by S. M. West
It would be so easy to tumble down the rabbit hole of self-recriminations. I’ve spent years doing that and I’ll drive myself mad if I go there again. I fucked up and pushed her away. No longer.
“Fuck, yeah. I am too.”
25
Pippa
My handbag slides from my shoulder onto the floor and I kick off my boots, exhausted and glad to be home, back at my parents’. Paige steps in the house behind me and shuts out the icy late November wind and snow.
On the drive from the airport, it started to flurry and since then, it’s picked up. Now it’s a steady flow of heavy wet snow and they are calling for several inches before it’s done. Winter is here.
“Did you even get a chance to hit Century 21 or see the tree in Rockefeller Center?” Paige asks, taking my coat to hang in the closet.
“I was in and out.” I flew into New York City last night for an eight AM interview and was on the first flight out afterward.
“Bummer.” She pouts, wheeling my small carry-on to the base of the staircase. “Well, when you get the job, I’ll be there all the time. And we are definitely shopping.”
“Of course.” My hands rest on her shoulder and guide her gently into the kitchen. “But I have to get the job first.”
“You’ll get it. I just know. In fact, you’ll get your pick. I have a feeling the North will offer you the job too.” She’s so matter-of-fact that I can’t help but smile at her confidence in me. It’s refreshing and so welcomed.
I have been staying with my parents since coming back to the city a couple of weeks ago. Drew and I still talk, text, and have seen each other a few times, but we haven’t been alone together. And we haven’t talked about us since my blow-up. He’s tried but I keep dodging the topic. It’s childish and we’ll have to talk eventually but I’m not ready.
“We’ll see.” I laugh, withholding the fact that I already know where I stand with both interviews.
I interviewed with the North four days ago and they called this morning to offer me the job. The Fury offered me the job on the spot when I met with them this morning. I need to make my mind up within the next twenty-four hours.
“Wanna bet?” Paige holds out her pinky and winks.
“Nah, let’s just see.” I feel bad for not telling her everything, but I want a few hours to sit with this before I say anything to anyone. “We’ll know soon enough.”
Drew texts to ask how the interview went and I fill him in but leave out the part about the offers and ignore his call when it comes in seconds after my reply. He tries again later, when I’m in bed, and this time I relent, wanting to hear his voice.
“Hi.” I turn off the light and the room is plunged into darkness.
Snuggling under the covers, I softly close my eyes at the raspy, rough quality of his voice.
“Hey. You finally decided to pick up.” Just hearing him sends a ripple of spine-tingling thrills through me.
“You gave me no choice; you weren’t giving up.”
“Pip, you always have a choice,” he says passionately, and I realize he’s taken my comment the wrong way.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I was kidding.”
“Okay, but I want you to know that I’ll never take your choice away from you. You’re in control. Always.”
“Thank you. How are you?” I change the subject, wanting to keep it light and not venture into the thick, murky waters of our entanglement.
“I miss you.”
I suck in a breath, my heart racing.
“Drew, I—”
“I know, you don’t want to talk about it, but we’ll have to eventually.”
“Fine, but not now. I’m heading to bed.”
“I won’t keep you long.” His voice is soft and warm, wrapping around me. “So how was New York?”
“Good.”
I burrow deeper into my bed and tell him about the Fury’s facilities and how impressed I was with the medical team lead. He’ll be my boss if I take the job and he is approachable, knowledgeable. I feel like we totally clicked.
“What about Toronto?”
A knot forms in my stomach. I don’t want to lie to him, but I also don’t want to discuss this over the phone. I haven’t made my mind up.
As if sensing there is more to my silence, he pushes. “Pip, have either of them offered you the job?”
It’s a direct question, leaving no wiggle room. I’ll be out and out lying if I say no.
“This isn’t something for the phone.”
“You’ve got an offer, haven’t you? Or two?”
Sucking in a breath, I weigh the fallout of lying or ignoring him, but either way, it isn’t mature.
“Yes.” My voice is small. “Both of them offered me the position.”
He hollers and chuckles. “Pippa, that’s fucking phenomenal. I knew you had this in the bag, baby.” The joy in his voice causes my lips to curve up at the corners and a small part of my apprehension eases.
“I’m glad you did because I’ve been a nervous wreck.” I laugh and hope we skip over the hard part but know that isn’t possible.
“So which one are you taking?”
“Drew, I wanted to talk to you in person about this.”
It’s true. I was going to tell everyone tomorrow night at the party. I didn’t want to take away from my parents’ anniversary celebration, but Finn, Tom, and I leave for LA the next morning, so there is no better time.
“You’re going to New York, aren’t you?” Each word is slow, measured, and because I know this man so well, I hear his pain.
It kills me to disappoint him. But the New York Fury are the best choice for me right now. Jumping into a relationship, especially with Drew, after my failed marriage doesn’t seem wise.
Yes, I willingly reconnected with Drew and selfishly took all that I could from him—some might say it was deliberate. Payback. But I swear it wasn’t; I never imagined ever having another chance with him—but I went in knowing we didn’t have a future.
“Drew.” My voice cracks. “Yes.”
Silence engulfs the phone line. I can barely make out his breathing, but I feel him. The nothingness is insufferable.
“I should get going. It’s late and I’ve got to get up early to start setting up for the party tomorrow night. You’re coming, right?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles.
“Okay, see you then. Good night.”
“Pip, I’m really happy for you. Night,” he says and ends the call.
With the lights out and only my warring thoughts, I cry. I wish I could say they were happy tears because I have the job of my dreams in a city some would kill to live in—my future is bright—but right now, all I can think of is Drew and his disappointment. And I dread more than ever telling my family.
It’s half past six, and while earlier than I’d planned to wake up, I might as well start the day. My sleep was horrible. I spent the darkest hours of the night reliving every painful memory of my life. Why? Who the hell knows, but my thoughts are jumbled and if I stay in bed, it isn’t as if I’ll get more sleep.
The day is productive and busy with all my siblings, Cass, and Paige helping to get things ready for the party. The restaurant is decorated like a winter wonderland with white gauzy fabric draped diagonally across the ceiling and tiny white lights twinkling from all corners of the room.
My parents married on a blizzardy day in December and despite how cold and unpredictable the weather can be, my mother loves winter. Give her ice skating, skiing, hot cocoa, and the fresh, crisp scent of the first fallen snow and she’s in heaven. And since she’s a costume designer, she could spend hours looking at winter accessories. That woman has a never-ending collection of scarves and hats.
“It looks amazing.” Cass ties the last bit of white tulle around a wooden post.
“It sure does.” I glance to the clock.
It’s seven twenty and almost all the guests are here; only a handful are left to arrive, including Drew. He isn�
�t here yet and I’m nervous. Not about the party, but about seeing him. I half expected him to call or show up today to talk me out of New York, but nothing. Maybe he has accepted my choice?
I told my siblings, Paige, her parents, and Cass while getting ready for the party, and while they all hoped I’d pick Toronto—Tom even saying I should reconsider—in the end, they were thrilled for me.
The minute my parents arrive, the excitement grows. My mother beams from ear to ear as a crowd greets her. Her signature blonde locks, a long red wool coat, and a slate crochet scarf herald her arrival. With Dad at her side, it’s so easy to see how much they love each other.
My parents are affectionate and no matter how many kids, the stresses or challenges of marriage, they aren’t able to keep their hands off each other. Next to them are Olivia and Sam; the four of them look like lovesick teenagers and I can’t help but smile, hoping for that one day.
After making the rounds and spending time with my parents, I find a quiet corner to check my phone. Nothing from Drew. It’s well past nine and I’m starting to worry. Or maybe he’s done with me. After all, I pretty much told him that by choosing New York.
I brush down the sides of my unruly long hair and Paige slips in beside me. “Have you seen Drew?” She scans the crowd like I did only moments ago.
I shrug, trying to act casual despite my mounting disappointment. “Nope. Maybe he’s at the office?”
While Drew has kept his word and isn’t back at work, he is still helping with the case.
A waiter waltzes by with a tray of champagne and I snag two glasses, one for each hand. I have to get on a plane tomorrow, back to LA, so I can’t overdo it, but right now, I need a drink. Or two.
Paige attempts to take one of the flutes from me, but I’m fast, moving my hand out of her reach while tilting my head back to down the other glass. Her rounding chocolate eyes match her gaping mouth and I chuckle.
“Sharing is caring,” she whines with a pout.
“Get your own.” I start the second glass and plunk the empty one on a tray as another waiter makes the rounds.
“It’s not like Drew to not be here.”
“I told him last night about choosing New York.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen and she furrows her brow. “How’d he take it?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t really say anything.”
“And you think he’s not here because he’s upset?”
I shrug, having no other explanation for his absence.
“Are you going to do a long-distance relationship?”
“What?” I almost choke on the last of my champagne. “We aren’t together.”
“What do you mean? You guys have been together since you got back. Don’t bother denying it.”
I pull her further down the hall, away from the noise. “We’re not back together. Yes, I did sleep with him.”
Heat creeps up my neck into my cheeks. Paige would never judge me or think less of me for having sex with a guy, no strings. But this is her brother, and she knows me well. An only sex arrangement doesn’t come naturally to me and it never could be that way with Drew.
“But that was it. Drew may have thought more of it, but I never had any intentions of getting back together.”
“But you love him.” It isn’t a question.
This is where I could lie. Lie to my best friend. Lie to myself, and we’d both know it.
“Yes, I love him. Always will.” Water pricks at the corner of my eyes. “But Drew and I aren’t meant to be.”
“You’re lying to yourself.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Why’d you sleep with him if you knew it wasn’t going anywhere?”
Rather than accept the seriousness of the conversation, a wry smirk creeps across my face. Paige, of all people, should know better than to ask that question.
“Really? That’s what you want to ask me?” I quirk an eyebrow and her cheeks redden.
“Fair enough.” She laughs and hooks an arm around my waist. “I promise to never say this again, but you’re fooling yourself if you think it’s over with Drew. You guys are meant for each other.”
My throat constricts and the burning in my eyes spreads, now tickling my nose. Tears threaten to fall, and I draw her in for a hug, hoping to shove those feelings down deep. My phone buzzes between us and we pull apart.
“That might be him now.” Paige wears a hopeful, watery smile and walks away.
26
Pippa
Riggs’s number flashes on the screen and my heart sinks. I hit the button and press the phone to my ear, placing my hand over the other so I can hear.
“Hello. Riggs?”
“Pippa.” His voice cracks and my heart twists at the anguish in his tone.
We talk daily and even with what he has on his plate, he’s been feeding me updates on Brock’s prognosis, which isn’t good, for this season anyway, but his father is also declining fast.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Ahh, no.” He pauses before starting again with a steadier timbre. “My dad died.”
“Mason, oh no, I’m sorry.” My now-icy hand covers my mouth to hold back a sob. “What do you need?”
“You’re already giving it to me. I just need a friend.” His voice is shaky as he continues to tell me about his father’s last hours.
I slip into the kitchen and wander back into Sam’s office, so we can talk where it’s quieter. We talk for a long time and not too long into the conversation, I switch to the restaurant’s land line because my phone dies. Surprisingly, even though Riggs is usually a man of few words, he unloads and does most of the talking. My heart breaks for him.
Before ending the conversation, he naturally asks after me and my plans. I tell him about my decision with New York and about going to LA, being sure to add that I’ll be back in time for the funeral. Because of Brock’s situation, we will likely see each other despite our lawyers hashing it out to ensure Brock isn’t there.
He’s promised to send the signed papers to my lawyer as soon as all trace of me is gone from his house. I can’t wait. That day can’t come soon enough. Then we say our goodbyes and promise to talk soon.
“There you are.” My mother slides her arm in mine with a smile. “Where have you been?”
“Ah, I was just on the phone.”
“Was it Drew?” Dad asks, now standing on the other side of me.
“We haven’t seen him all night.” Mom scans behind me, expecting to see Drew. “Olivia and Sam were trying to get a hold of him but haven’t been able to.” Worry coats her words and echoes deep within me.
Where is Drew?
“I don’t know where he is.” I involuntarily shiver and hope to shake off my melancholy mood that settled in during my call. It’s lingering as Drew’s absence looms large.
My parents have their coats and look like they are leaving. It’s time to tell them about New York.
“Mom. Dad. I’ve got some news.” I lead them to a table, each of them sitting on either side of me.
“What’s up?” Dad’s fingers slide beneath my chin to tilt my face up, gifting me with an encouraging smile.
“I got the position with the Fury.”
My gaze hurriedly flicks between my parents, trying to detect any disappointment, but they both gasp, eyes widening, and laugh, smiling as they hug me like a sandwich and I’m the filling in the middle.
“That’s fantastic! New York, here we come!” Dad beams.
“Pippa, congratulations! What about Toronto?” Mom asks.
“They offered me the position too. It was my choice.”
And I’m damn lucky, that’s for sure. It’s rare to get a job with a pro team, let alone be in the coveted position of choosing which league and team to work for.
“Fucking A!”
My father drums his hands on the table and while my mom chides him for his profanity, her delight is blinding.
“Darling,” Mom says lovingly
, and brushes a few strands behind my ear. “We couldn’t be happier for you. And New York is what you want?”
“Yeah, it is. I’ll miss you guys and I promise to visit, but you know, New York is where it’s at. I’d be crazy to turn it down.”
I don’t say that working in my hometown would be another plum gig—we all know it—but it’s my choice and they respect that.
“What are you talking about?” Dad asks. “We’ll visit you. So much that you’ll be sick of us. You have to get us tickets.” He cups the back of my neck and pulls me in, placing his lips on my forehead and holding me there.
I swallow past the nostalgic lump in my throat. I’m a Daddy’s girl, through and through, and this right here—now—is magic. I don’t know why I was worried to tell them or anyone else for that matter; everyone has been supportive. Even Drew, despite wishing I’d chosen differently. Is that why he isn’t here tonight?
“They are fucking lucky to have you,” Dad says and this time, Mom slaps him on the arm.
“Colin, seriously? You could have said that in a better way.” Her expression is stern, disapproving.
“Nah, don’t think so.” He winks with a chuckle and her frown slides easily upward as her eyes twinkle at her naughty husband.
“What about Drew?” she asks, and both my parents stare at me intently.
“He knows.”
“That’s not what I mean. You two have reconnected and now you’re off to New York. What does that mean?” A little line forms between my mother’s brows, usually implying her concern.
“We’re not back together,” I say insistently.
My father barks out a laugh and gives me a look that suggests I’m absurd. Mom clears her throat and my attention swings back to her.
“Pippa, let’s be honest.” She’s using her motherly tone. Not reproachful or nagging, more solemn and thoughtful. She means business and expects the same from me.