Chapter 15
Tessa
"Okay, this is definitely not what I had in mind when you said I could come over." Brooke looks over her shoulder at her fiancé and his best friend—both shirtless and balancing on step stools with paint rollers in their hands.
"What's up, Tess?" Drew throws out, reaching to get the spots closest to the edge where the ceiling meets the wall.
"Heller!" his friend sings, rolling on a thick coat of paint above his head.
Brooke turns back to me with a shrug. "Sorry, I didn't know there were rules."
"There aren't," I groan as I step inside. "I'm just not in the mood to be around their kind right now."
"Hockey players?"
"Men."
Brooke raises a brow that screams We've had this conversation. "What'd he do now?"
I look at the ceiling, the majority of it painted a bright off-white color, then behind her at the guys finishing what's left.
"Oh, don't worry," she says. "Drew doesn't care, and Brett will have no idea what you're talking about."
“Who now?” the friend calls, wobbling on his stool.
“Who is that?” I whisper, leaning toward Brooke.
The problem with Drew's friends is unless their last names are plastered on their backs and their heads are covered by helmets, I barely recognize them.
"That's Burnsey—Brett Burns." I stare at her blankly. "Drew's best friend? Number 7? Oh! He's dating Liam's old nanny."
"What?" I whisper-shout, forcing a smile as the guys glance our way. Of course. As if this day could get any worse.
Brooke snorts, grabbing my attention. "Oh my God, he's harmless."
"InstaBrooke, look!" Brett calls in perfect timing.
We both lean forward to look at the odd figure he's pointing to that he's drawn out in paint.
"Wait, is that a penis?" Brooke asks, squinting.
Drew looks up from the corner he's working on and spots Brett's artwork. "Really, Burnsey? You're drawing dicks on my ceiling?"
Brett's face falls drastically. "It's a microphone," he says sadly, his shoulders slouched forward. "You know… for Brooke's job and…" His voice fades out as he scans his work.
Drew shakes his head. "That's a fucking dick, dude."
He tilts his head and frowns. "Huh. It kind of is."
Brooke and I lose it, and for the first time since lunch my chest doesn't feel so tight.
"See?" she says, turning to me. "Now, spill."
My smile fades as I fold my arms, adjusting my weight. "Trevor pretty much said I think of everyone but him."
Her eyes grow wide. "That's because he thinks about himself enough for the both of you!"
"Yeah." I nod, my jaw tight. "I think I'm finally ready to admit that."
She sighs, loops her elbow through mine, and pulls me into the room next door. The living room—with its drop-cloth covered couches and that ottoman that started the whole interview debacle—leads into some sort of den.
This one's cozy, with its fireplace, bulky sofa, and soft light streaming in. My mind immediately goes to the familiar space in Liam's house, and a new wave of anger washes over me as the subject reminds me of the reason I'm here. Once again, I groan.
"I thought I could do this," I admit, dropping onto the couch.
I pull a warm, fuzzy blanket into my lap and ball it up rather than drape it over me.
"Just ignore all his bullshit. But the past few weeks have been too much.
I mean, he's giving me shit about doing my job instead of going away with him, when all he does when we're together is sit on his phone, bet on sports, and watch dudes roll around with each other. "
Brooke tilts her head as she falls onto the cushion next to me. "Are you sure it's sports he's watching…"
I laugh to myself. "You know what I mean."
She smiles, then her face softens. "I know exactly what you mean, Tess.
And I'm just gonna say it—the guy sucks.
Sure, he's hot, and he has a good job, but he treats you like dirt.
Or at least like you're less than. You have so much to offer, but all he sees when he looks at you is a hot piece of ass and someone to take care of him. "
I roll my eyes. "God, we're awful together."
Her face crinkles as she nods apologetically. "I'm inclined to agree."
I exhale, feeling seen, the air already lighter. "How come you've never said that before?"
Brooke runs her hand over the pillow between us. "Because I know you aren't head over heels for him—you've said it yourself. I figured you were just coasting until you were ready to end it."
I toy with the edge of the blanket, realizing she’s right. I was coasting. I knew exactly what the relationship was—temporary, convenient. And so did he. I let his douchiness slide because he checked a few boxes that looked good on paper. That kept things comfortable.
But I’m done.
"Well, I'm over that now." I groan. "God, what is wrong with me?"
Brooke turns toward me and lays her head on the back cushion of the couch. "Eh, don't be so hard on yourself. We're all just figuring this shit out. Sometimes it's not settling until you realize that there's better out there. You only know what you know… ya know?"
I smirk, nudging her knee. "Yeah." I glance around, finally noticing the deep red accent wall behind the mantle. "Hey, you did the maroon."
"Eh, sort of," she says, scrunching her nose. "I wasn't ready to commit to the real thing, so I did this temporarily. Just enough to test the waters."
I chuckle to myself before my face falls flat. "Been there."
Brooke laughs and slaps my leg. "So, what now?"
My eyes meet hers as my chest tightens. I have no idea what happens next. "I don't know. I said I wasn't going back tonight. I guess maybe I'll call my sister or something."
"Aren't you traveling with Liam and Ruthie this weekend?"
I lift one shoulder. "I guess not. He never actually asked me to go. I told you he's been weird with me."
"Hmm, I'm not either this time." She looks down at the accent rug beneath our feet. "You can always stay at the old apartment. It's just your boxes, anyway. Or here if you want to. We could kick Drew out and have us a girls' weekend."
I press my lips together. "Thanks, but I trashed my bed when I moved, and you guys are still getting settled. I'll just call my—"
Buzzing from my purse cuts me off. I dig my phone out of my crossbody, confused when I see the name on the screen isn't Trevor's. Somehow that makes it worse—or better. I can't decide.
"Hello?" I ask, looking at Brooke. She furrows her brow, searching for details.
"Oh, hi," I say, holding up my finger. "Yeah, that's no problem. I'm sure, really. Okay, I'll see you then."
"Who was that?" Brooke asks, barely waiting long enough for me to end the call to start prying.
I look down at my phone, still a little stunned. "Liam. He just asked me to go with them this weekend."
Her eyes go wide. "Well, well, well. Would you look at that?"
I slide the blanket off my legs and scoot closer to the edge of the sofa. "I wonder what made him change his mind."
Brooke shrugs. "Who cares? You just bought yourself three nights to figure out a new living situation."
I laugh under my breath as I stand, grateful that she's right. "I better go then. I want to pack before Trevor gets home."
Brooke joins me as I walk back into the living room. "Seriously, if you need a place to stay when you get back from Grand Oaks, we have plenty of room."
"Thanks, but I don't want to intrude."
Brooke shakes her head. "Oh, stop, you're fine. Drew and I would survive a few days."
I look behind her at her fiancé and his best friend wiping streaks of paint off of each other's cheeks. "Oh, I wasn't talking about you two."
She creases her brow and follows my gaze. Smiling, she turns back to me. "Aren't they adorable? It's like I'm marrying into a boy band."
"Only they skate and hit rather than sing and dance."
Brooke holds her hand up, stopping me. "Eh, sometimes they do both."
My mind wanders back to the video she showed me of Drew asking her to be his girlfriend by serenading her on the ice. He sang MGK's Cliché while dancing on skates with Brett and his two other teammates as backups.
"You got yourself a good one," I say, smiling from the memory. My face falls as the next thought surfaces—the reminder of what I'm going back to. Of another ending.
“Hey,” Brooke says softly, reading my expression. “Go to Grand Oaks and clear your head. Use the time to think about things.”
I nod, wrapping my arms around her. "Thanks, B. I will."
She squeezes back. "Of course. Have fun this weekend. Oh, and bring a bathing suit."
I look at her half-confused and half-intrigued.
"Just trust me," she says.
I smile, then glance once more at the guys—Drew grinning and shaking his head at a paint-streaked Brett—then head out. “See ya later, boys."
Pushing open Trevor's apartment door feels harder today.
Like the weight of the unknown is stacked behind it, slowing my entrance.
Everything has happened so fast—I went from dating Trevor, staying home this weekend, and not really knowing where I stand with Liam to ending things with Trevor, traveling with the Gators, and well…
still not really knowing where I stand with Liam.
The good news is that my mood has lifted. On the drive back here, I realized that as shitty as a break-up will be, I've prepared for this all along.
We already weren't together much because of our schedules, and recently, even when we were physically in the same place, we were never really present and connected.
That's the reason I don't know any of the people he seems to be friendly with at work and why my siblings literally can't even remember his first name.
We lived side-by-side but separately, in love with the idea of each other, but not actually invested.
We were technically together, but basically alone.
And that was fine at the time.
With that in mind, I almost feel better as I step inside, still hoping he hasn't made it home yet. Maybe this will just… end. Amicably, clean. I mean, deep down, we always knew this was coming. I'd rather just move on.
The place is empty, thank God. No lights on, no TV humming in the background. In fact, the apartment is almost peaceful, as if it knows our time together is coming to an end—dark, still, silent except for…
What is that?
I freeze, my grasp tightening around the strap of my purse pulled across my chest. A clink rings out like metal tossed to the floor, followed by a high-pitched… was that a giggle?
My stomach drops as I force myself to move.
I step slowly, grabbing ahold of the counter and bracing my weight against the cool marble I wiped clean this morning.
With my eyes burrowing through the cracked bedroom door, I take one step at a time across the kitchen, my eyes only sweeping the rest of the space when I notice Trevor's tie draped over the dining room chair.
Wasn't he wearing that this morning? And at lunch?
I glance around, the shuffling from the bedroom growing louder, and that's when I see his keys on the end table next to the phone charger he asked to use last night.
Everything is so close to normal, I almost think I'm imagining the sounds that keep sneaking into the living room.
But then, through the sudden painful silence, Trevor's low voice slips out—husky, breathy.
“Just like that.”
And I know I’m not crazy.
I never was.
I shove the door open, and his head snaps up first, only seconds before his eyes meet mine. "Tess?" he breathes from the edge of our bed, his hand still intertwined in the brunette hair in front of him.
For a second, everything goes quiet again—the kind of stillness that hums in your ears as they find their own heartbeat. But then laughter breaks through, pulling me back to reality.
I don't realize it's mine until the woman on her knees sprints to her feet, her eyes wider than Trevor's as he gathers himself. "Oh, this is good," I manage to say. "I never think of you, right, Trev? Well, thank God because this would be a tough image to shake."
"Fuck, Tess," he mutters, scrambling to zip up his grey work pants. "I thought you weren't coming back tonight."
"Clearly," I say flatly.
The woman—that woman from the office—in a black pencil skirt and matching blazer grabs her phone from the dresser.
She pulls her jacket closed as she slinks toward me, the fabric pulling across her chest where her company badge hangs—the same one Trevor wears to the office every morning.
"Sorry," she mutters, sliding past me and darting toward the front door.
"Honestly, don't be," I toss over my shoulder. My eyes stay pinned on Trevor's until the front door slams shut and his face hardens in front of me. "Nice."
"It's not what you think," he argues, his cheeks flushed.
"Oh, so you weren't just getting sucked off by Finance Barbie?"
"This was the first time," he spits out as if that's supposed to mean something.
A laugh seeps out again, no real humor behind it. "Well, in that case… " I say sarcastically.
Trevor looks at me, disgust coating his expression. "Don't play all high and mighty with me, Tessa," he spits, his voice sharp. "Look me in the eye, and tell me you're not fucking Liam Mongtomery."
My mouth drops open as I recall every time I looked at Liam's round, rock-hard ass and felt guilty for even noticing it existed. "I am not sleeping with Liam."
He shakes his head. "Yeah, well… you might as well be."
"Oh my God, think what you want." I bark out a laugh, throw my hands in the air, and walk toward the closet. "It doesn't even matter anymore. I'm leaving for Grand Oaks tonight with the Gators, and I'll make sure all my stuff is gone before I get back."
"Fine," he says like a child who didn't get his way. "You know, you were right. We both knew this would end eventually."
I scoff, pulling my favorite icy blue duffle down from the top shelf, then turn back to him. "Absolutely. I just think I'm more mad it ever started in the first place."