Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CORMAC
THE FAIRY GODMOTHERS GROUP CHAT
Ann: How’d that ice cream work out for you?
Me: Haven’t gotten to it yet.
Ann: What in tarnation have you been waiting for, son? It’s been days, and there’s a heat wave going on.
It’s Friday night, and I’m at the boxing gym with Liam and Mick.
Nora sent me a single text after leaving the other night—You don’t need to do this. I’m sorry. I should never have asked. I need some space to think about everything—and hasn’t responded to any of the follow-up texts I’ve sent her over the last several days.
I felt sure I had a winner on my hands when I messaged her on Wednesday evening to say I’d sent messages to both of Pansy’s exes and was waiting for them to respond.
But she didn’t say a word. Didn’t even thumbs-up the text. And she didn’t respond when I told her that I’d heard from Pansy herself yesterday.
Pansy had said she was sorry I had a stomach virus and couldn’t make it on Thursday, but she’d really like to get together with me soon.
I sent a screenshot of the text to Nora and asked:
Couldn’t you have told her I have whooping cough? Why’d you have to give me diarrhea?
I figured I’d get something in response to that message. A laugh emoji maybe. Or at least a simple fuck you. But no, Nora has made it clear she’s ignoring me.
Maybe what I said is unforgivable, just like the stupid things I’ve said to ruin other relationships.
Maybe there’s no fixing this, and she hates me again, only this time she’ll always hate me.
Worse: I think I fucked up so badly that Nora’s mom caught wind of my screwup, because my father has asked me to have a man-to-man talk. I managed to put him off temporarily by adopting Nora’s excuse of the stomach virus. I figured, why not be consistent?
The talk will need to happen eventually, though. We Peebles men are nothing if not persistent.
Oh well. He can hardly be more disappointed in me than I am in myself.
I take another jab at the heavy bag, needing to feel its weight against my hand. I shouldn’t be going at it this hard, not when we have another show this weekend, but I need to feel the pain.
“Someone’s pissed off tonight,” Liam says as I throw another punch, my fist aching in the glove.
I remove the gloves and then sit on the closest wooden bench and bury my head in my sweaty hands. Normally, I’d be thinking about all the germs that probably infest every surface of Bell’s. Now…well, I’m still thinking about it, but I can’t bring myself to care.
“Yeah, so I’m grabbing Mick for this,” Liam says.
I don’t bother telling him no. Liam will do as he likes, always does.
Mick is on the treadmill in the far corner, running while he watches YouTube on his phone. He loves watching conspiracy theory videos. Not because he believes them, he insists, but because “you should always make sure you’re aware of the stupid shit other people believe.”
Liam releases a piercing wolf whistle, and a few seconds later, Mick comes bounding up, sweating and jogging in place. “What the fuck? What’s up?”
“Cormac’s ready to tell us what’s on his mind.”
I shake my head, annoyed. “Something’s always on my mind. Too much is always on my mind.”
“He doesn’t sound ready,” Mick comments, bouncing between his feet. “Lemme get the scotch.”
“You want to drink scotch, now?”
His answer is to jog to the front of the gym.
“Should I call Rob and Travis to come join us?” Liam asks, his mouth lifted in a partial smile. “We can give whatever happened a big group think.”
He’s fucking with me. He knows I won’t want a bigger audience for this…whatever this is.
I don’t particularly want to tell Liam and Mick about what’s going on with Nora either. I doubt Liam’s ever had trouble winning over a woman he was seriously interested in, and Mick’s only ever been seriously interested in getting laid.
“You know I don’t,” I confirm, although I don’t try to put him off. I need to talk to someone, and I don’t feel like telling Dottie and Ann that I messed up this bad.
Mick returns with a bottle of scotch and three of the disposable paper cups he keeps by the water dispenser. He sits beside me on the bench and fills three cups to the brim, and we each take one of them.
“I really fucked up,” I announce.
“Join the club.” Mick knocks me on the back with his open palm with nearly enough power to send me off the bench.
“Nora won’t answer any of my messages.” I take a big gulp of the scotch, and Mick frowns at me.
“Slow down, that’s the good stuff.”
Liam laughs. “Yeah, you’re supposed to get drunk slowly, with style.”
Mick flicks a thumb at him. “See, he gets it.”
“I told her I have feelings for her.”
“No shit,” Mick says. “You’ve been talking about her for weeks. It didn’t go well? Was she weird about it because she’s kind of your sister now?”
Liam laughs and shoves his shoulder. “She’s not his fucking sister. Cool it with that.”
I set the cup down and burrow my head between my hands. “I think I said something really stupid.”
“No doubt,” Liam says. “Did you apologize?”
I look up, feeling like an idiot. “What?”
“Holy shit, he didn’t apologize,” Mick crows, laughing.
I feel like the stupidest man alive. Earlier this week, I told Nora she should apologize to her mother, and on the very same night, I failed to apologize to her.
I’ve sent her plenty of texts, and none of them have included anything approaching an apology. While I don’t think I was wrong, necessarily, I was definitely a dick. I can apologize for that, at least.
“Should I text her?”
Liam snorts. “Why don’t you send her a gif?”
“Really?”
“No, not really. Put your gloves away. We’re going to The Ginger Station.”
“Hey, you think her cousin will be there?” Mick asks.
“Who?” I say, already focused on our mission.
“Hazel.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since the wedding.”
“Me neither.”
He looks perturbed, which is amusing since Mick never loses his cool over women. He always seems to know exactly what he’s doing—or he’s very good at pretending to know.
“Shouldn’t we change first?” I glance down at my gym shorts and sweaty T-shirt.
“She’ll think you’re more sincere if you look like shit,” Liam insists.
He’d know, I suppose.
“What’re we gonna do with the scotch?” Mick asks, eyeing the cups. “That’s good scotch.”
“Drink it. I’ll drive, you maniac. But Cormac should have his own car.”
I agree, and a few minutes later I’m driving out of the parking lot, tailing Liam.
I turn on the radio, hoping it’ll help settle my nerves, and a talk show is playing. Two seconds in, I nearly plow into Liam’s car, because the guy introduces himself as Vernon Leigh.
“Now, here’s the thing about lying, folks. If you get good at it, you become the lie. You wear it every day, along with your clothes. If you want to know what makes a good lie, it’s this. If you believe it, so will they.”
My hands white-knuckle the wheel, and I flick the button to change the station.
What an asshole. No wonder Nora has trouble trusting people.
I’m still steamed up by the time I park outside The Ginger Station, a few spaces behind my friends.
When I get out of the car, Mick eyes me doubtfully. “You don’t look like you’re about to apologize. You look like you’re about ready to punch someone in the face.”
“I’m feeling very apologetic,” I insist. “The person I want to punch is Nora’s father, but I don’t know where he is. It seems pretty unlikely he’d be at the brewery tonight.”
Liam grins. “Well, we’ll bail you out if you get arrested.”
We head into the tasting room together, and once we get inside, I experience a moment of doubt, maybe even panic. What am I doing here?
If Nora wanted to see me, she probably would have responded to my texts. Or answered one of the desperate calls I made when the texts didn’t work.
She’s upset. She doesn’t like what I said to her, and I understand why. I pulled back a bandage and revealed a wound she’d thought had healed.
“Well, we’re gonna get a drink,” Liam says, clapping me on the back. “We’re here if you need us.”
I glance around, heart in my throat, but I don’t see either Nora or José out on the floor.
“Wait. Where’s—” I cut myself off. There is such a thing as stupid questions, after all, and they wouldn’t know where she is any better than I do.
“You’ll do great, buddy,” Liam says. “And if she’s not here, we’ll try again tomorrow night.”
I’m sure he means it. Liam’s a good friend. Even though he has plenty of work to do, not to mention a wedding to plan with his fiancée, he would come back here if I needed him to. Same goes for Mick.
As they make their way to the bar, I take a step deeper into the tasting room—and then stop, feeling like an idiot. She’s probably in her office.
With my heart thumping and my hands as sweaty as they were in high school during my one and only game of seven minutes in heaven, I head into the back hallway—and bump directly into José when I take the final turn toward Nora’s office.
He frowns at me. “I thought you had some kind of vicious stomach virus.”
“Uh, yeah, it’s bad,” I say. Remembering what Nora’s father said on his show, I groan dramatically and try to channel every actual stomach virus I’ve ever experienced. “It’s horrible.”
His brow crease deepens. “You want to get other people sick?”
It’s a reasonable question, but he’s acting hostile. Like I’m stepping all over his toes just because I’m here to visit my girlfriend.
Fake girlfriend.
“Have you got a problem with me?” I ask.
He takes a step back and leans against the wall. “Of course not. You be good to Nora, we’ll have no issues with each other.”
“Same goes for you.”
He cocks his head as if he finds it inconceivable that I’d challenge him, but I don’t regret what I said.
To be perfectly honest, it has nothing to do with the whole fake relationship setup. It’s good for him to know where I stand. If he hurts her, I’ll find a way to make him pay.
“No need to get all wound up.”
“Have a good night.” I push past him and down the hall, my mind working overtime.