Chapter Eighteen #2
“What? I thought that was set for Sunday.”
“There was a change of plans.” Bailey wiggled into the panties, wincing, then grabbed a pair of shorts. “Can you meet me for breakfast?”
“Yeah, sure. Where?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere I don’t have to get dressed up.”
“The diner,” Chloe decided. “Twenty minutes?”
“I can make that.” Bailey set the phone down to drag on a sports bra, pulled Nash’s T-shirt back on, then picked up the phone again. “Will you tell Gwen?”
“This early?”
Bailey winced. “I know, I’m sorry.”
“You owe me.”
“I’ll buy breakfast.”
“You’ll still owe me,” Chloe muttered.
“Twenty minutes,” Bailey said and clicked off. She snagged a pair of sandals, scraped her hair back into a ponytail, and crept to the top of the stairs on her toes.
The sound of water running made her curse.
He was up, but she couldn’t tell if he was in the kitchen or the bathroom.
She bit her lip, straining to hear. The water cut off, then came the clatter and thump of porcelain that could only be the toilet lid going up.
He was in the bathroom, and that gave her a short window for escape.
She went down the stairs as fast as she dared, speeding up when she heard the unmistakable sound of a stream of piss hitting the bowl, and bolted for the front door. She looked for her purse, losing precious moments to panic before she remembered throwing it in Nash’s room last night.
She ran across the living room and through his open bedroom door. He’d stopped peeing and was washing his hands, whistling over the sounds of the running water. Her purse sat on his dresser—her keys too, he must have picked them up—and she snagged both and ran back to the front door.
She had the lock undone before the water cut off, and ran like a gazelle for her car.
She’d driven two blocks when the text came in, but she waited until she was sitting down at the diner, a cup of coffee in front of her, to answer Nash’s Where are you?
Meeting Chloe and Gwen for breakfast, she replied, hoping it came off like that was always the plan and she hadn’t run away like a coward. Bring you back a cinnamon roll.
Then she put her phone on silent and picked up her coffee.
She was just starting on her second cup when Chloe came in wearing a summer dress and a short jean jacket.
Shuffling along behind her, Gwen was in pajama pants and a sweatshirt, her hair piled sloppily on her head and her eyes both sleepy and annoyed behind her glasses.
They slid into the booth, and Bailey immediately put her coffee cup in front of Gwen.
“Smart,” Chloe said approvingly and signaled the waitress.
Gwen gulped coffee and said nothing.
“Thanks for meeting me,” Bailey said.
“I’d say no problem, but—” Chloe cut her eyes to Gwen, steadily and sullenly drinking coffee.
“I know. Sorry.”
The server appeared, and Chloe gave her a bright smile. “We’re going to need a lot of coffee.”
“And cinnamon rolls,” Gwen muttered.
“And maybe a couple of cinnamon rolls for the table? Thank you so much.” Chloe waited until the server had moved on, then looked at Bailey. “Okay, what’s wrong?”
Bailey toyed with the little paper wrapper on her silverware. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”
“Because you made me drag Gwen out of bed to meet you at—” She paused to check the time on her phone. “Seven-twenty-three in the morning, on a weekday when you’re supposed to be at the salon, and you slept with Nash. This is not rocket science.”
Gwen lowered her cup to the table with a snap. “You slept with Nash?”
“The group project got moved up,” Chloe supplied and waved a hand at Bailey. “So? What gives?”
Bailey kept her eyes on the paper wrapper, concentrating on rolling it as tightly as she could. “Nash still loves me. Or loves me again. I’m not sure which.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me. Last night, when T was fucking my mouth and Ava was eating me out.”
There was another moment of silence, then Gwen said, “Let me get this straight. He told you he loves you while you were fucking two other people?”
Bailey glanced up. “Yeah.”
“Just checking,” Gwen said and picked up her coffee again.
Bailey waited a beat, glancing between Chloe and Gwen, but nobody said anything else. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
Chloe scratched her chin. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
“Nash said he loves me,” Bailey repeated.
“About time,” Gwen muttered.
Bailey blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“She said, about ti—”
Bailey shot up a hand. “I heard what she said. I just don’t know what it means.”
Chloe glanced at Gwen, got a shrug in return, then looked back at Bailey. “It means we kind of knew.”
“How?”
“Uh, we have eyes?” Gwen offered.
“And Nash told me,” Chloe added.
Bailey just gaped at her best friend for a full five seconds. When she finally found her voice, it was to croak out, “When?”
“When he came into the pub to get Sawyer’s number. That was what, a week ago?” she asked Gwen.
“Something like that,” Gwen agreed. “We’re getting more coffee, right?”
“And you didn’t think to mention this to me?” Bailey asked, outraged.
Chloe shrugged. “No.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because it’s not really any of my business.”
“Well, it’s my business,” Bailey began hotly.
“No, it’s not,” Gwen interrupted.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s not your business, not unless he tells you. Which he did, so now it is. Your business.” Gwen craned her neck, trying to see around Chloe. “Do you see our server?”
“Will you forget about the fucking coffee?” Bailey practically yelled.
“Why are you so mad about this?” Chloe wondered.
“Because I’m in love with him, too, dammit!” Bailey shouted, then clapped her hands over her mouth in horror.
Gwen shot Chloe a smirk. “You owe me another twenty.”
Bailey dropped her head to the table. “Oh, God.”
“Uh, is everything okay here?” Bailey heard the server ask.
“Fine,” Chloe said with grating cheer. “She just realized she’s still in love with her ex.”
“Oh.”
“Thank you so much for the coffee. Bailey, do you want some?”
Bailey kept her head down. “No.”
“Gimme hers,” Gwen demanded.
“How about a cinnamon roll?” Chloe asked.
Bailey lifted her head, grabbed the roll off the plate Chloe held, and stuffed it whole in her mouth.
“I see we’re at the eating our feelings stage,” Gwen observed, two-fisting coffee cups.
“Uck oo,” Bailey mumbled.
Chloe, adding creamer to her coffee, paused to frown. “What?”
“She said ‘fuck you’,” Gwen said helpfully.
Bailey pointed at Gwen and nodded.
Chloe went back to doctoring her coffee. “Was it bad?”
Bailey, still chewing the cinnamon roll, turned up her hands and lowered her eyebrows in question.
“The group project,” Chloe elaborated. “Was it bad?”
Bailey shook her head.
“So, it was good.”
Bailey nodded vigorously.
“Maybe you should hold off on questions until she’s swallowed her feelings—I mean, the cinnamon roll.”
Bailey shot up a middle finger, and Gwen grinned.
Bailey chewed, chewed, chewed, and finally swallowed, wincing a little because she probably should’ve chewed a little more, then said, “No, it wasn’t bad. It was good. Really, really good. That’s the problem.”
“Why is that a problem?” Chloe asked.
“I have a theory,” Gwen put in, switching to her other cup of coffee.
“I told you to shut up.”
“No, you told me fuck you,” Gwen reminded her.
“The shut up was implied.”
Gwen smiled serenely. “It really wasn’t.”
“What’s your theory?” Chloe cut in.
Ignoring Bailey’s glower, Gwen turned to Chloe. “It’s a problem because what made it good was Nash.”
“Five orgasms is what made it good,” Bailey retorted.
“What do you mean?” Chloe asked Gwen.
“Well, not many guys would be comfortable with the woman they love fucking a bunch of other people.”
“True,” Chloe acknowledged.
“Nash not only allowed it—”
“He doesn’t ‘allow’ anything,” Bailey said heatedly.
“He facilitated it,” Gwen continued, undaunted. “And my guess is he enjoyed it as much as she did. He enjoyed it because she did.”
Bailey wanted to sneer, but the epiphany she was having distracted her.
“Which makes him pretty much perfect for our girl here,” Gwen said, gesturing with her cup. “And that scares the ever-loving shit out of her.”
Shaking free of the epiphany, Bailey slapped her hands down on the table, making the silverware jump. “Of course, I’m scared! Have we forgotten he broke my fucking heart?”
“No, we haven’t forgotten,” Chloe said quietly.
“I barely got through it the first time. If it happened again…” Bailey shook her head. “I don’t think I’d survive.”
“You would,” Gwen said with a certainty that made Bailey frown. “But that’s not really the point, is it?”
“It’s not?” Chloe asked.
Gwen shook her head, her eyes square on Bailey’s. “Every romantic choice you’ve made since then has been with one goal in mind—don’t fall in love, don’t risk another broken heart.”
Bailey had no choice but to go on the defensive. “Can you blame me?”
“No,” Chloe said. “That breakup was brutal. You did what you had to do to get through it.”
“But now, here you are, in love again despite all your best efforts. Maybe you’ve been in love with him the whole time. And you have to decide if you’re going to risk it all again.” Gwen picked up her coffee, took a sip. “So what are you going to do?”
Bailey just stared at her for a moment, then let her head fall to the table.
“Miss?” Chloe called. “We’re going to need more cinnamon rolls.
* * * *
Bailey drove home with the air conditioning blasting in her face.
She hoped it would help with the nausea, but so far it wasn’t doing much.
She was so anxious she felt like she could throw up, but that could have been the cinnamon rolls.
The fourth one had probably been a mistake, and the box of them sitting on the passenger seat, filling the car with the scent of butter and sugar and cinnamony goodness, wasn’t helping.