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I raked a hand through my messy locks, sizing up the blue eyed fool that was reflected back at me. The jerk. That was me, right? Delia hadn’t even said ‘I told you so’ when I let her know I was taking some time off. I’d even shared that I ruined things with Natalee. Delia had just given me a tiny nod and told me she’d be available if I needed her.
She probably knew it was just a matter of time before I screwed things up. And one of the other people that knew me, my best friend who still hadn’t spoken to me since the reception? Scott was clearly not losing a minute of sleep over me, our friendship, or my disaster of a life.
And could I blame him?
Plenty of people bumped heads with their friend’s significant others, but I was the only genius who thought it was a good idea to take my beef public. And at their wedding, no less.
I wrenched my eyes from the glass and dropped them to the counter, my knuckles pressing into the granite like I was debating whether I should punch something or just sink into the depths of this hell. The saddest part was, I couldn’t pawn it off on anyone else. The Cassidy Lie—even though it was bullshit, could I blame anyone, Natalee included, for taking the word of the gossip rags over me? With all the bad things I’d done, what did it mater that I didn’t do this bad thing?
Karma was vicious, and all the things I’d done were catching up to me...and it would be cowardice to chalk this all up to Cassidy or whoever was behind this fake news bullshit. I could have sued everyone involved in the lie, from Cassidy down to the grubby photographers that were falling all over themselves to take a pic that would pad their bank account, but would that change the fact that I was here? Alone? Without an ally to my name because I’d opted to keep everyone at a distance?
I pushed away from the counter, ignoring a renewed flurry of beeps. Whoever was down there was damn persistent, but they’d have to wait for my reemergence like all the other paps stationed around the building.
I continued my journey to the living room, or what should have been a living room, but there was just a couch and a TV affixed to the wall.
I dropped onto the couch, cringing to myself when I finally put my finger on what this place was if it wasn’t a home.
It was a waiting room.
Waiting to die.
And with my luck, I’d be doing that alone, too.
Here lies Jason Cox—he was really good at pretending like he didn’t need anyone, and has finally gotten his wish.
I flipped on the TV, then automatically flipped it off when I was greeted with a blurb on the home screen that read, ‘The Billionaire and The Baker’.
I faded into the cushion, squeezing my eyes shut, wishing I could sleep but unable to shut my brain off. Unable to shut out that look on Natalee’s face. It was a look I’d seen before, and at my hand. Disappointment. The light snuffed out and replaced by something that kept me from blowing up her phone any further.
A look that said she was angry. Angry at me. That weight I could handle, but what I couldn’t take was that she was angry at herself, too. Blamed herself for giving me the second chance I’d fought for.
The second chance I didn’t deserve.
I nearly crushed my remote when the buzzer went off again, this time, not letting up because the asshole downstairs decided to outdo himself and was holding the button. Forcing me to at least stomp over to the control panel and acknowledge their existence—or call security.
“You’ve got some big ones, man,” I muttered to myself, deciding to not go with my gut and call security to physically remove the trespasser from the premises.
I peered at the screen, curious about how creative this schmuck was.
My profanity filled dismissal that I had locked and loaded froze in my throat.
I saw a bespectacled and familiar face, red with annoyance because the one thing that drove him absolutely crazy was having to wait.
I was smiling like a fool, but I couldn’t help myself. ‘Pissed’ had been Scott’s default mode when I was in his general vicinity since the wedding, if he wasn’t avoiding me altogether, so the snarl on his lips was business as usual.
“Can I help you?” I said smoothly. “I’m currently on a leave of absence. Board’s orders.”
Scott looked directly at me, his dark eyes scoring me to the bone. “Yeah, you can help me. Buzz me up before I regret this olive branch, asshole.”
~
The scowl I was confronted with should have told me that now wasn’t the time for jokes. Despite the fact that it was really good to see my friend in the flesh instead of behind a memo or communicating through Mrs. Larson, grinning from ear to ear was probably unwise. I couldn’t help myself. Especially considering the fact that the arrival of Pissed Off Scott brought back all kinds of memories.
Scott was the goofy, annoyingly optimistic one of us, so it was worth taking notice when he had anything on his face other than a smile. One of the notable instances was after he had a run in with Dr. McGregor.
Scott had joined the professor’s legendary shit list when the ornery man learned he was buddies with me. I’d only lasted two lectures in his Business 101 class, foiling his attempts at punishing me when he caught me chatting with my sexy neighbor during his lecture.
I had the audacity to answer his ‘Gotcha!’ question correctly.
