24. Bryn
Chapter twenty-four
Bryn
“Oh…my…God,” Becca deadpans.
“Wow there, Janice. No need to go all Friends on us,” I say, propping my feet up on the extra desk they have in their office space.
Izzy shoots my white sneakers a disapproving look. “More details, Bryn. You can’t just casually drop that you ended up just ‘staying with Jameo’ and not give us more details.”
I most certainly can. In fact, I have no plans on telling them about how, after waking up to Jameson’s alarm clock on Friday morning, we’d taken turns eating each other for breakfast. Or how, after he knew he made the final group on Saturday, we’d been twenty minutes late meeting Lila and JT for dinner because we’d been so wrapped up in celebrating. Or how on Sunday, after he’d gotten second, he’d all but begged me to take the next few days off so I could come to his house in Florida with him to relax before his tournament this weekend.
Izzy continues, “Also, there are these newfangled things the kids are using these days called cell phones. You could, and I’m just spitballing here, text us this news so we aren’t getting it a week later. Or, and this is getting really crazy, you could pick up the phone and call us. God, what I wouldn’t give to have been on the receiving end of a FaceTime from you in Jameson Walker’s bathroom.”
I snap my eyes up to meet Izzy’s, my focus fully on her now. “Why am I FaceTiming you from the bathroom in this situation? We’ve been over this more times than I feel is appropriate for people our age, Iz. You cannot FaceTime people in the bathroom.”
She pulls her long brown hair, which is so similar to mine, back into a bun at the nape of her neck. “First, it’s called Face Time. I don’t know why you can’t see my face while I’m peeing. It’s not like I do it if I’m going number two. Second, because you clearly need to be in a room where the door can close so you can tell us all the dirty details while Jameson is in a post-sex coma on the bed.”
“Do you have a third, or are we just making lists out of two things these days?”
She flips me off, directing her other middle finger at Becca when she starts laughing too.
“It felt like news that could keep, especially since I spent the whole weekend at the course, where phones are very frowned upon.”
Becca looks up from her computer, swiveling in her chair to give me her full attention. “Honestly, Bryn, I can’t believe you’re dating Jameson Walker. Partly because he looked fucking hot as he tapped in that last putt to get second this weekend, but also because he is a dick. Like a certifiable douche canoe. You of all people tend to avoid dating anyone with dick tendencies.”
“Why do you hate him so much, Becca? I mean, I know I started the Dick thing that weekend, but you never get on board with me hating people.” A flashback from that awful end to our night at Cattlemens floats through my memory. “You were even rude to him that weekend at the bar.”
Izzy’s head tilts to the side. “That’s true. You were. And even when he came into the office to get Bryn’s number, you were pumped about meeting JT and were super friendly to him but barely even looked at Jameson. Did he do something to you?”
Shit. Did he?
Sighing, Becca rolls her eyes before she says, “No. But also, not no.” Izzy and I both continue to stare at her, waiting.
Finally, I crack. “Care to expand, Becca?” I ask, somewhat more harshly than absolutely necessary, but gosh. If he did something that would make Becca of all people this mad at him, I need to know now before I fall even further for the guy.
“Ugh! Fine.” She throws up her hands dramatically. “If you must know, before I left the course that first weekend, I went to find him to talk some sense into him about how awesome you are. I found him in the workout room, and he, like the Dick he is, assumed I was there to hit on him and basically told me to go fuck myself before I ever even had a chance to say anything.”
That doesn’t sound like the Jameson I know now, but it definitely is par for the course for the guy who had his heart ripped out by his girlfriend, had his career take a huge hit because he couldn’t get his head on straight, and was licking his wounds at the most remote private golf course he could find.
Izzy looks at me, her eyes wide, questioning what she should do.
“He never mentioned it to me,” I say. “But, to be fair to him, I saw the way women will just hit on him wherever he goes. I’m not saying he was right to treat you like that, Becca, but I can see how that would quickly become his go-to response. I’ll make sure he apologizes next time he sees you.”
“I don’t need an apology.”
I drop my feet to the ground and lean forward, my elbows on my knees. “Clearly, you do. You’ve been holding on to this for a while now.”
“Well, I’m not a floozy!”
Izzy and I both start, taken aback by the outburst. “Of course you’re not. What’s going on with you?”
Becca’s cheeks turn pink, and she focuses back on her computer screen. “Nothing. I just don’t like that I was trying to do something kind, and he just assumed the worst in me.”
“Okaaay. Well, I’ll make sure he understands how rude he was.” I shoot my sister a look, but she just shrugs. I guess she doesn’t know what’s going on with Becca either.
Taking the hint, Izzy changes the subject. “So, Bryn, have you decided what you’re going to do for Thanksgiving this year?”
“You mean after you all decided to go to Europe for the week, knowing I can’t be out of the country on fucking Black Friday?”
“Yep. That’s exactly what I mean. Did you find any time during your sex dungeon weekend to ask Jameson what he is going to be up to?”
I throw a pen at her head. “What the fuck is wrong with you? How do you hear that we spent the weekend together in a suite at a Vegas hotel and somehow that gets changed to a sex dungeon? Jeez Louise. And no, I did not casually drop the fact that I’m without Thanksgiving plans because my family are assholes who couldn’t travel to Scotland literally any other week of the year.”
She, too, turns back to her computer. “Testy, testy. Seems to me like a normal thing to mention to your boyfriend—sex dungeon or not.”
“Ugh. You are the worst,” I say, before opening my laptop, tucking my AirPods into my ears, and getting back to work.
Two hours later, my phone rings with a FaceTime call from Jameo. After he came in second to JT last Sunday, our celebration had gotten cut short by my flight to Vancouver for work. Despite his repeated requests for me to ditch work and come to Florida with him, I was needed in Canada, and there was no way I could miss out on that prime work opportunity to go play hooky with him, no matter how much I wanted to.
I was surprised when, ten minutes after arriving at my hotel in Vancouver, Jameo called me via FaceTime. He was waiting for one of his private pilots to arrive to prepare the plane and fly him to his house. We spent over an hour talking about everything, from our histories, to his tournament, to what his schedule looks like for the next few months.
Because he needs to get more FedEx Cup points, the end of his year is busy. But, according to Jameson, that shouldn’t keep us from having a normal relationship where you talk every day and know what’s going on in each other’s lives, so we’ve both made an effort this week to stay in pretty regular communication. We typically text off and on throughout the day, and then we FaceTime at night.
Today was the first day of his tournament in Houston, and, according to my ESPN alert, he finished his round about an hour ago.
“Hey, Jameo,” I answer, raising my phone so he can see my face.
I see both Becca’s and Izzy’s heads lift, unabashedly eavesdropping on our call.
“Hey, B. How’s Wild Bluffs?”
I turn the camera around, giving him a view of the whole office. “Terrible company, but otherwise not so bad.”
Izzy butts in, “You are welcome to stop treating our office like your personal WeWork any time you want. It really won’t hurt our feelings.”
“Hey, Izzy. Hi, Becca.” Jameson waves from my phone screen.
Iz holds up two fingers, flashing him a peace sign, while Becca opts for a one-fingered salute—the middle-finger kind.
I turn Jameson back around before telling him, “Becca is still upset about how big of a dick you were to her when she tried to talk to you out at the golf course.”
Becca throws a pen of her own at me. “I told you I didn’t need you to mention it to him!”
Looking apologetic, Jameson asks me to turn him back around before saying, “I’m glad she did mention it, though, Becca. I should’ve apologized to you when I came to ask for Bryn’s number. I was a complete dick. Sorry.”
Shrugging, she replies, “It’s really not a big deal. But for the record, I was definitely not hitting on you.”
Turning him to face me again, I say, “Well, that was fun.”
“Hey, Jameo,” Izzy yells from across the room. “We were just talking about you.” I can tell she’s scheming something by the evil glint to her eye, and I most certainly don’t want to stick around to find out what it is. I stand, shoving my laptop back into my bag.
“All good things, I hope?” he yells back.
I’m almost out the door but don’t make it out in time before Izzy responds, “Just wondering what you were up to for Thanksgiving, since B is home alone and all.”
He watches my face closely as I push my way out the door, shooting Iz the bird over my shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were home alone for Thanksgiving? Where will your family be?”
“They are all going on a weeklong vacation to Scotland and Ireland. However, I have to be around on Black Friday because it’s a huge day for our online platform, so it doesn’t make sense for me to go with them.”
“But why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m sure you’ve got plans, and I didn’t want you to feel obligated to invite me out of pity.”
“B, I want to spend every spare second I can with you. No obligation. Please, come to Ohio with me to do Thanksgiving with my family. JT comes every year, so it’s not even like it’s just family or something. If anything, you should do it out of pity for me—dealing with JT and Lila together requires all the pity.”
I bite my bottom lip, thinking. “I’d have to fly out that night so I can be at headquarters all day on Friday.”
“Done. We always eat around one, anyway. Please? Just come.”
I smile. “Fine. I’d actually really like that.”