Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
SADIE
After an awkward ride, I’m finally home. I’ve apologized to Dean a hundred times, but he assured me it’s ok. Hopefully, I haven’t created a mess for him. Though, I don’t see Logan as a person who would out someone.
Logan. Fuck.
In two clicks, I dial Sandy’s number, still standing in my entryway. I’m too keyed up to sit down. Eventually, she answers.
“Did you know Dean and Logan are cousins? Cousins. As in they share a grandma, and both attend her birthdays?” I spill out before she has a chance to say anything.
“What?”
“Dean, the fake date, and Logan, my contractor slash…,” I wrack my brain for an appropriate word. “… fuck-buddy, I guess. They’re cousins?”
She gasps. “Liam!” she yells, luckily turning the phone away. “Where did you hear about Logan’s company?”
I hear steps approaching, before the chill voice of my brother-in-law fills the phone. “Oh, Dean recommended him. They’re cousins.” I can practically hear the shrug of his shoulders, making me pinch the bridge of my nose.
“You didn’t think to mention it earlier?” Sandy uses her fake polite voice. The one that sounds nice but is actually lethal. “Maybe before Sadie was on a fake date with Dean while secretly fucking Logan?”
“Well, shit. I didn’t know all that.”
“You’re dismissed.” She sighs. “He really didn’t know all that, but he should have told me, anyway. You know men—communicating only the bare essentials, if that.” Another sigh. “I’m sorry, Sadie. What happened?”
“I’ll need a drink for that.”
I get to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and a bottle of tequila. Finally, I slump onto my couch, placing a hand over my head.
“What didn’t happen?” I force myself to pour a glass.
“Start from the beginning.”
I down a shot of tequila before taking a deep breath.
“Well, Dean was very nice, and we had a great time until I saw Logan at the same party. He acted strange; it was probably awkward I was there. The tension during dinner was unbearable, so I left for the bathroom to get my shit under control.” Another shot and another deep breath. “Logan followed me.”
Sandy gasps. “He didn’t?”
I can almost picture her snacking on popcorn, entertained by the soap opera that is my current life. “He did. He started talking about how I’m enjoying sex with him more than I do with Dean. And I guess he wanted to prove his point. So he made me come. And just as we finished, Dean walked in.”
“No…”
“Yes.” Tequila finds its way down my throat again.
“To make matters worse, Dean thought I met Logan during the party and outed him to hook up with Logan. By the end, both the fact that I was his fake date and the fact that Dean was gay were out in the open. I feel terrible.” I release an anxious breath.
“Shit, what happened after that?”
“They talked it out, I guess. I left them alone. But Dean told me Logan promised not to tell anyone.”
“And you and Logan, what the hell was up with that? ”
“You’re not hearing me. I’m feeling so fucking sorry for making Dean out himself before he was ready.”
“I know, but it wasn’t your fault. This isn’t a book. Fake dates are probably more likely to end up like this one than actually working. What I want to hear is why a guy that you’re ‘just having sex’ with threw a jealous fit when he saw you with someone else?”
“He didn’t throw a jealous fit…” I sigh.
“Oh, no? And how would you characterize his actions? Because from where I’m sitting, that was some top-notch possessive, over the top, ‘you’re mine’ MMC shit.”
“He forced me to agree on a date with him,” I blurt out, finally seeing what she’s saying.
Another loud gasp escapes her. “Ooh, I need to get my trope list.”
It might be her excitement. It might be the four shots of tequila I drank in under ten minutes, but I giggle. Actually giggle.
“Ok, I have it here,” she continues. “Crossing off fake date…”
A thought pops into my head, eliciting another fit of giggles. “Cross off marriage of convenience, too.”
“What?” she shrieks.
“Dean proposed.” My belly now hurts with laughter.
“Well, I guess it’s the closest we’ll get to an actual marriage of convenience. So approved. Ooh, I’m also crossing off possessive,” she singsongs.
“No, you’re not.” I clear my throat, not finding it funny.
She’s the one to giggle now. “Why not? He was obviously possessive.”
“He wasn’t possessive when I had my other dates.” My hand drops onto my forehead. “I simply don’t see him fitting into any of the tropes.” My voice turns low.
It’s a silly list made for fun. She could easily cross off possessive and put Logan on it.
But I don’t want him on that list. I don’t want to turn what we have, whatever that is, into a trope.
I want to keep it. For myself. So that, one day, when Sandy and I are old and gray and laughing at that silly list, we don’t find his name on it.
Because, if I’m being honest with myself, I have a feeling it will hurt, even then.
I know I can’t keep him. I know this is casual and fun, and just what I need right now. But I know it will hurt like a motherfucker.
“Sadie…” Sandy breaks my silence.
“Yeah?”
“I won’t cross off possessive.”
“Thank you.”
I know she knows exactly what I’m thinking. And I’m grateful she doesn’t force me to talk about it more.
“I think I’ll head to bed, Dee.”
“Sure. Don’t overthink this, Sades.”
I end the call with a soft chuckle. She knows there’s absolutely no chance for me to not overthink this, but she still tries.
Asher exits the car and runs straight into my arms, his backpack dropping to the floor.
“Did you have fun at Dad’s?” I ask, planting a kiss on his cheek.
Liv trails slowly behind him, her dark hair covering her face, like a scary kid in a horror movie. Still, she gets as close as Asher and lets me press a kiss to her cheek, too.
“I did, but I missed my room.” Asher shrugs.
“You, hon?” I place a hand around Liv’s shoulders.
She shoots me a pointed look, not dignifying my question with a response. Her eyes are glossy, like she’s been holding back tears.
“How about you take your stuff upstairs, Ash? Get those dirty clothes into the hamper?”
He doesn’t respond, but rushes inside the house to, hopefully, do what I said .
With my arm around her, I lead my daughter into the house and sit on the stairs. “What happened, Liv?”
“Same old.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
“Want to tell me about it?”
Unsurprisingly, she averts her gaze. Surprisingly, the next words out of her mouth are, “Will Logan be here in the afternoon tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure. I can ask him if you want me to.” She dips her head, before grabbing her bag and heading upstairs.
I’m so glad she feels confident when she’s working with Logan, but soon he’ll be gone, and I don’t know which one of us will be hurt more.