But I don’t believe she’s just dropping in out of the blue without an ulterior motive.
“Can I help you pick something out?” I offer.
“Actually, no,” she replies as she approaches me, coming to stand on the opposite side of the counter. She clasps her hands, placing them on top of the glass case. “I actually came to find out why you so callously cut Aaron out of your life.”
My chin jerks inward, and I straighten on my stool.
Veronica murmurs from behind me, “Oh man… this is going to be good.”
I don’t bother whipping another glare her way. She’s already relinquished her title as my best friend.
Nora just appraises me, her spine straight and her stare imperious. A flush of anger that she’d dare to judge my feelings on this matter wells within me, but, just as quickly, I deflate like an old party balloon.
“I’m sorry,” I practically moan out the apology, slumping farther down on my stool. I press my forearms to the glass case, dip my forehead to rest there, and rock back and forth. “I don’t know what the hell I did or what I’m doing. I messed everything up.”
Veronica approaches, soothingly patting my shoulder. “There, there.”
I can almost envision her giving a shrug to Nora as if to say, “You brought this out of her. Now what do we do?”
“So fix it,” Nora suggests, but her tone is kind and understanding this time.
I lift my head, eyes wide. “But how? I cut him out of my life. I sent him on his way. I wasn’t strong enough to stick up for what we had, and he has to think I’m the most pathetic of losers.”
Nora rolls her eyes. “Please… you’re not giving Aaron enough credit. The man is crazy about you. Granted, you hurt him, but I’m sure he’ll forgive you for it. You just have to reach out.”
“Really?” I ask hopefully. Because the reason I am indeed depressed is I thought I’d ruined everything the other night. When I’d told him I couldn’t do it, he took me at face value and left without even fighting for me. In my mind, that meant he had moved on.
Nora presses her fingertips to the edge of the case, leaning toward me. “I’m in counselor mode now, okay?”
I nod, eagerly giving her my attention.
“You have insecurities and trust issues. We all do. No sense in denying it or being ashamed of it. It’s what makes us human.”
I nod again, waiting for that magic kernel of therapeutic advice.
And wait…
Tipping my head slightly, I say, “And…”
“And what?” she scoffs. “Get over it.”
“Get over it?” I repeat tentatively, as if testing the weight of this miracle suggestion on my tongue.
“Get over it,” she affirms. “You have an amazing man who has accepted you despite your hang-ups and history. He has worked patiently and diligently to make you see him for who he is. He’s taken a chance on you, trying something that is foreign to him, while going in full force despite how scared I’m sure he was. And if you can’t recognize and understand what an amazing gift that’s been handed to you, then you don’t deserve him. Back away and let another woman have her chance.”
I do not like the sound of that. Don’t like one damn thing she just said, even as I recognize the truth in every single word.
“Confront your fears, Clarke,” Nora suggests softly. “I promise you, the greatness that awaits on the other side of it is well worth any discomfort you have to face to get there.”
“Does he hate me for pushing him away?” I ask, my voice barely registering as I’m so afraid of the answer.
“I don’t think Aaron has the capacity to do anything but love you,” she replies with a smile.
And just like that, hope springs eternal. Nora’s words seemingly make the difference between my pathetic depression that had mired me down into inaction to a new resolution within myself to reach for something with Aaron I believe could be amazing.
Popping off the stool, I look back at Veronica. “I changed my mind. You’re my best friend again. Can you watch the store while I go to Aaron’s?”
“Sure,” she replies brightly, clearly never having accepted my demotion.
“Aaron’s not at his place,” Nora cuts in.
I spin to face her, an eager pep in my step. “Where is he?”
“Um…” She hesitates slightly before admitting, “Los Angeles.”
I frown. “What’s he doing there?”
“He and Tacker went. Boy’s trip.”
“Boy’s trip?” That doesn’t seem like something they’d do. “Why?”
“Um…”
“Nora, what are they doing in Los Angeles?”
Her gaze cuts over to Veronica, then back to me. She seems sheepish. “Don’t make me reveal it.”
I jolt at the realization they’re doing something I might not like. There can be no other way to account for her clear unease now that the subject matter has been brought up.
“Is it a secret?” I ask neutrally. “Did Aaron ask you not to tell me?”
“No,” she drawls, tipping her head to the side. “But he also had no clue I’d come see you, so it’s not like it would be something he would think to tell me to keep quiet. I just know… he probably wouldn’t want me to tell you.”
“Are they out there seeking women?” I ask, knowing it sounds ridiculous.
Nora actually gasps, slightly outraged. “Of course not.”
“Then outside of that, I wouldn’t be mad about any reason they went out there.”
“Oh, you might be,” she mutters.
“Nora,” I wail, stretching my arms out in supplication. “Tell me.”
I can see the warring struggle in her expression as she considers her loyalty to Aaron, which comes through his best friend and her husband, Tacker, to me… a woman she barely knows.
Ultimately, her loyalty stays with Aaron. Lifting her chin, she says, “It’s not my place. You’re just going to have to ask him yourself.”
I stare mutely, knowing nothing I say will make a difference. She takes my silence as the perfect opportunity to escape. Grabbing her purse, she slings it over her shoulder and exclaims, “I really do have to run. Good talk.”
I nod, lost in thought over what Aaron could actually be doing in Los Angeles. The bells tinkle as Nora opens the door and looks back. “Are you mad?”
“Yes,” I say truthfully. But not overly so. I just want the truth, but I get why she won’t tell me.
“When you’re over it, can we go out to lunch sometime?” she asks hesitantly.
“Of course,” I reply without any real thought, which proves I can’t be all that mad.
She beams a gorgeous smile.
Mine isn’t so big, but it is grateful. “Thanks for the advice, Nora. I needed it.”
She nods. “Aaron and Tacker are taking the red-eye back tonight. I have it on good authority Aaron will be—along with the rest of the team—at a Cup party at Jim Steele’s house tomorrow night. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you there.”
That thought has merit. I could lay in ambush at Aaron’s place, but he could still be mad. Maybe not answer the door. It might be better to confront him in a public place.
How’s that for a girl who used to shun the limelight, but who will now use it to her advantage?
Nora starts for the door, but turns back once more. “One other thing… just promise me if I’m in your wedding party to Aaron, the dresses won’t be hideous.”
Laughing, I nod. “I promise.”
CHAPTER 27
Wylde
I’ll have to say, it’s refreshing having a hockey party to celebrate the Cup win without having to fend off drunk fans or puck bunnies who don’t know how to take “no” for an answer.
Jim Steele’s Cup party is more teenager focused, given he has a thirteen-year-old daughter. It seems her entire rising eighth-grade class is here, a mixture of giggly girls and pimply-faced boys sprouting their first chin hairs who are trying to impress th
em.
It’s kind of cute, actually, and again, it’s more appealing than an adult party.
Of course, all the players and their significant others are here, so there’s plenty of frivolity and drinking. Just in an understated, more private kind of way.
The difference—when contrasting Guy’s party at The Sneaky Saguaro and Jim’s party here at his house—boils right down to the age differences. Guy is twenty years old. Jim is broaching thirty-three.
Tacker and Nora make their way over to where I stand in the corner of Jim’s living room. He and his wife separated a few months ago—just as the playoffs were gearing up. I don’t pretend to know anything about the cause, but Jim has been struggling to find his footing as a single dad sharing custody of his daughter, Lucy, with his estranged wife.
Tacker hands me a beer.
“Thanks,” I reply, noting Nora’s not drinking anything. I tease her, saying, “You the DD tonight?”
“Um…” she hems, her face flushing as she looks to Tacker in a panic.
Tacker just stares at her.
“What’s going on?” I ask, thinking their vibes are very weird tonight.
Then it hits me… Nora’s not drinking. Not that she’s a big drinker, but she’ll usually have a beer when we’re all out like this.
“Holy shit,” I drawl. “You’re…”
“Not announcing it to the world,” Tacker growls in a low voice, cutting me off.
“Pregnant?” I whisper.
Nora steps in closer, her eyes bright with excitement. “We just took the test this morning. I mean… we can’t be any more than six weeks, so we’re not saying anything to anyone yet.”
I make a mock motion of zipping my lips, then throw the pretend key over my shoulder. “Scout’s honor. But would it be weird if I hugged you right now? Would that give it away?”
Nora smirks. “Yes. People would find that incredibly odd.”
“Fist bump then,” I exclaim, holding my fist out to her. When she taps hers against mine, I spread my hand, wiggling my fingers and murmuring. “Blow it up.”
Tacker snorts, muttering. “You two are beyond weird.”
I can’t fucking contain myself. Putting my arm around Tacker’s shoulders, I pull him in for a tight side-hug—people thinking it’s weird be damned. “I’m so fucking happy for you, dude. I’m going to be an uncle.”
“More like a godfather,” Tacker replies.
“Really?” I exclaim, my eyes going wide. “That’s a huge responsibility. I’m here to tell you that I’m ready for it.”
Tacker mutters something like, “Shut the fuck up,” but I’m distracted by the buzz of my phone. Ever since Clarke gave me the brush-off five days ago, I’ve been hawking my messages in the vain hope she’ll reach out.
So far, I’ve been disappointed each time.
My notification is for an email. When I tap on the icon, I’m jolted with a surprise I sort of expected, but it’s still slightly shocking when I see it.
An email from Tripp Horschen.
His message is short and simple, but it gives me exactly what I asked for.
Attached is a copy of my bank statement and the receipt from the literacy charity showing my donation.
Now fuck off.
Chuckling, I tap on the JPG images, feeling some of the weight slide off my shoulders at the clear evidence this asshole is $200,000 poorer while a good charity’s coffers have risen.
Turning my phone toward Tacker and Nora, I tell them, “Tripp came through. Donation has been made.”
Tacker taps his beer bottle against mine, and we all take a moment to soak in the fact I successfully blackmailed that asshole as a means of punishment to salve my anger. I’m probably going to hell for this, and yet… I don’t feel bad in the slightest.
I start to tuck my phone back in my pocket when it buzzes again.
This time, I have a text and as I glance at it, a bolt of what feels like lightning rockets through my body as I realize it’s from Clarke.
Two simple words. I’m sorry.
She could have given me a million words—I would have accepted any—yet she offered the two that made everything right in my world in one fell swoop. Here I had been convinced we were irrevocably over with, yet she has opened the door to a future with that apology.
Still, I can’t help but play a little hard to get. For what?
Before she can reply, I give Tacker and Nora an apologetic smile. “I’ll be back.”
Moving through the crowd, I make my way from the living room, through the kitchen, and into a mudroom that is thankfully quiet and without people. I lean against the wall, waiting for her reply.
It doesn’t come soon enough, but when it does, it has me laughing.
For being stupid.
God, she’s adorable. And while I really want to ask if she’s at her house so I can rush over to see her, I continue the little game.
How so?
Her reply is simple, but manages to boil down to simplest terms everything that went wrong.
For blaming you for something you had no control over.
If she were here right now, I’d take her in my arms and say I understand her fears and I’m just glad she’s talking to me again. As long as we’re talking, we can fix anything.
But I want just a little more from her. She put me through hell these last few days, and I want to know if she really has moved past her hang-ups.
So I press her for more revelations by texting back.
And…
There’s no immediate response. I wonder if I pushed a little too hard to get her to continue talking out her feelings. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Clarke, it’s that she sometimes needs to take things in baby steps.
I startle when there’s a tap on my shoulder. Turning in irritation to see who would be bothering me when I’m in the middle of something so important, I freeze when I’m met by my very own beautiful but frustrating girl staring from behind her glasses. She shrugs, giving me a sheepish grin, and answers my last text. “For waiting this long to apologize. I should have driven after you the night you left my house.”
I shove my phone in my pocket, take her by the shoulders, and jerk her to me. Dipping down, I rub my nose along her cheek and murmur. “I’m just glad you came to your senses.”
Clarke throws her arms around my shoulders, hugging me tightly. “I’m really sorry, Aaron. I was awful to blame you, especially because you are the most amazing person I’ve ever known, and I know, deep in my soul, you’d never do anything to hurt me.”
“It’s okay,” I reassure her, burying my face in her neck.
“I love you,” she says, her words clear and true. My head pops up so I can see her face, and there’s nothing but conviction in her expression. We’ve never talked about the depth of past relationships, but I can tell this is the first time she’s ever said those words to a man.
Just as this is the first time I’ll give them to a woman. “I love you, too, Clarke. So much.”
There’s a kiss that follows our proclamation. As usual, we both get lost in it. I find myself sinking into it, willing to stay gone in this moment forever, but Clarke apparently has other things that still need to be discussed.
She pulls her mouth from mine, giving me a slight push backward. “Now… want to tell me why you were in Los Angeles?”
I hesitate way too long before I drawl, “Um… not really.”
Clarke merely cocks a beautifully arched auburn brow, and I know I’ll never be able to keep this secret from her.
With a sigh, I admit, “I went to see Tripp Horschen.”
She doesn’t even react, which tells me she’d already pretty much guessed. “And is he alive?”
“He might have a sore gut,” I admit, this time not able to hide the satisfied smirk that comes to my face. “And his bank account might be lighter.”
“You stole money from him?” Clarke gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.
I roll my eyes
. “Of course not. I merely convinced him to donate to your favorite literacy charity in the amount of $200,000, which is the amount he was paid to be on that stupid fucking show.”
Clarke’s eyes narrow slightly, but I can’t tell if I’ve offended her or not. On one hand, I know she would rather just let all this die down and never think about it again. On the other, I was merely seeking justice, which, it has to be said, is a noble endeavor.
It appears she’s impressed and touched by my efforts since she throws herself into my arms, hugging me tightly as she proclaims, “You’re my hero.”
Fuck… that makes me feel as good as hearing she loves me.
You think we’d stay in that moment forever, relishing the fact we’ve come back together and we’ve acknowledged there’s real love between us and we have a future filled with so much promise.
But no…. women have to go and ruin everything.
“Clarke? I didn’t know you were here.”
I recognize Blue’s voice behind us. Clarke pulls away from me, and I want to snatch her back. Before I can even glare at Blue or snarl with propriety, Pepper appears and literally yanks Clarke out of the mudroom. “I’m so glad you’re here. We’re getting the group together for a picture with the Cup.”
I look past Pepper to see Brooke, Regan, Willow, and Nora.
“Come on,” Pepper says, tugging Clarke by the hand away from me. I start to follow, but a hand comes out, tagging me in the chest and pushing me back.
It’s Tacker.
He merely shakes his head with a wry smile, “It’s a women’s picture, dude. Us men aren’t invited.”
I want to be offended, but as I watch Clarke following the girls with a huge smile on her face, I can’t be offended. The message is clear. She’s part of the family now.
“Did you tell her what you did with Tripp?” Tacker asks.
“Not the sordid details, but enough to know I’m going to get very lucky later tonight.”
Tacker snorts, clapping me on the shoulder. “You know… this has been quite the summer of weddings.”
“Four so far,” I reply with a nod, watching Clarke as she heads through the kitchen into the living room as the women all move around the Cup.
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