There was a knock on the door, and she wiped her eyes quickly. Nope, nothing to see here—just a twenty-something workaholic paying off her student loans one corrected typo at a time. No broken hearts, and no longing to be strolling through the streets of Manhattan, leaning against a muscular slab of pure comfort with his strong arms holding her close.
Shit, just thinking about how much she missed him made tears spring to her eyes again. How long did it take to get over someone, especially when the “relationship”—such as it was—hadn’t even lasted that long? She should Google that. Make a spreadsheet about it. For real. Checklists always helped.
“Come in,” she said, typing a bunch of nonsense into a comment on the computer so it would look like she’d been hard at work.
Talia nudged open the door, holding two steaming mugs. “Hey,” she said. “Mind if I come in?”
Jessie nodded, swiveling around in her chair. She tried not to look too grateful for the distraction. She was supposed to be in her work groove—not pining after what she couldn’t have and knew deep down inside she shouldn’t even want.
“I saw your light on and thought you could use a break,” Talia said. “You can’t stay up all night working.”
“I’m so far behind, I probably have to.” But she reached for the mug. Whipped cream, chocolate syrup—and did she smell peppermint?
“I can’t think of anything more comforting than cocoa,” Talia said.
“In August?” Jessie never said no to chocolate. But she was sweating just holding the mug.
“There’s never a wrong time for warm milk and chocolate.”
Jessie remembered Talia’s mom bringing cocoa to Talia’s bedroom on nights when they were studying for a big test and she wanted them to take a break before bed. Or when Jessie’s mom got bad news and needed another surgery, and Jessie just sat at Talia’s desk, staring vacantly at the wall, unable to make herself focus even though that was the one job she had, the one thing her parents told her she needed to do. Don’t worry about Mom, and don’t let her grades slip. Just do the work that had to be done.
Mrs. Lassiter would bring her a mug just like this one, loaded with whipped cream and extra chocolate, no matter the season. “You’re fifteen going on thirty-five,” Jessie remembered her saying once, when Jessie had protested that she’d spoil her dinner. “Let yourself enjoy it.”
“You seriously made this?” Jessie asked Talia.
“And I didn’t burn down the apartment.” Talia beamed.
“I’m afraid to see the state of the kitchen.”
“I’ll clean up. I promise. Consider it my gift to you.”
“I don’t need a gift,” Jessie protested, even as she managed to eke out a smile.
“You need something.”
Jessie opened her mouth, then paused. She sipped the cocoa. It was delicious. “Is this spiked?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Talia winked. “Like I said, you need something.”
Jessie put the mug down. “You can’t get me blitzed tonight—I have work to do.”
“The only thing better than hot chocolate is a hot schnapplet. And come on, one shot of peppermint goodness isn’t going to get you blitzed. You’re an editing pro. You’ll blast through those pages like a champ.”
“I can’t,” Jessie repeated. There was no pep talk in the world that could convince her she had this.
“Jesus, Jess. What’s gotten into you? I’ve never seen you struggle with a project like this.”
Jessie scrolled absently through the pages. “I just…this book is a mess. I don’t know how to fix it.”
“I’m sure you’ve seen worse.”
“But it’s a major author, which means it has to be good.”
“What’s the problem with it?”
Jessie opened her mouth. Then closed it. She really had no idea. She’d read it…but she hadn’t read it. She couldn’t even summarize to Talia what it was about.
Talia put down her cocoa. “Girl.”
She looked at Jessie, not saying anything else.
When Talia was upset, Jessie knew what to do. It was a problem, and she could fix it. Take control, say the right thing, make the situation—if not perfect—then better than it was.
She knew how to be the one making the cocoa, pouring the wine, cooking dinner—not to mention cleaning up, keeping the fridge stocked, straightening the pillows so that even when the rest of life felt out of control, she could bring a little order to their corner of the world.
She had no idea how to be on the other side, be the one who needed to be taken care of when everything came crashing down around her.
“Tell me,” Talia said.
That was when Jessie started to cry.
“I can’t,” Jessie said through her tears. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“That’s not true.”
“I can’t figure out the book. I don’t have anything to show to Marlene. I should probably just quit now and move back home since I’m obviously not hacking it here.”
Talia stared at her. “First of all, no. Second of all, there’s no way you’re this upset about a book.”
But that just made Jessie cry harder. “I’m sorry,” she hiccupped. “I know this is exactly why you didn’t want anything to happen between me and Shawn.”
“Finally.” Talia held up her mug.
“What?”
Talia passed her a box of tissues then sat back smugly with her cocoa. “At least one of you will admit why you’re unhappy.” She shook her head, lips pressed tightly as she tried to hold back her smile. “You and Shawn. The stubbornest pair of mules I’ve ever met.”
“That sounds like something your mom would say,” Jessie said with half a laugh—even if she was totally insulted, because hi, she was nothing like Shawn.
“Where do you think I got it? She was usually saying it about us, but I think you’re an even bigger contender for the title.”
“I’m crying, and all you can do is call me an ass? Thanks.” Something dawned on her. “Wait a second. What do you mean, one of us?”
“I mean he’s miserable, you’re miserable, and neither of you will come out and say why—let alone do something about it.”
Jessie was partway to taking another sip of cocoa when she stopped, the mug frozen at her lips. “There’s no way Shawn’s miserable,” she said flatly. “He dropped me as soon as he could. Just like he did to Ellen and Steph, and who knows how many others. And just like you warned me.”
Talia put down her cocoa. “Jessie, I was wrong.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I was wrong, and I’m so, so sorry. I was trying to protect you—and protect myself. I never meant to make anyone unhappy.”
“Talia.” Jessie reached out a hand for her friend. “I’m sorry, too. I just hope you know that nothing can get in the way of our friendship—or your relationship with your brother. Having a boyfriend isn’t a substitute for having a best friend, not even close. But this was just a summer fling, it was stupid, and you don’t have to worry anymore.”
She was trying not to cry, but saying the words—reminding herself of what had happened—had the tears flowing all over again.
“You’re not listening,” Talia said, squeezing her hand back. “I’m trying to tell you that I made a mistake, and I don’t want to get in the way of you guys. I wanted to keep Shawn away from my friends because everyone always winds up crying over him. Only here you are, crying over him”—her eyes softened as Jessie sobbed a little harder—“so I guess it’s too late for that.”
“I’ll stop crying eventually,” Jessie said, blowing her nose. “I promise.”
“I shouldn’t have gotten in the way, making you think you couldn’t tell me and then, when I did find out, totally proving your point.”
“But it would have ended anyway,” Jessie said sadly. “It was better to do it sooner and break things off before I became even more sucked in—just another casualty in the string
of broken hearts Shawn leaves behind.” She tried to laugh, although it didn’t come out like much. “Anyway, I can’t afford a relationship right now, even one that’s not doomed from the start. I have way too much work to do. It’s better for me not to spend my nights and weekends distracted.”
And mornings, she thought, remembering waking up to his kiss on her nose, his erection pressing hard against her naked stomach, the way he brought her coffee in bed after he’d tongued her hard until she came.
And every waking moment at the office, reliving the feather-light thrill of his touch, counting down until she could see him again.
The pain must have been written all over her face—every touch, every whisper, every laugh they’d shared. The closeness she’d resisted until it snuck up on her anyway.
“It’s not true,” Talia said.
“Which part? The doom? The work? Trust me, Marlene is going to have my head.”
“You’re not another casualty.”
“Look at me.” Jessie gestured to her messy hair, red face, puffy eyes, the pajamas she’d barely changed out of. Sure, her room may have been spotless without Shawn’s clothes and her underwear and condoms on the floor. But she couldn’t seem to keep herself together in the same way. “I think I’m the definition of dumped.”
“Shawn hasn’t peeled himself off that couch since he wrote you that dick breakup note. He usually bounces back immediately. That’s part of the problem. He’s on to the next, with no regard for what he’s left behind, or the fact that the other person might, you know, feel something.”
Jessie sniffled. Yeah, that was about how she’d felt when she’d read his letter. Like he didn’t give a shit that she was flesh and blood and real.
“But this time,” Talia went on. “I think he might be in even worse shape than you are.” She eyed Jessie up and down, evaluating. “You’ve at least managed to shower.”
“Barely.”
“I know, and that’s why it’s obvious.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This is so unlike both of you. You’re miserable in that way that only love can do.”
Talia might have expected Jessie to keep crying at that, but instead, she burst out laughing. Things were rough right now, but she wasn’t pining for him that hard. She’d lost her head a little—okay, maybe a lot. And the same thing with her heart.
But that was because she got sucked in, she was foolish, she wasn’t thinking clearly. Responsibly. The way that she should. There was no reason to go bringing the L-word into the equation, and she told Talia as much.
But they’d known each other for almost their whole lives. Talia knew when Jessie was freaking out about her mom, or stressed about an exam she’d studied her butt off for. And she knew when Jessie was doing a terrible job of lying through her teeth.
“You have feelings for him. You don’t have to pretend to me that you don’t.”
“Fine,” Jessie said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s mutual. It’s like you’ve always said. Shawn doesn’t get attached.”
“He does now.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know I’ve never seen my brother this hung up on anyone. Or anything. I’ve never seen him care like this before. And I’ve never seen him so miserable when something doesn’t work out.”
“But he dumped me,” Jessie said. “Hard. And it wasn’t just because you came home. We’re too different, he and I. We wouldn’t have been able to make it last.”
“Shawn has made an art out of the fact that you can’t suck at something if you don’t try it in the first place. And that goes for relationships, too. I don’t think he stopped to think about what he was doing until he actually found himself lying on what’s officially the worst couch in the worst apartment in Brooklyn and realized he’d made a huge mistake.”
“So he regrets what happened because now he doesn’t have a bed to sleep in,” Jessie said.
Talia rolled her eyes. “Does everything have to be so negative? Can’t you believe that someone might actually love you?”
The word hung between them.
Love.
Jessie didn’t laugh this time. The weight of it was so heavy, she could barely breathe.
“Someone, maybe,” she said slowly, careful to sidestep that word. “But not Shawn. Not for me.”
“You’re the fucking worst!” Talia suddenly cried, leaping up from the foot of the bed.
“Why are you mad at me?” Jessie wanted to sob all over again—what had she done wrong this time?
“You’ve been my best friend for a million years, and you never look out for yourself. Of course I’m mad at you!” Talia was shouting, arms gesticulating wildly as she paced around the tiny room. “Can’t you for once just believe how amazing you are, and that you deserve the job you earned, and you deserve love, and you deserve someone you think is awesome also thinking you’re awesome, and that it’s not some fluke or a mistake when things go your way?”
Jessie stared, mouth hanging open in shock.
“Shawn’s not perfect,” Talia went on. “His feet stink like everybody else’s. But you know what? Even if he were perfect, even if he were never rash or impulsive and never made a single bad decision in his life, even if he were basically a living Adonis—he’d have every reason to love you. He’d be an idiot not to. And my brother may be stupid—he is my brother, after all.” Talia laughed. “But he’s not that stupid. He knows a good thing when he sees it. And he knows that you, Jessie Santana, are a Very. Good. Thing.”
Talia stopped pacing, a sudden, aching sadness all over her face. Her voice dropped, quiet and thick. “I’ll have you know that it makes me so fucking jealous, it’s hard to know what to do sometimes. I want to laugh with someone the way I saw you laughing with Shawn. I want someone to look at me the way he looks at you. I want to make a man so sick with love for me, he can’t get out of bed for three days. Fuck, Jessie. Do you have any idea how lucky you are? How hard it is to see you kick ass at everything you try—high school, college, grad school, landing this job at your dream company, while I’m scrambling around with my shit so not together?”
Wait—what?
Jessie began to protest. Talia was the one who made heads turn, while Jessie waited on the sidelines. She had this all wrong.
But Talia shook her head before Jessie could say anything. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s such an ugly side of me, petty and mean and horrible. I hate it. I shouldn’t even be saying any of this out loud. But Jessie, I can’t let you walk away from love. Because the only thing harder than seeing you always succeed is seeing you not believe in yourself and give up on something that should be yours. I can’t let you do that.”
Jessie blinked furiously, trying to hold in the tears. Nothing Talia was saying made any sense. Except for the one thing she couldn’t get out of her head. Love.
Did Shawn love her?
More importantly…did she love him?
“I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Talia said. “I’m done interfering in other people’s lives. But just—look up from your computer every once in a while and appreciate what you have, okay? Some of us would kill a baby panda with our bare hands to have what you’re so willing to throw away. I mean, not that I want my brother,” she added quickly. “And God, that was a really violent image. But you know what I mean.”
“I guess so,” Jessie said. “I don’t know. Yes? Maybe? This is all pretty new and overwhelming.” She took a deep breath. She could feel her heart pounding in a weird, new way, like it had never quite been beating before, and only now was it really about to start working.
“I might be too tired to make sense anymore,” Talia said with a sigh.
Jessie nodded. She was tired, too. And she still had so much work to do.
But maybe Talia was the one who had finally gotten it right, while Jessie had been spinning around inside herself, confused.
“Wait one sec,” she said as Talia headed out the door.
She got up and gave her friend the biggest bear hug she could muster, and she didn’t let go.
“I’m glad you interrupted,” she said as she hugged her. “I may not know what I’m doing, but I’m glad you’re here for me.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Shawn unpeeled himself from the couch.
Took a shower.
Put on what he was pretty sure counted as clean clothes.
He didn’t dare touch the swill in Brandon’s coffeepot. He was done treating himself like shit. This day called for real breakfast and coffee that hadn’t been sitting out for who knew how long. He had work to do.
It was early, but if he knew Jessie, then he was certain she’d been up for hours. He pulled out his phone to text her from the café on Brandon’s corner.
Hey, Jessie. Can we talk? I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I miss you and I—
Ugh. Delete, delete, delete. I miss you? Was that seriously the best he could do?
Saying he missed her was like calling a broken leg a scratch, or sticking his hand in boiling water and commenting that it was getting a bit warm. It didn’t come close to capturing the way he really felt, the way the ache inside him was devouring not just his heart but his lungs, his breath, his very being, so that he was hollow without her.
Not that he could write I love you with every ounce of my soul, every atom in my body, and I’ll do anything to make this right to a woman he’d broken up with via a pink sticky note on her pillow. She’d probably delete it, block his number, punch him in the nose, then block him again.
He wanted to write something that would tell her he was wrong, he was sorry, and would she please, please find a time to see him so he could tell her all of that and then some. But everything kept coming out wrong.
Jessie would know what to say. That was her job, to make the words come out right. She would never fuck up something this big.
But he wasn’t like her, and he kept getting stuck.
He got on the subway and headed to work without writing anything, still feeling completely inadequate. At least he knew one thing he had to do today. Thunder wasn’t open yet, but he was going to make sure he was there as soon as Jean showed up. He didn’t exactly have a list of brilliant ideas all planned out for fall beers that would put Thunder on the map. Not to mention that whole question of whether he still had a job left, anyway.
Wrong Bed, Right Roommate (Accidental Love) Page 18