by Hart, Cary
“What would you like to do on this couch?” I dare him to say more.
“I could think of a few things.”
“As in?”
“Getting lucky?” He waggles his brows.
“Hmm…” I tap my chin. “How about we settle—for a kiss?”
“Sounds perfect.” Owen wraps a hand around the back of my head and pulls me in for a kiss just as his phone begins to vibrate.
“I swear to God, if this is Austin…” He swipes his phone to life and just stares at it.
“Owen? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Your friend just quit.” He tosses the phone on the seat next to him.
“Mal? Why?” I reach for my phone to see if she’s okay.
“Something about paperwork and I’m an asshole.” He hands me his phone. “Want to put these up?”
A part of me wants to call Mal to see how’s she doing. But given the previous middle finger text and her messaging Owen, I’m going to assume she’s mad right now.
“Yeah. If we don’t,” I reach over and grab his hand, “we’ll never get past this.”
“Silence those bitches.” Owen winks.
“Done and done.” I lean in. “Where were we?”
AUSTIN
“Intruder! Balk! Balk! Intruder!” Kramer squawks as he struts in my room. He’s been doing this since the moment Clover walked out that door trying to get me out of bed.
The little shit may have fooled me once, maybe even twice, but the fifth—or maybe it’s the sixth?—not happening, buddy.
“Intruder! Balk! Balk! Intruder!” He bounces over to my bed and uses his little beak to climb up the sheets until he’s sitting on my chest.
“Why?” I throw my hands up. “Why must you do this?”
“Intruder! Balk! Balk! Intruder!”
“Kramer, come here.” I pat the pillow next to me, and he wobbles over to it.
I roll over and face him.
“Buddy, we need to talk.”
Kramer falls to the pillow, mimicking me. I can’t help but smile. This bird has hit every single nerve since he’s been delivered, just like his mom, but having him here has been kind of nice.
“We have to talk about your mama.” I reach over and pet his little Mohawk. “I know this is going to be hard to hear—”
Wait—is Kramer even breathing? I lay still, trying to see if I can see his chest rise and fall.
Nothing.
“Oh shit!” I raise up on my elbow. “Kramer?” I poke his little head. “You alive?”
His eyes fly open. “Booooo. Boo. Boo-boo-boo. Booooo,” he squawks.
“Dammit.” I roll to my back, my hands resting on my chest, trying to catch my breath. “That wasn’t funny.” I turn my head to look at the little asshole. “You scared the fuck out of me.”
I swear the bastard smiles. Can a bird even do that?
“As I was saying…” I raise my brow, daring the little shit to interrupt me again. “I don’t think this is going to work. Your mom and I.” I pause, trying to find the right words. “She likes another—”
What in the hell am I doing? Am I seriously going to have the whole break up talk with Kramer? Clover and I aren’t even together.
But you wish you were.
“Mwah—moo-wah—smmmmmck.” Kramer hops up. “Kiss me. Kiss, kiss, kiss me. Kiss, kiss me. Kiss, kiss, kiss me.” Kramer climbs his way on top of my head and looks at me upside down. Or maybe I’m upside down. Either way, we are face-to-face and my little buddy is repeating what he heard when Clover and I shared our tender moment.
Tender fucking moment.
Jeez, I’ve turned into a pussy. That’s what she’s doing to me. Long, lonely, sexless nights.
“I’m not kissing you, buddy.” I reach up and pat his little head.
Kramer’s head shoots up. “Intruder! Balk! Balk! Intruder!” he warns as he lifts his wings and flutters his way to the ground.
“I heard it too.” I throw my legs over the side of the bed and follow Kramer to the front room.
“Rrrr-rrrrruff. Rrrrrruff. Rrrr-rrrrruff,” Kramer barks, pecking at the door.
“Huh?” I stand there in amazement. Clover always said he could bark, but I’ve never witnessed it.
“Austin!” Mal hollers from the other side as she beats on the door. “I know you’re in there.” She pounds harder.
“Rrrr-rrrrruff. Rrrrrruff. Rrrr-rrrrruff,” Kramer echoes.
“Calm down, Fido. It’s just Mal.” I open the door, Kramer flies to his cage, and Mal pushes her way in.
“Where have you been?” She passes by me and heads straight to the kitchen, opening and closing cabinet doors.
“I was in bed.” I close the door.
“Seriously?” Mal peeks her head around the corner. “Are you sick?”
“Um…yes?” I stick with the lie, just in case she talks to Clover later.
“You don’t look sick.” She narrows her eyes. “Want a drink?”
“I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.” She ducks back in to grab her glass and comes casually strolling out, downing a glass of amber liquid.
“Shit, Mal.” I nod toward her glass. “That bad, huh?”
Mal shrugs. “I quit.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I throw up my hands. “I fought like hell to get you that gig.”
“Well, Owen is an asshat.” She tips the glass to her lips and takes a long pull, wincing as she drains every last drop.
“No arguments there.”
Mal’s eyes go wide before they quickly narrow. “Really? You aren’t going to defend him?”
“Not today.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” I lean back into the cushions and prop my feet onto the coffee table.
“Well, I don’t think I’ll ever like him—ever.” She turns toward me and tucks her leg underneath her on the sofa.
I clasp her knee. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Fine.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I love this job, Austin. Like I really, really love it, but Owen keeps giving me these shit projects that keep me so busy, I barely have time to leave my office.”
“Owen isn’t my favorite person right now, but…”
“No buts, Austin. He had me sorting papers for no reason.”
“I’m sure there was a reason. He wouldn’t just give you—”
I try to finish another sentence, but when Mal gets going, there’s no stopping her.
“Yes. He. Would,” she spits out. “And he did. I had a question, and I didn’t want to bother Owen on his date.” Mal shoots me a look. “Which is a whole other convo.” She purses her lips. “Anyway, I called Elizabeth, and she informed me the papers I was sorting were converted into an electronic filing system—Two. Years. Ago.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
Mal stretches forward and sets her glass on the table. “Tell me about it.” She falls back on an exhale. “That’s why I quit.”
“Mal, I’m not going to let you quit.” I reach over and squeeze her knee. “There is no one better for this job than you.”
“I know, but I can’t—”
“Take a few days off, and when you’re ready, come back. I’ll talk to Owen.”
Mal lets out a sigh. “I honestly don’t have a choice. I left my styling job for this.”
“It will all work out,” I promise her.
I hate that Owen has her this worked up. Honestly, since this Unlucky in Love shit started, he’s been extremely moody and totally unpredictable. Like, where did this whole #cloven thing come from anyway? He’s never talked about her before, so why now?
“Speaking of working out…” She leans over and pokes me in the side. “How are things with Clover?”
Not good.
I moan and let my head fall back.
“That bad?”
I can either keep lying to myself and pretend nothing happened, or I can confess my sins so
everything can go back to the way it was.
Rolling my head to the side, I look at my sister, who is also one of Clover’s best friends, and admit the truth. “I kissed her.”
“I knew it.” She jumps up. “Wait? Why didn’t she tell me?” She points to me. “You! You told her not to, didn’t you?”
“Sit down.” I reach up, grab onto the hem of her shirt, and tug. “Stop being dramatic.”
“I’m not, but keeping something like this from your sister is not acceptable,” she scolds.
“She doesn’t remember,” I whisper.
“What do you mean?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Never mind that.” She waves me off. “Was she drinking? I bet she was. You know what they say about things people confess when they’ve been drinking—it’s things they are thinking but are too afraid to say when they are sober.”
“It wasn’t like that.” I stand and cross the room, sitting in the chair across from Mal.
“Stop running from the truth.” Mal crosses her arms.
“What are you talking about? I just crossed the room.”
“Clover is into you. She always has been.” A huge smile breaks across her face.
“She told you that?”
“Well, no, but…”
“Just stop.” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. “Clover was worried she wasn’t kissable.”
“That’s stupid,” Mal cuts in.
“I know…Mal, she begged me to kiss her, and I tried to convince her it was a bad idea, but she kept pressing and pressing.”
“You gave in.”
“I did.”
“Now what?” She asks the question I’ve been thinking about since then.
I stand and run a hand through my hair, my nerves on high alert. The truth is on the tip of my tongue waiting to be freed. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“Hmm…”
“That’s all you have to say?” I walk over to where she’s sitting. “What kind of response is that?” I plop down next to my sister. “You’ve read like a million self-help books and this is the best you’ve got?” I lie down. “I need you to self-help me,” I plead. “I’m going crazy here.”
“I haven’t read that many.” She pats my leg. “However, it’s called self-help for a reason.”
The truth is exhausting, and now she wants me to figure this shit out on my own?
“What the hell, Mal? I’m a guy. Spell it out, draw me a picture, translate that shit. I have no clue what language you’re speaking over there.”
“Fine.” She stands and walks down the hall.
“Where’re you going?” I lean my head back, trying to see what she’s up to.
“You ready for this?” Mal comes in with Clover’s huge ass binder.
“Clover is going to kick your ass if she finds out you have that.” I nod toward the book.
“Well, she’s a little busy right now, isn’t she?” Mal’s smile fades.
“Don’t remind me.” I sit up as she sits down. “What is this, story time with Mallory Montgomery?” I try to joke, but it falls flat.
“Something like that.” She flips it open to the first page. “Clover created this binder in middle school. It was her fail-proof plan to find her very own Prince Charming.”
“Look how well that turned out.” I roll my eyes.
“Or did it?” She continues to flip through the pages. “Austin, this binder is filled with memories of you and Clover.”
“What? Why?” My face twists in confusion. “Let me see.”
Mal hands over the book.
Flipping through the pages is like thumbing through an old photo album—dances, ball games, bad hair, good music. Photo after photo of the best times of my life, Clover was always there, and if her book, her perfect future, was built around a past with me, that has to mean something. Could I be a part of her future?
“Clover was never going to find her happily ever after because it was always supposed to be with you.” Mal points to the binder. “It’s all in there.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You idiot.” Mal flicks my arm.
“Ow.” I flinch. “What did you do that for?”
“Do I have to spell it out for you? Clover loves you, and after that kiss, I’m supposing you finally figured out you feel the same way.”
I shake my head. “Mal, this isn’t some fairy tale.”
“Sure it is.” She reaches for the binder.
“She’s with Owen,” I point out the obvious.
“Because you never gave her reason not to be.” She stands. “I better put this up.” Mal takes off for Clover’s room, leaving me more confused than I was before she came over.
“Mal!” I holler.
“What?” She comes strolling out with a satisfied smirk on her face.
“What are you still doing here?” Mal points to the door. “Go.”
“Go where?” I throw my hands up in the air. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do?”
Mal lets out an exasperated sigh. “Austin, go be the knight in shining armor and rescue your princess.”
The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. I can’t let her not be a part of my future. Our lives are too intertwined, and I’m not ever letting her go.
“Okay. Okay.” I nod. “I’ve got this.” I jump up and run to my bedroom.
“Make sure you brush your teeth!” Mal hollers out. “Every happy ever after is sealed with a kiss.”
“Good call!”
I can’t believe I’m doing this. Clover Kelly is the girl who walked into my life all those years ago, and now, I’m running back into hers.
Sliding on my shoes, I rush back into the family room and grab my keys.
“Good luck!” Mal waves. “I’ll lock up.”
“Mal?” I stand there with one hand on the knob, a lump forming in my throat. “What if she doesn’t want to be saved?”
“Austin, it’s her fairy tale, of course, she wants to be saved.”
Let’s hope she’s right.
CHAPTER 27
CLOVER
We’ve been sitting here for the last twenty minutes trying to figure out what to watch. If this were Austin, we would have agreed by now. If not, he would have let me win. It’s just how we work.
Why am I even thinking about him?
I’ve texted Austin a few times to see how he’s feeling, but he hasn’t responded. Maybe he’s still sleeping? Or maybe he thinks I’ve abandoned him when he needed me the most? Is he mad? Upset? Or maybe he’s praying to the porcelain god?
“Looks like a Julia Roberts marathon is on,” Owen interrupts my wandering thoughts.
“Sounds great. Which one’s next?”
“My Best Friend’s Wedding is almost over. Then,” he flips through the guide, “looks like Runaway Bride.”
“Sounds great.” I smile.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
It’s like the universe is trying to tell me something. I hate My Best Friend’s Wedding. It’s actually funny because Austin got so tired of me complaining, he finally created me a “do not watch” list—at the top of it? This movie.
Who wants to spend ninety minutes totally invested in a movie, where—spoiler alert—they don’t end up together? That’s not how fairy tales work.
Lucky for me, it’s almost over. I’m willing to bet CJ’s whole cleaning house thing is code for vegging out in front of the TV binging Julia’s greatest flicks.
“Want some more popcorn?” Owen stands and stretches, causing his shirt to rise up a little. I can’t help but stare. “Like what you see?” Owen stops mid-stretch, flashing me a teasing smile. “Because that’s just the sample.” He winks.
I got caught red-handed with my hand in the cookie jar—or, in this case, the popcorn bowl.
“Sure it is.” My lips curl in a wicked smile as I grab a handful of what’s left of the popcorn and toss it his way.
“Hey now!” He nods to the mess
I made. “You’re going to clean that up.”
Knock! Knock!
We both freeze.
Owen’s eyes go wide and bounce between me and the door.
He throws his thumb up. “Are you expecting someone?”
I hold my hands up. “Hey, it’s not my place.”
“Hmm?” Owen’s eyes narrow, and his lips twist. “Let’s see who it is, shall we?” He peers through the peephole.
“Shit.” Owen sighs, letting his head fall.
“Who is it?”
Owen doesn’t say a word. He just opens and steps out of the way as Austin comes barging in.
“Clover, we need to talk.”
“You know what?” Owen nods, as if he’s trying to convince himself. “You guys talk. Um…I’m going to run downstairs and deal with a little matter.”
“Owen, wait!” I call after him, but it’s too late. He was halfway out the door the moment Austin stepped through.
“Great!” I throw my hands up. “First Nick, and now Owen.” I begin to gather my things.
“Clover.” Austin tries to get my attention, but I’m too pissed.
“Don’t Clover me. You aren’t even supposed to be here.” I walk over and stand in front of him. “You!” I poke at his chest. “Are supposed to be in bed—sick.”
“I faked it,” Austin blurts out.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“I can’t even believe this right now.” I shake my fists. “Why? Why would you do that?”
Austin doesn’t move. He stands there, his hands in his pockets, and takes everything I throw his way.
“What? A cat got your tongue?” I seethe.
I can’t even begin to explain the betrayal I’m feeling right now. Austin took advantage of me, of our friendship. What kind of person does that?
“I was jealous,” he admits.
“No.” I shake my head back and forth, not wanting to believe this. I can’t believe this.
“It’s true.” His hand encircles mine.
I jerk my hand away. “Don’t.”
“Jesus, Clover.” Austin tugs at his hair. “I thought I was losing you.”
I lift my head to the ceiling and let out a frustrated groan. “What does that even mean?”
Austin shrugs. “God, I wish I knew.”
My head flies forward. “No.” The tears begin to well up in my eyes. My vision becomes blurry. “You don’t get to involve yourself in my dating life, fake sick, and then barge in here and not know.”