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“I’d hate to find out.” He winks.
I give him a smile and toss my phone in my purse. Bryson and I had a brief dating period. I wouldn’t even call it dating. We went out twice and that was before we worked together. He’s a sweet guy, but we just didn’t mesh. Thank God we’ve been able to remain friends. He’s our IT man and can work wonders on anything electronic. He’s excellent at his job.
“Have a good night.” He waves before walking to his truck, leaving the parking lot.
By the time I make it home I’ve already decided to get wine drunk and watch anything that doesn’t revolve around football or hopeless romance. Maybe a good horror film will do the trick.
I just need to take a moment. Redirect. Get my life back on track. Nothing should change now that he’s here.
Funny, even as I think the thought, deep down I already know. Everything has changed.
I was teetering towards the perfect level of wine drunk when there was a pounding on my door. Setting down my half empty glass, I stand from the couch and make my way across the chilly wood floors. I coo a few words to Nelson, my hedgehog that wiggles his little nose, then buries himself in the warm corner of his cage. Government name, Quilly Nelson, was close to drowning in a drainage ditch this summer and I just happen to pass by on my morning run. What kind of human would I be if I left him there suffering?
Now he’s spoiled rotten and listens to me rant and rave when I have the slightest inconvenience. I’ve deemed him my official support animal. Poor guy.
Another pound sounds through the cabin and I laugh because I can tell by the rhythm it’s Bekka.
I open the door with a wave of my hand to usher her in. She barrels through without a glance in my direction.
“I just thought I’d…” she trails off when she looks at the wine bottle and Scream playing on the tv. “Oh.” She spins around. “You saw him, huh?”
Am I that predictable?
I roll my eyes and collapse back down on the couch. “Is it that obvious?”
Bekka is the only soul I have verbally confessed my feelings to about Greyson. It’s embarrassing enough the way I apparently misread our relationship…...friendship….whatever it was. I would die of mortification if everyone knew how heartbroken I was when he couldn't have cared less. I mean why would he? I was a seventeen-year-old girl, and he was practically famous, heading out to start his NFL career. Which despite everything, I’m proud of. It’s not that I didn’t want him to chase that dream…I wasn’t naive. But the way he went about it what something I just didn’t know if I could forgive.
Her eyes widen and she perches on the arm of the couch, swiping a curly piece of black hair from her face. “What did he say?”
“Oh nothing. Just being his typical self. Cocky and overstepping,” I scoff.
“Did he address the ring?” She smirks.
“He did. Said congratulations then asked me to meet up with him later.” I throw my hands up. “Like we’re just best friends.”
“Yeah, that’s probably not a good idea considering he was rounding second base while Blaine was literally on the floor above you.”
I groan. “Bekka.”
She shrugs. “What? You’re the one that leaked that drama. I didn’t even ask.”
She’s right. I was panicking. I felt dirty, but simultaneously buzzing with a feeling I hadn’t felt in years, and I didn’t know what to do. When I saw Greyson the next day at the charity auction, after I got past the initial shock of what happened, I was fed up. Some angry words were exchanged and I even slapped him across the face. Hard.
I close my eyes and replay his words in my head. The ones that ignited a raging fire I couldn't contain.
Look me in the eye. Look me in the eye and tell me that when I had you in my arms you didn’t forget he even existed.
It wasn’t fair. I spent seven years trying to forget Greyson Roy and in a split second I forgot about Blaine McKnight. The man I’m supposed to be committing my life to.
I toss myself on my back and fling my elbow over my face. “I hate him, Bekka.”
I hear her snort. “No, you don’t.” I feel movement, then she’s pulling my arm from my face. “You love him. That’s what you hate.”
“I do not. I’m getting married,” I defend.
“You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, Tills.” She taps my nose. “With that said, I’m your best friend. So, if we’re pretending to hate Greyson Roy.” She picks up my wine glass and takes an audible gulp. “I’ll get my hate face on.”
“You do realize he’s my brother’s other favorite person besides you, right?” I cock a brow.
