Chapter 8
Eight
A fter studying for days, I’m bleary eyed and can’t wait to be done with the semester.
I’ve just got to push through the weekend, then my exams next week, and I’ll be home free.
Sort of. I’m going to be slammed all summer between two part-time jobs and my internship.
I’m stoked about the latter, which is for a regional health magazine.
I miss Mick, but he’s right to steer clear and let me focus.
There is no focusing with Mr. Phenomenal around.
As I rotate my stiff neck, it cracks unapologetically.
I reposition my bed pillows, get comfortable, and open my hefty Communications Law textbook to review—again—the material aligned with my final.
“Hey, baby,” Mick’s voice croons in my ear.
I push the book off my lap, unhunching my tight shoulders. “Hi.”
“How goes the studying?”
I recline, stretching long, and nearly groan with the release. “It’s buckets of fun, are you kidding? ”
He snorts.
“And I miss you.”
When he pauses, my sixth sense jumps into alert mode. “What’s wrong?”
Mick lets out an audible breath. “Remy’s home.”
I lurch upright, my heart banging in my chest like a caged bird as my legs swing off the bed to the floor. “Where?”
“Piedmont.” His parent’s house.
“When can we see him?”
“I’m heading over there in the morning.”
The implication is clear. He’s going alone. We both know I’m not welcome at the Remington household. “You…talked to him?”
“Briefly—just long enough to make a plan to see him tomorrow and tell him I’m glad he’s alright.”
My head hangs, my forehead sinking against my hand. “This sucks.” For me, anyhow.
“I’m sorry, Jax. I know this hurts. I’ll suss things out, see what I can arrange. But don’t let it derail your studying.”
“Fat chance. It’s already blowing up my brain.”
“This is why I debated even telling you.”
My incredulous huff punctuates the silence. “That’s totally messed up, Mick.”
“You know I would never keep something of this magnitude from you. But can you hang on to your patience a little while longer…and not allow it to fuck up your finals?”
He’s right. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” I mutter.
“Good girl.”
My throat constricts and a few tears slide down my cheeks. “You’ll call me tomorrow?”
“As soon as possible. I promise.”
I sniffle. “Tell him I love him?”
“Of course.”
“And Mick?”
“Yeah? ”
“I love you.”
“I know, baby. I love you too.”
It’s the most interminable, insufferable twenty-two hours of my life. I try my damnedest to study, to ignore the anxiety swirling through me, to not watch the clock. But the longer it takes Mick to check in, the angrier I become, conjuring fantasies of hanging up on him.
When he finally calls, he sounds exhausted. Reticent.
“How is he?” I hold my breath.
“Healthy. And…happy.”
Well, that’s good. “So, what’s the deal?”
Mick doesn’t say anything for such a long time that dread gallops up my spine.
“What is it? Something’s wrong. Just tell me?—”
“Remy’s engaged.”
I snort at the absurdity of that statement. But Mick doesn’t utter a sound.
“Wait. Are you serious ?”
He sighs, and I picture him raking a hand through his hair. “Unfortunately, yeah, I am.”
“Bu…but,” I sputter. “How? When? Why?”
“He met her in rehab and…things progressed.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. This chick is a drug addict? Solid choice.” Not to mention, how the hell could he be in love with someone else...someone other than me?
“She works there,” he clarifies, “and apparently, they fell in love.”
It’s a knife stab to the heart, the gut, everywhere. Emotions bleed out from every wound. I stop pacing the living room floor and sag against the wall, slumping to the carpet.
“I don’t understand,” I rasp. “He was only there a couple of months. How does he come out engaged ? What about everything we shared?”
“I’m sorry, baby. He’s almost a different guy. He claimed he experienced a ‘spiritual awakening’ and now he’s got some…vision or mission or purpose. He never wants to drink or use drugs again. He’s in love. He’s…excited about life.” Mick seems to grapple with explaining what he witnessed.
“And his parents are on board with this engagement?”
“She’s from a good family. They’re thrilled, gave it their blessing. Thinks she’ll help him stay on track.”
“Did you meet her?” I whisper.
“No. She’s still working at the facility, but she’s moving here soon. They plan to get married in six months. They…already set the wedding date.”
The finality of it sinks further into my chest. RIP Remy and Jacqui.
“He asked you to be his best man.” My voice is flat, broken.
“Mm-hmm.” It’s almost like he doesn’t want to admit it.
We’re both silent.
“I’m sorry, Jax,” he finally says. “For what it’s worth, Remy is too.”
My sarcastic bark rings hollow. “What bullshit.”
Mick sighs. “I don’t know what to say. I can barely wrap my head around all this.”
“Whatever.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I spit. “Be hurt? Incensed? Blindsided? Bewildered?”
“Christ. You should feel whatever you need to. But don’t take this out on me.”
“You know, Mick, right now you aren’t exactly topping my list of concerns.
If that makes me a selfish bitch, then so be it.
You want to know how I feel? After months of waiting— worrying —Remy comes out of rehab without a care in the world and a new fiancée.
The two best pals are together again, while Jacqui, the whore, is cast aside as if she never mattered. ”
“That’s…” There’s a thud. Did he punch a wall? “Although some of that may be true,” he grits out, “you know damn well neither of us think of you that way. We fucking loved you. I still love you. Do not cheapen what we have with that dramatic bullshit.”
His words hit like a slap, but the roar in my ears deafens everything. They don’t penetrate. And nothing he says will change how much this burns.
“I have to go,” I manage.
“Goddamn it! Don’t fucking do this.”
But I do.
Through blinding tears, I replace the receiver. My breath sputters and stalls, and my thoughts rage, deluging me like a summer squall.
My roommates find me on the floor, curled against the wall, hiccuping after running out of tears. I never knew a body could stop manufacturing them, but at some point, the torrent stopped, leaving my skin raw, chapped, and tender to the touch after repeatedly squeegeeing my face with my fingers.
Jas and Kit pull me into their arms and hold me, but I’m an empty, limp ghost of myself. Then they ply me with leftover pizza and boxed wine as they force me to relive that phone call.
Mick must be so pissed at me. And worried.
My sullen inner child doesn’t care.
That’s false…I’m just not ready to deal with it yet.
My roommates are sympathetic, asking questions and treading carefully. I’m grateful they’re not probing too deep. My head hurts. My heart’s been through a meat grinder. The unknowns loom .
“No more sandwiches,” I finally say, unsure how I’m managing to joke. I will miss those Mick and Remy sandwiches.
Kit offers a half-hearted smile. “It was good while it lasted though, right?”
I bite back more tears and nod. It really was. “The realist in me always knew it wouldn’t last forever. But I sure never predicted it ending this way.”
Jas’s head bobs. “I’m shocked—and I’m a reporter. I pride myself on being impossible to surprise, but damn if I ever saw this coming…not from Remy.”
The words from the past come tumbling back. Words shared just before I’d moved.
I love you, Rem , I’d said.
I fucking adore you, he’d answered.
I believed it. Now, though…I can’t help wondering if Remy had been spewing poetic bullshit.
If anything he’d said was honest. How the fuck can he treat me like this?
Cast me aside without even a conversation?
It doesn’t make sense unless he never cared about me in the first place.
But that doesn’t ring true either. Damn it, I’m not feeling sorry for him.
I’ll walk on glass shards over a bed of fire before that happens.
“You and Mick are still good, right?” Jas asks.
My tear ducts reactivate. “I behaved like a total asshole.”
“He’ll understand,” Kit says.
Mick doesn’t answer his phone when I call him later that night. Not that I blame him. Much. Still on shaky ground, I opt to give him space and try again tomorrow.
The next day comes, and his phone remains unanswered.
Is he punishing me? I hardly remember a word I said now.
I’m numb and doing my best not to think about any of it.
But as the day progresses, my anxiety escalates, panicky flutters whispering, You’re losing him too .
And I can’t. He’s my fucking world. As much as I need to buck up and keep studying, I need to make things right with Mick more.
The afternoon light wanes. Time to stop waffling. Speeding to Half Moon Bay, I chain smoke while death-gripping the steering wheel.
I’m relieved when I spot his blue Mustang in the driveway, although my heart palpitations ramp up as I step from the car.
Mick stares at me through the big glass windows of the cottage. He’s too far away for me to decipher his expression, but winged things flap around my insides like coked-up bees.
When he makes no move my direction, I push open the door. Mick leans against the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest, gray eyes dark and stormy. His stance fills me with foreboding.
I drop my purse on the couch and approach, meeting his piercing gaze. “Hey,” I whisper.
He nods, the movement curt.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “The way I acted…was really shitty.”
He nods again.
Damn it. “Please, can we talk this through?”
“I don’t know. Can we? I’m not sure what there is to say.”
I’m on unsteady ground. “I don’t understand. I was upset, okay?”
He regards me cooly, eyes like steel. “Here’s the thing, Jacqui. I’ve been about as patient as a man can be—more than a man should have to be.”
“I—”
“Let me finish. You asked a while ago if I had regrets about this whole party of three. I was honest. Yes and no. And I’ve done my damnedest to make this work, to love you, and fucking share you when I really just want you all to my fucking self.”
Sweat trickles down my back as my pulse rapid fires.
“And then this shit goes down with Remy. Surprise, surprise…except it’s not.
Remy’s a fuckup, has been his entire, rich playboy-entitled life.
And a part of me wasn’t sorry in the slightest. What happened to him was a hundred percent his fault, on the heels of us trying to help him see reality for the past, what…
year? And the bonus? Having you all to myself. It’s been a fucking dream .”
Tears prick the back of my eyelids and my throat stings with his admission.
“And then you get angry with me about Remy’s shit? And shed a tear over Remy after all this ? How do you think that makes me feel? Am I your consolation prize? Second choice?”
“No—”
“Does all this,” he demands, gesturing between us, “mean nothing to you? Think about it for five fucking minutes. See my perspective. Not yours. Not Remy’s. Mine .” His hand bangs against his chest with his last word.
My body sags under an avalanche of guilt. Have I made him think he’s second best?
It hits me then. How he’s always believed he’s not good enough, that he’ll never be able to give me what I “deserve,” and worse—that he deserves nothing for himself, not even happiness.
I take a tentative step toward him. “Mick.” My voice cracks as I swipe away the tears cascading down my cheeks. “I love you more than anyone…ever…in my entire life.”
His arms don’t loosen across his chest.
I inch forward. “You are my world,” I continue, my voice breaking again. “My universe. You give me life, bring light to my dark corners, fill me with purpose and joy. You’re imprinted on my soul, own my heart, and you are the most beautiful man I’ve been lucky to know, inside and out.”
Mick’s eyes shine with a glossy layer, his throat working as he swallows.
“My life means nothing without you in it.” I’m close now.
More tears spill from my eyes. I pause, trying to speak past the thick emotion.
“I have treasured every single second with you from the first moment. I never meant to make you think you’re less than anyone or anything. Mick…you are my everything.”
His gaze softens, a tear sliding down his cheek, and he opens his arms.
I fall into them, gripping him tight as he pulls me into his grasp. We cling to each other as sorrow, regret, and love flow between us.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur, my words muffled by his shirt.
He kisses my forehead. “Me, too.”
“I don’t want to lose you, Mick.”
“You won’t,” he rasps.
“I love you.”
“I love you so fucking much.”
Our mouths meet in a raw, earnest kiss, our pain swirling with honesty, our hearts desperate to stay fused.