
Charlotte laughs. “I bet you miss the feminine touch Josie brought to living together.”
Boy, do I ever. Charlotte’s words are like a punch in the chest.
Once more our eyes lock, and I try to find the answer in Josie’s light green gaze. But I don’t even know what I’m looking for. “Yeah,” I say, since I can’t manage a joke right now.
Wyatt raises a beer. “But it was good while it lasted, though, right?”
He doesn't even know the half of it. I swallow and answer him. “It was the best.”
Josie nibbles on the corner of her lip and looks away. Harper jumps in, and her voice seems protective, as if she’s watching out for Josie. “I’m sure it was.” She hoists her paddle high above her head. “Anyone up for another round? Or are you all too chicken to take on the Ping-Pong champion?”
That riles up Spencer, who grabs a paddle from Nick. As they play, Max wanders back in, his jaw set, his eyes blazing.
“Everything good?” I ask him.
He shakes his head and mutters, “Had to take a phone call.” He scrubs a hand across his jaw. “Fucking Henley Rose.”
I raise an eyebrow. I haven’t heard that name in ages. “Your former apprentice?”
With a heavy sigh, he shoots me a can-you-believe-it look. “That’s the one.”
Color me surprised. “The one who left you for your competitor in a fit of you’ll-rue-the-day-you-let-me-go anger?”
“Thanks for the reminder of her parting words.”
“Would it be easier if I reminded you that you thought she was smoking hot, and your greatest accomplishment each day was not staring at her every single second she was under the engine or bent over the hood?”
He narrows his eyes. “Nothing ever happened with her,” he says through gritted teeth.
“So what was the call about then?”
He gives me a ten-second overview of the call, and my jaw drops. “Well, that’s going to make for one hell of a tawdry tale.”
He claps my back. “But that’s a story for another time.”
“I look forward to that time then,” I say, since I can’t wait to hear more about the woman who drove my brother up the wall once upon a time.
A few minutes later, after Harper bests her cocky brother, she circles by, pointing to a low table in the corner of the room next to some comfy emerald green chairs. “They’ve got Scrabble back here. Want to play?”
Max shakes his head. “Nah.”
But Scrabble is hard for me to resist, and I’m sure Harper knows my weakness. She nudges me. “What about you, Chase? You and Josie are a good combo, right?”
From a few feet away, Josie chimes in, “We’re the best. We beat the Hammer twins every time.”
Harper rubs her hands together. “I can’t wait to see that.” She tips her chin to the game by the chairs. “Show us how good you can be.”
Nick grabs a chair and flips open the board. “Or don’t you think you can beat us, Doctor Brain?”
I have no choice. I must destroy him now. “Those are fighting words, Nick. Prepare to die on the Scrabble board. A slow, painful death wrought by triple word scores and more combinations with J and X than you can even begin to spell.”
Josie cracks up. “Yes, dear brothers. We play to kill.”
And we do.
We win with a final combination of “onerous” and the “ex” that Josie builds on our final turn.
I try to read nothing into it. It’s just a two-letter word.
When everyone else is busy doing couple stuff, she rests a hand on my arm. “I’m glad we can do this, Chase. I’m glad we’re still friends. Are you?”
“Absolutely. I’m stoked we’re friends, too.”
But she’s also something else. She’s an ex, and that’s a whole other thing. I’m learning being friends with an ex isn’t the same as being friends with a woman.
Once you’ve crossed the line into lovers, everything changes. Returning to the way you were before isn’t easy.
It’s onerous.