Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
THADDEUS
The minute the kitchen was clean, I headed for the shower, relishing the sting of hot spray pummelling my back like a million needles.
I’d like that. Ryder’s careful answer shouldn’t have meant as much as it did, and I tried not to think about the why of that.
It didn’t take a mind reader to know that he was physically attracted to me, just like I was to him.
He was shit at hiding the hunger in his eyes when he thought I wasn’t watching.
Well, join the club. The man was hardly chopped liver himself.
I was continually looking for excuses to be near him, but I also wasn’t kidding myself.
I knew that my work on his glasshouse systems had been the clincher in his decision to let me stay past Friday night.
I was useful to his world, and that carried some weight.
But it likely didn’t mean more than that, and frankly, I didn’t care.
Would I have liked him to want me to stay for other reasons? Sure. But I’d take what I could get. A few more blissful days of anonymity while I got my shit together was nothing to be sneezed at. A nice place to spend it and a hot living companion to share it with was simply the cherry on top.
Still, it was just as well Ryder had left for work.
A whiff of that earthy cologne and my mind—and dick—became instantly distracted, a problem that was getting worse.
I would’ve had that damned software sorted out before bed the previous night if I hadn’t spent half the time surreptitiously watching Ryder cook.
He possessed far too much grace for such a tall man, and he moved about the cottage like he was somehow in tune with it—something I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt in any place I’d lived.
Showered and dressed, I took my phone and laptop to the sofa to tackle the growing pile of emails and messages I’d ignored the day before. Ziggy scratched a bed for himself in the blanket beside me, then stretched his tiny sausage body in the morning sun and closed his eyes.
First, I worked through my phone.
JB had texted to say he’d check on my apartment the next day and get back to me.
A twinge of guilt niggled my belly that I hadn’t been back in touch with him since that first time.
He was the only real friend I had left. I thought of Ryder and smiled.
Well, maybe not the only one. I replied that I was doing okay and asked him to send me a few pics of the apartment.
I told him I’d decided to take a few more days but didn’t tell him where or with whom.
JB replied almost immediately.
Where are you, or is it a secret? I can come get you if you need. Your mother called FFS. I didn’t say anything about Phillip cos she seemed not to know??? She’s worried. Maybe give her a call, yeah?
My mother again? Jesus Christ. I texted back.
You know what she’s like.
He did, but he also knew me.
She’s your mother, Thad. They worry. It’s what they do. Don’t be unkind. And what’s happening with the company? What about Phillip? What do I say if he gets in contact? Why won’t you tell me where you are?
Because you might tell someone by mistake.
Like my mother. Like Phillip. Because I want to hold on to this bubble for a bit longer.
Because I want to pretend none of it happened.
Because I’m a fucking coward. Because going back means facing my mother’s disappointment.
Face the reality that I can’t seem to hold on to a man, no matter what I do. That I’m never quite enough.
You need to try harder, Thaddeus. Making friends is never easy.
Yeah, but getting fucked was easy. I never had any trouble with that part. Finding someone who wanted more than that was the tricky part. Ryder sprang to mind, and I almost laughed. Yeah, right. Like that was ever going to be on the cards.
I’ll tell you soon. I promise. Just not yet. And my company is fine. Phillip can manage a few days without me. I’m giving him what he needs. I’m not indispensable.
It was all lies, but JB bought it, kind of.
Fine. But you are one motherfucking pain in my arse, just so you know.
I grinned to myself.
I love you too. And thanks.
Next, I texted my mother with another lie.
Just checking in. I’m fine. Lying by the beach. Please don’t call my friends. I’ll be home in a few days.
Lastly, I turned my attention to the barrage of texts from Judd.
Where’s my red coat?
I want my contribution to next month’s mortgage back.
You do realise I own half our lounge suite. You’ll have to sell it or reimburse me.
I’m taking the tickets for Ed Sheeran. You never really liked him, anyway.
And the Nespresso machine and milk frother. I use it more than you.
But I damn well bought it.
As a litany of what Judd wanted, what he’d taken, and what I needed to do was poured out in texts, I couldn’t even find the energy to get angry.
There was nothing about what he’d done. His transgressions.
Or about how I might feel. No apology either.
The weirdest thing was how inclined I was to not give a shit about any of it.
A part of me wondered why he’d even bothered to text. Had he wanted an excuse to legitimately get in touch? Surely not.
The last text he sent was the zinger.
And I’m going to Melbourne on that holiday we booked for next month, so don’t you dare cancel anything.
It was my idea, and I booked it. You owe me that much for the last few years we’ve been together.
Besides, you’d never have gone without me.
You don’t go anywhere. Maybe you should think about that when you’re hating me for what I did.
Think about why I did it. You don’t live, Thad. Some of us need to.
Oh, hell no. My thumbs began to fly over the keyboard, but then I stopped and pressed Record to send a voice message instead.
“Fuck you, Judd. I paid for that entire holiday, and I don’t owe you a single fucking thing except my eternal regret for ever having thought you were a man worthy of my attention and respect.
You can have the damn air ticket, but I’m fucked if I’m paying for anything else.
Book your own damn accommodation. I’m cancelling that part right now.
” I threw the phone on the sofa and almost immediately picked it up again.
And that Nespresso machine better be there when I get back, or I’ll take it out of your mortgage money before I return the rest. Maybe you used it more, but just for the record, you always made crap coffee. I was just too nice to tell you.
I pressed Send and ditched the phone again, startling Ziggy from his sleep.
He looked up at me, a crosshatch of creases marking his brow.
“Fucking men,” I grumbled, smoothing his frown lines with my fingers.
“Give me a decent video game any day of the week. At least they don’t fuck your best friend. ”
You don’t live, Thad. Some of us need to.
I hated how his words were burrowing under my skin and making my conscience itch.
It wasn’t true . . . was it?
I lived. I did. Just because I didn’t want to go out partying every weekend or spend two hours on a Sunday listening to his brunch gang’s inane conversation didn’t mean I didn’t live, although I wasn’t sure my mother would agree with that.
Ziggy gave up staring and snuggled down. I watched his breathing slow into sleep, then opened my laptop. I’d received a few work-related texts from Phillip, but not as many as I’d expected. Nearly all our correspondence was by email, as I’d asked. That was something, I supposed.
But as for anything personal, be it an apology or any mention of our friendship, there was zip.
I tried not to let the hurt of that cut too deeply.
I’d been pretty clear on where I stood, so what did I expect?
Twenty years of friendship hadn’t meant enough to Phillip to keep his dick in his pants, so I’d clearly carried the weight of that relationship anyway.
I worked my way through his emails, trying not to be too gleeful at the mounting frustration evident in their tone.
I’d dropped him in the deep end and didn’t feel an ounce of pity.
I’d given him enough to get through the three critical client meetings we had in the upcoming week, but not enough to make life easy for him.
I needed the company to be profitable so that I could buy Phillip out.
But what if those profits had other costs attached to them? Attached to the cottage. Attached to Ryder. I shut down that line of thinking. I couldn’t afford to go there, or I might do something really, really stupid.
In between Ryder’s glasshouse software upgrades, I’d continued to work on the software proposal for Elosand’s data storage cooling system.
We were competing with two other companies for the contract, both of which had much more experience and a full team to dedicate to the proposal, not just one man—me.
The contract was only a small cog in the overall development, but it was an important one.
If we got this deal in the bag, it would be a major coup and could set the company up for life.
If Phillip sold me his share and the company was going to survive, then I needed that contract.
I didn’t want Phillip to win. I didn’t want him to have my company that I’d started from scratch.
But I needed him to think that I didn’t care.
That I was happy to leave. I wanted him worried that he’d have to replace me or dissolve the company altogether.
To see how seriously fucked he was without me.
All I had to do was wait him out and let the pressure mount.
Was it petty? Sure. And the part of me that knew that didn’t approve in the slightest. It was the same part that wanted me to just walk away and do something else.