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GAVIN
Iwoke with clarity. We’d gone about this all wrong. I’d gone about this all wrong. I should have come clean to Whitley from the start about how I felt about her. Instead, I was so worried that she’d back out at the first sign of my affection. After all, it wasn’t unprecedented. I’d watched her do it to others over the years. I’d seen the relationships implode, and I’d crossed my fingers and hoped it wouldn’t happen to me.
Well, it had.
Now, what was I going to do?
Yesterday, I’d wallowed. I’d had every right to do so. The wedding was off. But I couldn’t stay in that feeling forever. At some point, I was going to have to act.
As much of this was my fault as Whitley’s. I’d asked her to be my fake girlfriend. I cajoled her into going to the wedding. I introduced her to my friends and family. I even convinced her that this would be the right step for her dad. I never stopped to think about the potential consequences. I’d been too far gone.
Consequences had happened anyway.
I rolled out of Maggie’s guest bed, still dressed in my wrinkled shirt from the day before. I didn’t want to go back to my apartment. I couldn’t face the space where my wife was supposed to be sprawled across my bed.
Instead, I crept out of the bedroom to an empty apartment. Maggie had left a thermos of coffee on the kitchen island with a note, telling me to help myself.
“Bless you, Mags,” I groaned as I poured myself a mug.
Splashing interrupted my drink.
Locke was home.
I yawned and headed toward the enormous pool at the other end of the house. I opened the glass door to find him swimming laps at such an incredible speed that I could barely track him in the pool. After a few minutes, he lifted his head from the water and looked up at me in surprise.
“Hey, you’re finally up,” Locke said. He hoisted himself out of the water and threw a towel haphazardly across his body. He was fucking rock solid.
Maybe I should take up swimming.
“I’m up.”
“Sorry to hear about what happened. Any way I can help?”
“Actually, I was wondering if I could borrow some clothes.”
Locke nodded. “Sure. Help yourself. Room is at the end of the hall. Take whatever you need.”
“Thanks, man.” I started toward the door but stopped. “Sorry about … your marriage too.”
Locke’s eyes hardened. “We don’t all get what we want.”
“No,” I agreed slowly. “I guess not.”
“But good luck.”
Then, he dived back into the pool, continuing his morning workout.
I left the pool behind and wandered into Locke’s bedroom. We weren’t exactly the same shape. He had broad shoulders and a trimmer waist, but we were about the same height. So, I found a pair of slacks and a button-up that didn’t smell like the inside of a bar, and after changing, I headed out of my cousin’s apartment.
I called English on the way downstairs.
“I don’t feel comfortable giving you that information, Gavin,” she said diplomatically.
“English, I don’t have time for this. Whit isn’t your client. You’re not breaching confidentiality. Take your publicist hat off for a goddamn minute and think about your best friend.”
“I am thinking about my best friend. She doesn’t want to see you.”
“I’m not going there to see her, So, give me the goddamn name.”
