Chapter 32
thirty-two
Stomach giddy with butterflies, I step inside and rest my forehead against the closed front door, listening to the rumble of Brex’s truck as it fades away.
Kicking off my shoes, I drop my bag on the floor in the entryway and make a beeline for my bedroom.
The room is cool and dim, curtains still drawn from when I closed them the night before.
With a heavy sigh, I sink onto the edge of my bed.
What the hell was I thinking agreeing to go to the gala as his date? My mind reels as images of what happened between us in Portland and in the woods—not to mention the kiss he just landed—ping-pong in my head.
My fingers drift to my lips, still tingling from the pressure of his mouth. I can still taste him. Smell the warm, spicy scent of his skin.
And Logan... what will he think when he sees us walk in together?
The thought sends a flutter of anxiety into the center of my throat. He’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with me, but the way he acted during my orientation and how he was looking at me back at the station despite his sister being all up in his face, tells a much different story.
I flop back onto the mattress, with a groan. This is getting way too complicated.
Logan and Brex. Brex and Logan.
Dark and Broody. Hot and Smirky.
Gah!
With a groan, I push myself up and head into my walk-in closet to change into something more comfortable.
I rummage around until I find my favorite pair of black joggers and an oversized sweatshirt. Big enough that it hangs past my fingertips, it’s soft, the scent of laundry detergent filling my nose.
Grabbing my favorite fuzzy blanket and a pillow off the bed, I head into the living room.
Late afternoon light streams through the windows, casting warm patterns across the hardwood floor. I toss my makeshift nest onto the couch and make my way into the kitchen.
The pantry offers plenty in the way of comfort food—microwave popcorn, a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels, and a large bag of salty chips. Perfect.
Grabbing an ice-cold can of Coke from the fridge, I spread my snacks out on the coffee table, grab the remote and settle in. A horror movie sounds like just the ticket I need to keep my mind off the chaos that is my love life right now.
As I’m scrolling through streaming options, my phone buzzes with a text.
LIZZY
Girls’ night at your place in 20. Bringing wine and takeout.
I smile despite myself. Leave it to Lizzy to know exactly when I need my friends.
Fine. But only because you’re bringing food.
LIZZY
Tacos or Chinese?
Surprise me.
LIZZY
Tossing my phone onto the coffee table, I sink deeper into the couch and press play on The Babysitter. Twenty minutes of mindless entertainment before the hurricane that is my girl group gets here.
But I can’t focus. My mind keeps drifting to how Brex’s eyes darkened right before he kissed me, his thumb pressing into my bottom lip, and the authority in his voice when he told me what time he’d be picking me up.
And Logan. Always lurking in the back of my mind.
The way he woke me up and held me after my nightmare, the gentleness in his touch when he wiped away my tears.
For a moment, his walls were down, and I saw him.
The same man from our sexalicious filled weekend at Hotel Indigo in Portland. Wild, hot as fuck and so much fun.
My phone buzzes again.
brEX
How’s your head?
Still attached.
brEX
Brat. Take it easy, Pretty. TTYS.
I smile down at my phone, warmth spreading through my chest.
The sound of tires on gravel outside makes me look up. Lizzy’s Jeep is pulling up, Sasha and Noia in tow.
Perfect timing. Hopefully, the girls will be enough of a distraction to keep me from obsessing over two men I can’t seem to stop thinking about, no matter how hard I try.
Lizzy, Sasha, and Noia hustle into my house, arms loaded with takeout bags and bottles of wine.
“Calvary’s here!” Lizzy announces, kicking the door shut behind her.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Sasha adds, setting bags filled with Chinese food containers down on the coffee table. “We got enough to feed a small army.”
Noia holds up two bottles of red wine. “And, of course, we brought the good stuff.”
I laugh, tucking my legs under me to make room on the couch. “You didn’t have to go all out.”
“Seriously,” Lizzy scoffs, dropping down beside me. “After the shit day you’ve had? You deserve it.”
“Besides,” Noia says, uncorking one of the bottles. “We need an update on the two hotties who want to boink you sitch.”
I groan, sinking deeper into my blanket.
Grabbing some plates and silverware from the kitchen, Sasha sets them down on the table and pops a squat on the floor.
“Logan called,” Lizzy says. “Told me he had Brex bring you home and that you could probably use some girl time. I think he felt a little bad about kicking us out before.”
“He did?”
“Of course, he did. I told you… he’s got it bad. Just can’t admit it to himself or anyone else.”
“Did Brex just drop you off or…?” Sasha trails off, digging into one of the takeout bags.
“He asked me to be his date to the Firefighter’s Charity Gala this weekend,” I blurt. “Then he kissed me and left.”
The room erupts in a chorus of excited chatter.
“Shut up!” Lizzy grabs my arm, shaking it excitedly. “That’s huge!”
I shrug. “I guess so.”
“You guess so?” Noia asks, pouring wine with one hand while gesturing wildly with the other. “Come on. He’s so hot for you.”
I accept the glass Noia practically shoves into my hand and take a long sip. “He’s picking me up at seven on Saturday.”
“This is awesome!” Lizzy exclaims, snapping her chopsticks apart.
“The gala will be the perfect setting. Romantic lighting, music, dancing...” She bounces her eyebrows.
“No doubt, Logan is going to lose his shit when he finds out your Brex’s date.
Maybe this will be what finally pushes him over the edge. ”
“We’re just going as friends.”
They burst into laughter, shaking their heads.
Yeah, I wouldn’t believe me either.
“If you say so,” Sasha says around a bite of orange chicken, pointing her chopsticks in my direction. “Remember we’re going dress shopping in a couple of days.”
“Speaking of,” Lizzy says, her expression turning apologetic. “I’m not gonna be able to go shopping with you. Rowan is wrapping up his movie in L.A., and I promised I’d be there for the final few days of filming The Treehouse.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment. “I’m excited to see it when it comes out next year.”
She nods, giving me a bright smile. “Me too. It’s been in post-production for the past month and they’re just wrapping up. I’m flying out tomorrow morning.”
“Lucky,” Noia sighs. “I’d kill to be on set, watching Rowan do his thing.”
“It is pretty fun,” Lizzy sighs. “The flurry of all the action. Watching him order people around and get all serious about his craft…” She shudders. “So hot.”
“Well, I won’t be able to make it either,” Noia says, loading up her plate with fried rice. “Ryder and I are heading to Seattle for the weekend. Some tattoo convention he’s been dying to go to.”
“Which means,” Sasha grins. “Jax and I will be representing Skin & Ink at the gala. Those two are always sticking their fingers into every charity pie in town.”
“Jax and Ryder have raised over one hundred thousand dollars for various causes over the last two years,” Lizzy points out. “It’s kind of their thing.”
Lizzy has been working with Jax and Ryder at Skin & Ink as a tattoo artist for years. She’s also an up-and-coming painter. A few months ago, Rowan showed up after being gone for almost fifteen years.
Along with her brother, all three grew up together as besties. He ghosted her the summer after high school to become an actor, but he came home to Lakeside to win her back. And make a movie about their lives. He’s also been People’s Sexiest Man Alive... twice.
Talk about romantic.
The conversation shifts to talk of Noia’s next novel and Sasha’s plans for Summit Studio as we settle in to eat.
I’m halfway through my beef and broccoli when Lizzy snatches up the remote with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Nope. We are not watching whatever this is.” She gestures at the screen to where I paused the horror flick I picked earlier. “We need something with heart. And steam.”
She scrolls through my Passionflix app with a wicked gleam in her eye.
“Ah-ha!” she crows. “Here it is.”
The title card fills my screen in elegant cursive: My Only One.
It’s a Rowan Cole movie from a few years ago. Based on a best-selling novel, it’s one of many that earned him a Golden Globe nomination.
“Really?” I groan, dropping my head back against the couch. “Your boyfriend’s movie? On girls’ night?”
“Excuse me,” Lizzy admonishes, crossing her legs pretzel-style on the couch. “He’s my fiancé. And this is a masterpiece.”
Noia snorts into her wine glass. “So she says. Every time.”
For years, Lizzy refused to watch Rowan’s movies. That’s how pissed she was at him. But now that they’re back together and in love, she can’t get enough.
“I say it because it’s true.” Lizzy presses play, and the opening scene unfolds. It’s a rainy night in New York City, and Rowan’s character is standing under an awning, watching the woman of his dreams walk away after a botched first date.
The woman, played by Carrie Southern—model turned actress and Rowan’s other BFF—was a source of contention between him and Lizzy at the beginning of their newfound relationship. Now, Lizzy and Carrie are becoming fast friends.
I’ve seen this movie more times than I can count, mostly because Rowan Cole has been one of my favorite actors for years. There’s something comforting about it. Familiar. His movies always feel like coming home. At least, how I know it now.
Before my life as I knew it was torn to shreds, and I had to put the pieces back together. All by myself.