Make a Move

by Meika Usher

  “What are you doing?” she asked as the crowd murmured around her. “We’re already engaged. You already did this. We—”

  “Cat,” he said, holding her hand between both of his. “Will you not-marry me?”

  “Seriously?” she asked, laughing.

  “You want a not-wedding wedding, I’ll give you a not-wedding wedding.” He grinned, all dimply and shit. “You just have to say yes.”

  Cat laughed, looking around the room before fixing her eyes on Jude’s face. “Yes. You big doofus. Yes.”

  The bafflement of the crowd quickly melted into a chorus of awws and how sweets and what the hell is a not-wedding wedding. Cat looped her arms around Jude’s neck as he stood, and he kissed her to a round of applause.

  “Good news,” Sunny said, breaking up the happy couple. “You’ve already got half the damn ceremony planned.” Then, she slid a glass of unicorn jizz into Cat’s hand and said, “Enjoy your engagement party!”

  I watched as she pilfered an entire pie from the dessert table and threaded her free arm through Ben’s. She sailed from the restaurant a thousand pounds lighter.

  Once it was clear that disaster had been averted, my mind refocused. Birdie. I needed to find Birdie and finish saying sorry. Explain myself. Beg her forgiveness and hope she wouldn’t crush me like a bug.

  Pushing through the jumble of people, I went back to the gift table, where I’d left her.

  She wasn’t there.

  Whirling around, I searched the room for her face. For a flash of her black dress. For a glimpse of her smile.

  Nowhere to be seen.

  Where did she—

  “Hey, good job diffusing that bomb,” a pretty pregnant woman said to me with a smile. After a second, I recognized her as Jack’s wife.

  “Thanks,” I said, still half-looking around for Birdie.

  “I love Cat, but even I wanted to murder her on Sunny’s behalf.” She shook her head. “It was getting out of control.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, forcing myself to look at her. “Have you seen Birdie?”

  “Sunny’s sister?” she asked, looking around the room. “Yeah, I think I saw her head outside.”

  “Thanks,” I said with what I hoped was a smile before heading for the door. My heart slammed hard in my chest. She had to be here, I thought. She had to be. She wouldn’t just leave, would she?

  Why not? a voice whispered from somewhere deep in my mind. Isn’t that what all the others did when they found out?

  The thought settled like stone in my stomach. Forcing myself to swallow, I shoved through the door. The restaurant faced Hope River, and the moon was bright. It was actually a really beautiful night. Except for the fact that Birdie was not here.

  I looked up and down the walk, then searched the parking lot for her car. Nothing.

  Certainty rushed through me so fast I sank to the bench just outside the entrance.

  She was gone.

  48: Birdie

  The moment Nate went to deal with The Sunny Situation, I’d headed for the exit. I couldn’t stand there and wait, imagining the excuses and the reasons and the apologies he’d spew once he returned.

  I wandered aimlessly for a while before pulling my phone from my pocket and shooting a text to my best friend, Chad, asking him to meet me. Then, twenty minutes later, I slammed through the door of Heathcliff’s, drawing startled looks from the handful of half-drunk regulars scattered around the bar.

  “I need a drink,” I declared, marching toward Vaughn. “Stronger the better.”

  Nate lied to me. Lied.

  Okay, maybe not outright. But, still. A lie of omission was still a lie. And, dammit, he should have told me. Why didn’t he tell me?

  Vaughn’s brow creased as I reached him. “Everything okay, Bird?” he asked, even as he slid a shot of tequila across the counter.

  “Just peachy,” I replied before slamming it back. “Fucking peachy.”

  “Got your message,” another voice chimed in and I looked over to find Chad climbing onto the stool next to me. “What’s going on?”

  I sat the shot glass down on the counter and indicated to Vaughn that I’d like another. “Just needed a drinking buddy,” I told Chad. “The wife cool with letting you out of the house?”

  “The wife,” Chad responded, nodding a thanks to Vaughn as he put a mug of frothy beer in front of him, “is fine with me leaving the house. Turns out, she’s pretty pissed at me for knocking her up and making her so, and I quote, goddamn miserable. If I didn’t leave the house, she might have murdered me.” He shrugged and drank from his mug. “She got like this with the boy child, too.”

  “Maybe you should stop knocking her up, then.” I drained my second shot and winced. Shit was disgusting, but judging from the warmth flooding my veins, it was doing its job.

  “That’s the plan,” Chad said. “No more babies after this one.” He leaned an elbow on the counter and rested his head on it, eyeing me for the first time since he arrived. Concern flickered over his face. “Now. What’s going on with you?”

  “I’d actually like to know that, too,” Vaughn said, leaning against the counter. His dark brown eyes zoomed in on my face. “It’s not often you waltz in here and demand a drink.” He plopped a glass of water down in front of me. “Usually, you ask nicely.”

  I glared and sipped the water. “This is no time for please and thank you,” I said, putting the glass back down. “Or water, for that matter.”

  “Well, water’s what you’re getting,” Vaughn replied with a level stare. “At least until you tell us what the hell’s the matter.”

  I growled and threw my head back. “Boys are stupid, is what’s the matter.”

  “Hey,” Vaughn and Chad said simultaneously, and I shrugged. “It’s true.”

  “Galaxy Crash dude again?” Vaughn slid a bottle of beer to a dude who’d walked up, and he went back to his seat without a word. “I thought you sorted it out, after the girlfriend thing.”

  I looked up to find both men watching me. I didn’t know how much to tell them. Everything? Or just enough for them to get why I was upset? “It was,” I muttered, still not sure but needing to say something. “Until it wasn’t.”

  “Wow,” Chad drawled. “You are so good at this whole talking thing.”

  Vaughn didn’t say anything. Just continued to study me in his calm, quiet way. Studied me and waited. Because he knew I’d tell him eventually. He didn’t need to work for it. That was the annoying thing about him. I just...told him shit.

  “He was a virgin.”

  I felt a little bad saying the words aloud. Telling these two men, who were strangers to Nate. But they weren’t strangers to me. They were my best friends. And I needed to talk about this with my best friends.

  “Before we slept together,” I clarified, refusing to feel bad. Because what did I have to feel bad about? “He was a virgin.”

  Chad let out a low whistle, but Vaughn continued to not say anything.

  “You didn’t know?” Chad frowned. “How did you not know?”

  “The man is thirty-two years old!” I threw my hands up. “He’s very good at...things. How would I know?”

  “Fair enough.” Chad lifted his mug to his lips, but paused before he drank. “And good for him.”

  “What do you mean, good for him?” I asked just as Vaughn slid a bowl of pretzels in front of me.

  “You need to rage crunch,” was all he said.

  “I mean,” Chad continued, “if the dude is that good at things, I’ve gotta give him props. Some guys never learn those things.”

  “Oh, I know.” I chomped on a pretzel. “Believe me, I know.”

  “So, what’s the problem here?”

  The question came from Vaughn and my head swiveled his way. “What do you mean, what’s the problem?”

  “He was a virgin. So what?”

  “The problem,” I ground out, wishing desperately for another drink. And maybe a punching bag. “The problem is that
he didn’t tell me.”

  “Ahh.” Vaughn nodded. And then he shrugged. “So what?”

  “Would you stop saying that?” I reached over and grabbed Chad’s beer, taking a hefty swig. “That’s something a guy should tell a girl.”

  “Why?” Vaughn folded his arms over his chest and the dim overhead light caught the fresh Mother Gothel I’d added to his sleeve last week. “Did you ask him?”

  “Well, no,” I answered slowly, looking at him as if he’d suddenly dropped in IQ points. “Why would I ask him if he was a damn virgin?”

  “Not specifically that.” Vaughn reached beneath the bar and pulled up a damp rag. “But his sexual history, in general.” He wiped the bar top in front of him. “Did you ask him how many people he’d slept with?”

  “I did not.”

  “And he didn’t ask you?”

  “No...” Irritation skittered over me. Where was he going with this?

  Nodding, Vaughn paused in his wipe-down and considered me. After a long moment, he said, “I can see why that would bother you.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I muttered, reaching for another pretzel.

  “But he didn’t technically do anything wrong.”

  “What do you mean, he didn’t do anything wrong?” I turned to Chad, outraged. “Do you believe this?”

  “If you didn’t ask him, then he didn’t lie to you.” Vaughn lifted a shoulder. “He’s not obligated to tell you about his sexual history. Just like you’re not obligated to tell him yours.”

  No, I hadn’t told him mine. He already knew.

  And when I thought about that, realization rushed over me.

  Of course he wouldn’t tell me. I was Birdie Oliver, queen of commitment issues, duchess of one-night stands, princess of non-permanence. I mean, fuck. I couldn’t even get a tattoo and I gave them to other people for a living. Why would he tell me? Nate was just the kind of guy that would attach meaning to that. And maybe he thought it was meaningless to me.

  I sank backward, forgetting momentarily that there was no back on this barstool. Once I regained my balance, I treated Vaughn to my best glare. “Is this, like, bro code or something?”

  “Come on, Bird,” he said, tossing the cloth back in its bucket. “You know me better than that. I’m on your side here.”

  “Uh huh.” I cradled my chin in my hands and glared.

  “Maybe,” he continued, lifting his brows, “you should think about why this bothers you so much.”

  “Ooh, good question,” Chad chimed in, leaning closer to peer at me.

  I looked from Vaughn to Chad, my mouth following open then snapping shut. “I...”

  “How about we let her ponder that,” Vaughn said to Chad, sliding down the bar.

  As Chad moved seats, he said, “Can you imagine being a virgin at thirty-two? Gotta be hell trying to get laid.”

  His words hit me like a full-blown punch to the chest. Maybe it wasn’t that he thought it was meaningless to me. Maybe I was meaningless to him. “What if that’s it?” I looked at them. “What if he knew I’d be a surefire way to get laid, and that’s why he was with me?”

  “Or,” Vaughn countered, shooting Chad a shut the fuck up look. “Maybe he likes you.”

  I barely heard Vaughn’s reply. “I’m just the kind of girl a thirty-something-year-old virgin would want to hang out with,” I said to no one in particular. “I’m a sure thing.”

  “Bird, that’s—”

  “No, it makes sense.” I looked up to find Vaughn and Chad watching me. “He’s a nice guy. I’m not the kind of girl a guy like him settles down with.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I wrapped my hands around the mug I’d stolen from Chad. “I’m the kind of girl you fuck around with.”

  As I said the words, my heart twisted and cracked in my chest. He was never looking for more with me. And now that he’d lost his v-card, I’d served my purpose.

  Falling for me, my ass. You can’t be fall for someone you didn’t trust. And, clearly, Nate did not trust me. He didn’t trust me and he was a big fat liar on top of it.

  Growling, I lifted Chad’s beer to my lips and drank.

  “Well, he’s not that nice if that’s how he sees you,” Chad said, not even complaining about the stolen beer. He was a good friend. “In fact, he’s a fucking idiot.”

  “Agreed,” Vaughn said, looking just beyond my shoulder. “But something tells me that’s not the case.”

  “What—” I started, turning in time to see Nate headed straight for me. My heart did a little slingshot thing around my chest cavity, but I reined that shit in real fast. No slingshot-y things for dudes who used me for sex, dammit. I held tight to that thought as he reached me.

  “Hey,” he said, looking from me to my boys, then back again. “Can...can we talk?”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Chad and Vaughn angle their bodies toward us. Just like a couple of nosy old women.

  “I’m good,” I said, turning back to my beer.

  “Birdie.” From the corner of my eye, I saw him reach for me, but then ball his hand into a fist and shove it into his coat pocket. “If you’d just let me explai—”

  “Explain what, exactly?” I spun on my stool to face him, forcing him to take a step back. “Explain why I was good enough to fuck, but not to trust enough to tell me you were—”

  “Can we take this outside?” he cut in, looking around the room, face strained.

  “Fine.” I dropped my feet to the floor and crossed the room. “You wanna talk, let’s talk.” Yanking the door open, I waited for him to exit, then I followed.

  Once the door closed behind us, Nate turned to me. “Birdie,” he said. “I’m sor—”

  “No.” I folded my arms over my chest, bracing against the cold. “You don’t talk. You had your chance to talk. You had months to talk. It’s my turn now.”

  His mouth thinned and he nodded, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets.

  Adrenaline mixed with anger and alcohol, and I let the combination consume me. “Look, I get it,” I started, whirling away from him to pace. “Your v-card is one hell of a thing to carry around for so long. But what I don’t get is...” I faced him, refusing to be moved by the emotion surging across his face. “What I don’t get is, why you thought it was okay to use me to unload it.”

  “That’s not—”

  “No,” I cut in, raising a hand. “I’m still talking.”

  He nodded, and I continued. “You had so many opportunities, Nate. So many opportunities to tell me. But you didn’t.” I shook my head, ignoring the hammer of my heart. “You didn’t trust me with that part of you. You claim to be falling for me, but you didn’t trust me.”

  I raised my eyes to him, letting the hot, hot anger take over. Because anger was safe. Everything else? Well, everything else could wait. “So, I was good enough to fuck, but not to trust.”

  His eyes widened. “What? No. Birdie, that’s not—”

  “Because if you couldn’t trust me enough to tell me, clearly I didn’t mean more to you than an easy way to get rid of that pesky v-card you’d been carrying around all that time.” I shrugged, the shots I’d slammed back inside burning through me. And, oh, was I thankful for it. “Maybe that was why you hung out with me in the first place. After all, I do have a reputation.”

  “Yeah, you do have a reputation,” he shot back, the neon Heathcliff’s sign catching a light of anger in his eyes. “A reputation for running. A reputation for not sticking around. A reputation for...avoiding expectations.” He shoved his hand through his hair, a humorless laugh falling from him. “You wanna talk about why I’m with you? What about why you’re with me?”

  “What do you mean?” I squared my shoulders, self-righteous pride flowing through me. What the hell was he talking about, why I was with him? I was with him because—

  “Look at me,” he said, motioning a hand over his person. “I’m certainly not what people would expect you to be with, am I?”

  “What?” I took a step bac
k and glared. “What does that even mean?”

  “You said it yourself. You don’t want to be that girl who does what’s expected of her. Well, I’m sure no one expected you to do me.”

  “Jesus, Nate.” I curled my lip. “Are you kidding me with this?”

  “Sounds ridiculous, right?” He met my eye. “Almost as ridiculous as me using you for sex?”

  “That is not the same thing,” I growled. “Not by a long damn shot.”

  “I’m not using you,” he said, holding my stare. “I would never use you.” He was quiet for a long moment as he searched my face. When he finally spoke, his words were quiet. “I meant what I said earlier, Birdie.” He dragged in a breath before adding, “In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen completely.”

  Somewhere beyond the anger and hurt and alcohol, I melted. Somewhere inside, I wanted to believe him. But that somewhere got lost in all the other things going on inside. So I held tight to the anger. Because all that other shit? Well, that was scary. That was vulnerable. That was real.

  And if I let someone near all that, I’d risk something much more important than my dinged-up pride. I’d been used for sex before. It was much scarier to...

  No. That wasn’t what this was.

  I shook my head. “That’s probably just the sex haze talking,” I told him. “That’s what happens when you don’t know how to separate sex from emotions.” I took a few steps backward, reaching for the door handle. “Maybe once you’re more experienced, you’ll figure it out.”

  And then I went inside, leaving him on the sidewalk alone.

  49: Nate

  Birdie’s words echoed in my brain as I drove home. In the rhythm of the blinkers and the sound of engines, I heard her. Maybe once you’re more experienced, you’ll figure it out.

  Like I didn’t know how I felt about her. Like I only felt anything because we slept together.

  It was insulting. It was hurtful. It was wrong.

  And it didn’t matter.

  Everything I’d been afraid of came to be. She was freaked out and angry and hurt, and she walked away. Like I knew she would.