You need to try harder, Thaddeus. Making friends is never easy.
Yeah, but getting fucked was easy. I never had any trouble with that part. Finding someone who wanted more than that was the tricky part. Ryder sprang to mind, and I almost laughed. Yeah, right. Like that was ever going to be on the cards.
I’ll tell you soon. I promise. Just not yet. And my company is fine. Phillip can manage a few days without me. I’m giving him what he needs. I’m not indispensable.
It was all lies, but JB bought it, kind of.
Fine. But you are one motherfucking pain in my arse, just so you know.
I grinned to myself.
I love you too. And thanks.
Next, I texted my mother with another lie.
Just checking in. I’m fine. Lying by the beach. Please don’t call my friends. I’ll be home in a few days.
Lastly, I turned my attention to the barrage of texts from Judd.
Where’s my red coat?
I want my contribution to next month’s mortgage back.
You do realise I own half our lounge suite. You’ll have to sell it or reimburse me.
I’m taking the tickets for Ed Sheeran. You never really liked him, anyway.
And the Nespresso machine and milk frother. I use it more than you.
ButIdamn well bought it.
As a litany of what Judd wanted, what he’d taken, and what I needed to do was poured out in texts, I couldn’t even find the energy to get angry. There was nothing about whathe’ddone. His transgressions. Or about how I might feel. No apologyeither. The weirdest thing was how inclined I was to not give a shit about any of it.
A part of me wondered why he’d even bothered to text. Had he wanted an excuse to legitimately get in touch? Surely not.
The last text he sent was the zinger.
And I’m going to Melbourne on that holiday we booked for next month, so don’t you dare cancel anything. It was my idea, and I booked it. You owe me that much for the last few years we’ve been together. Besides, you’d never have gone without me. You don’t go anywhere. Maybe you should think about that when you’re hating me for what I did. Think about why I did it. You don’t live, Thad. Some of us need to.
Oh, hell no.My thumbs began to fly over the keyboard, but then I stopped and pressed Record to send a voice message instead. “Fuck you, Judd. I paid for that entire holiday, and I don’t owe you a single fucking thing except my eternal regret for ever having thought you were a man worthy of my attention and respect. You can have the damn air ticket, but I’m fucked if I’m paying for anything else. Book your own damn accommodation. I’m cancelling that part right now.” I threw the phone on the sofa and almost immediately picked it up again.
And that Nespresso machine better be there when I get back, or I’ll take it out of your mortgage money before I return the rest. Maybe you used it more, but just for the record, you always made crap coffee. I was just too nice to tell you.
I pressed Send and ditched the phone again, startling Ziggy from his sleep. He looked up at me, a crosshatch of creases marking his brow. “Fucking men,” I grumbled, smoothing his frown lines with my fingers. “Give me a decent video game any day of the week. At leasttheydon’t fuck your best friend.”
You don’t live, Thad. Some of us need to.
I hated how his words were burrowing under my skin and making my conscience itch.
It wasn’t true . . . was it?
I lived. Idid. Just because I didn’t want to go out partying every weekend or spend two hours on a Sunday listening to his brunch gang’s inane conversation didn’t mean I didn’t live, although I wasn’t sure my mother would agree with that.
Ziggy gave up staring and snuggled down. I watched his breathing slow into sleep, then opened my laptop. I’d received a few work-related texts from Phillip, but not as many as I’d expected. Nearly all our correspondence was by email, as I’d asked. That was something, I supposed.
But as for anything personal, be it an apology or any mention of our friendship, there was zip. I tried not to let the hurt of that cut too deeply. I’d been pretty clear on where I stood, so what did I expect? Twenty years of friendship hadn’t meant enough to Phillip to keep his dick in his pants, so I’d clearly carried the weight of that relationship anyway.
I worked my way through his emails, trying not to be too gleeful at the mounting frustration evident in their tone. I’d dropped him in the deep end and didn’t feel an ounce of pity. I’d given him enough to get through the three critical client meetings we had in the upcoming week, but not enough to make life easy for him. I needed the company to be profitable so that I could buy Phillip out.
