Hate to Love You

by Isabelle Richards

  “Spencer and I both think you should tell them, but it’s completely self-serving.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Chase and I haven’t caused enough drama in your life? You need another train wreck for your entertainment?”

  She looks at the table, avoiding my eyes. “No… We think if it were all on the table, maybe he wouldn’t marry Jenna.”

  I slap the table top. “Oh, no! I’m not breaking up his wedding. Get that out of your head right now. He made his bed, and now he has to sleep with her in it. You want to bust up that relationship, you’re entirely on your own.”

  Thinking of Chase getting married makes me nauseated with a side of blinding fury. As much as I don’t want it to transpire, there’s no way in hell I’ll do anything to stop it. I won’t give him the satisfaction of thinking I still carry a torch for him. As far as he’s concerned, I’ve been over him since the day I left town.

  “He’s not happy with her, I can tell,” Charlie explains. “If he marries her, it’ll be a huge mistake. I’m not saying you two should get back together. He doesn’t deserve you after what he did, but he can’t marry her. He’ll regret it for the rest of his life.”

  “Me telling our parents wouldn’t change that. Most likely he’d end up grabbing her and flying to Vegas just to spite me. You’ll drive him right toward her. Have you tried talking to him about this? You’ve never held back from him before. Why start now?”

  She finishes her glass of wine. “He won’t entertain the conversation. He shuts me down before I can even start. Spencer too.”

  That’s odd. Chase is as stubborn as they come, but he would never back away from a fight. He’s so damn confident in his ability to persuade, he’s always positive he can talk people into seeing things his way. He’d rather have a knock-down, drag-out fight than let anything go. It has been two years. Perhaps he’s changed. Can I really say I still know him?

  I swirl my wine around. “I wish I knew what to tell you, but I know I’m not the answer.”

  Charlie takes the glass of wine out of my hand.

  “Hey. I was going to drink that,” I protest.

  “We both know you’re not. You never do. You swirl but never drink. You’ve just told me my brilliant plan to save my brother is a non-starter, so let’s drop the pretense and let me drink it now.”

  I nod in concession and pick up my almost-empty water. “Yeah, you’re right. I haven’t had a drink since your wedding.”

  “Thank God for that.” She winces. “What a disaster that was.” After a few moments, she says, “You know your mother always wanted the two of you to get together. She thought it was fate.”

  Using my late mother against me? That’s a bold move. “Well, she assumed we would grow out of the constant fighting. I think if she saw us now, she wouldn’t want that for me. She and Daddy were rose petals and romance all the time. Chase and I are thorns and toxic tantrums.”

  Charlie opens her mouth as if she’s going to retort, but she stops and takes another drink. “Look, I don’t know what you guys are like together, but I’ve seen the aftermath. Neither of you have been happy since you broke up. You both seem like shells of the people you used to be. I don’t know if getting back together is the answer, but I don’t think being apart is working out for you either.”

  I lean back and cross my arms. “This is a pointless conversation. He’s marrying someone else.”

  She smirks. “Look at your ring finger, sweetheart. So are you. Yet here you are realizing you’re still in love with him.”

  I scowl at her. “Not pulling any punches, are you? It’s not the same, and you know it.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Bullshit. It’s exactly the same.”

  I’m furious and would like to scream at her, but this isn’t the time or place. I lean forward to ensure I don’t raise my voice. “Two years, Charlie,” I say through gritted teeth. Two fucking years and not a word from him. Not even when my life was falling apart and I needed him most, when I would have been there for him, despite all the ways he broke my heart. There’s nothing left to salvage. He doesn’t care about me. He’s getting married and moving on. The fact that I can’t seem to get over him won’t change that. Hence the need for therapy.”

  She waves her hands in surrender. “Simmer down there, stabby. I’m not trying to piss you off; I’m just asking questions. And I’m a little drunk, so don’t take it to heart.”

  “On that note, I think we should go. I have to meet Daddy.” I throw some cash on the table to cover her wine and guide my staggering friend to my car. “I’ll bring you back tomorrow to get your car.” I open the door for her and help her in.

  “You have to take me to Chase’s,” she says with a guilty smirk.

  I recoil at the idea of going to his house. The house he bought after we broke up. Where he will live with his… wi… I can’t even think the word. “Charlie! No. I don’t want to go there. Can’t I take you home and Spencer can take you?”

  She shrugs as she struggles to put on her seatbelt. “Spencer’s at a meeting till later tonight. Chase’s expecting me. You got me drunk, so you have to take me there.”

  “Fine.” I slam the door and storm over to the driver’s side and slide in. “But don’t expect me to come in. Don’t even expect me to stop. I’ll just slow down, and you can jump out.”

  Before I make it to the freeway, Charlie’s fast asleep. I drive her home and get her into bed without too much protest.

  Chapter Five

  Chase

  “Chase? Chase, honey, are you almost done?”

  I’m doing my damnedest to block out Jenna, but she’s really making me work at it. Thank God I had the foresight to lock the bathroom door. She wants to have another sit-down about the wedding. Having done this about two dozen times since I proposed, I know what that means. She’ll bring out the gigantic godforsaken binders with every magazine picture of anything she has ever thought she might want at her wedding in them. She’ll talk in circles about things I couldn’t care less about. So like a pussy, I’m hiding in the shower, hoping she’ll get the sudden urge to go shopping or something. The water has long gone cold, but I can’t seem to will myself to get out.

  My phone blares Charlie’s ringtone, and I’m finally motivated to get out. She’s supposed to come over tonight and help me reel in Bridezilla. I honestly don’t know what I would do without my sister. She’s quite literally my other half, and she’s masterful at containing Jenna’s estrogen craze, something I’ve never had the patience to deal with.

  One would think having a twin sister and a mother I’m extremely close with would make me better at dealing with women, but I’m terrible at dealing with their crying and mind games and passive aggressive crap. I don’t like to go shopping, and I make no apologies for it. If a woman asks if her ass looks fat and it does, I’m going to tell her. That’s the relationship I have with the ladies in my family, and that’s all I know. But not all women like that kind of brutal honesty, and that’s where Charlie comes in.

  Without Charlie helping me navigate all of the female pitfalls, I probably would have been slapped a lot more and laid a lot less. How does any guy survive dating without a twin sister to save him? She claims if I chose a higher caliber of girl, these things would never be an issue, and of course she’s right. But that higher-caliber girl also put my heart through the shredder.

  By the time I dry off and get to the phone, I’ve missed Charlie’s call. I nearly drop my phone when I check the message.

  “Hey, Chase, Charlie won’t be coming over tonight. She met me and pounded two glasses of wine and fell asleep on the way to your house. I drove her home instead. She’s all tucked in for the night. Sorry I inadvertently screwed up your plans.”

  Coughing, I try to relieve the lump forming in my throat. That’s the first time I’ve heard her voice in a year—not counting the times I’ve seen her on ESPN. Those don’t count since I’m not watching to see her or anything. I just really like tennis. You can’t sp
end four years with someone and not get into their sport. Plus I met so many of the guys on tour that I need to keep up with how they’re doing. Watching tennis has nothing to do with her. Nothing at all.

  “What’s wrong, honey? You look pale. Are you getting sick?” Jenna asks in her always cheerful voice. She puts the back of her hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”

  “I’m fine,” I mutter before walking back to the bathroom. “Charlie’s sick. She can’t come over. Why don’t we postpone this wedding meeting till she can be here?”

  “No way, Buster. We’re talking about flower arrangements,” she says in a tone that lets me know she’s not bending.

  Ari used to call me Buster—Buster Hymen. Totally juvenile, but totally Arianna. One of the many signs she essentially grew up in a locker room. She’s such a contradiction: a high-maintenance princess dressed to the nines who tells dirty jokes and can throw a spiral better than most pro quarterbacks.

  I splash some water on my face. I will not start thinking of her again. I have no idea why she’s back in town, but I won’t allow her to get under my skin. I stare at myself in the mirror and internally repeat that phrase over and over until I’ve convinced myself I believe it.

  I avoid Jenna’s icy glare as I slip into my closet and throw on some workout gear. I can’t do this wedding shit right now. I can’t deal with it on a regular day, so I sure as hell can’t now. I need to get in the ring or lift until my arms fall off. Anything that will stop my mind from going down this all too familiar road to anguish and despair.

  I come out of the closet, and she frowns at my appearance. “Sorry, Jenna, I’ve really got to go to the gym. I need to push this back, okay?”

  She doesn’t disguise her disappointment. “But you just got out of the shower. Who goes to the gym after they shower?”

  “Professional athletes, that’s who. Pre-season is right around the corner. Come on, I’ll walk you out. We can talk about all this wedding stuff another time. I promise.” I put my hand on the small of her back and guide her downstairs.

  She’s asked me a million times why I don’t just have her move in. In her mind, it’s crazy for me to pay for her condo and my house. Knowing that I won’t have to come home to her talking about flower arrangements makes it worth every penny. I’m sure I’ll come around to the idea of us living together soon. Before the wedding, for sure.

  Until then, I want to appreciate my space. On the rare occasion I go to the condo, I’m hit with pastels and flowery prints. Her bedroom looks as if it was hosed down with Pepto and cotton candy. I’m not ready for that to take over my life and home. My house looks like a guy lives here. Greys, dark blues, and greens—manly colors. All my sofas recline, and my TV takes up a whole wall. The only pink thing in my house is the sponge in my kitchen sink, and that’s only because the store was out of the blue ones.

  She tries like hell to get me to change my mind about leaving. She even offers a blow job, which just tells me how desperate she must be. It’s not her favorite pastime. As tempting as it sounds, I doubt I’d be up for the task. My dick might cooperate, but my mind is elsewhere. Every word out of Jenna’s mouth is like nails on a chalkboard right now, and I can’t get my mind off that damn voicemail.

  Why the hell is Ari back? My world was nice and simple when she was on the other side of the globe. After breaking my heart into a million jagged pieces, she flew the coop and never returned. I foolishly thought that meant we had an unspoken understanding—I get the US, and she can have the rest of the damn world. Like with so many things with her, I was so very wrong.

  I eventually nudge Jenna out the door and wave good-bye. I close the heavy oak door, probably harder than I should. I should have kissed her, or at least given her a hug, but I just needed her out of here.

  I lock up and walk out to the garage. I squeeze by the Maserati that has been collecting dust. Every day I see it sitting there, it irks me. Why the hell I let Jenna talk me into buying it, I’ll never know. I’ve had it for six months and it only has forty-five miles on it. I’ve never been into sports cars. Sure, they’re fun to drive, but nine times out of ten, I’d rather be in my Ford. My mother grew up on a farm and raised me to be a country boy at heart. I’ve had Big Red since high school. I worked my ass off for her, but she’s mine.

  My father was signed by the Giants early in his career. Pop wanted to live downtown so he could be close to the stadium, but Mom wanted horses and land, so they built in Portolo Valley. Little did they know, thanks to Silicon Valley, it would become one of the wealthiest cities in the country. Mom was determined for us to grow up with values and solid work ethics, so unlike my classmates, I didn’t grow up with a staff waiting on me hand and foot. I had to muck stalls in our stables, wash cars, and mow the lawn. It sucked at the time, but looking back, I’m thankful I never had everything handed to me. I’m always the hardest working guy on the field, and I don’t take anything for granted. Success isn’t going to land on my doorstep; I need to seize it for myself.

  Luke Bryan is blaring when I turn the ignition. The great thing about country music is there’s a long list of songs about drinking, having a good time, and the evils of women. What do they call it now? Bro-country? With effort, I can entirely avoid songs about love and heartbreak. I stopped listening to those songs two years ago. Jenna’s been trying to get me to “broaden my musical tastes” so I can help pick music for the wedding—yet another conversation I keep pushing off.

  The song changes, and Jimmy Buffett plays through the speakers. Skip. Damn, I thought I’d erased all of his songs from my playlists. Buffett used to be my all-time favorite, until Ari ruined him for me. He was the only thing we could agree on. Arianna doesn’t look like a Parrot Head, but she just loves Jimmy Buffett. Our families would go to his concerts whenever and wherever we could, and those were the only days that she and I didn’t fight. Much.

  As I merge onto the freeway, my mind wanders to the last time we saw Buffett live together. We snuck away from the family, found a quiet secluded spot, and I plunged deep…

  No. I will not think about her. I will not glorify her by thinking about the good times. She’s a cruel, heartless bitch who causes me nothing but soul-crushing pain and despair. I tried taking Jenna with me once, to see if I could snuff out Ari’s memory and replace it with new ones, but it was like pouring lemon juice on a paper cut. I was an asshole to everyone that day, and they had no idea why. That’s the downside of having a secret relationship. Despite Charlie’s efforts, I’ve skipped every time the family has gone since.

  Speaking of Charlie, I should give Spencer a heads up. Charlie loves to drink, but she can’t hold her liquor. He’s in for a long night of hair holding. I dial his cell.

  “Spencer Fairchild.”

  “Spence, just letting you know that my sister is home drunk.”

  He groans. “Well, aren’t you the bearer of good news. I thought she was playing wedding mediator? Is the wedding planning so bad that she needed to get plastered?”

  I stop at a red light. “Nope, she never made it to my house. It seems she met up with Ari and never made it past the bar. Shocked the shit out of me. I had no idea Ari was even in town.” I can hear papers shuffling in the background. I bet Spencer’s packing up to rush home.

  “Well, why would you?” he replies.

  Right. Why would I? He has no idea about my relationship with Ari. From his perspective, we’re old adversaries who don’t even speak. Why would he talk to me about her? “I’m just surprised I hadn’t heard it from the fam. I guess she didn’t tell them she’s in town. I hope my mom doesn’t hear about it. It’ll break her heart.”

  “They know. We were all at your parents’ house last night,” he answers.

  I hear him cover the phone before he asks his assistant for a few files to take home. “Where was I?”

  The car behind me honks. The light turned green while I was learning that now that the bitch is back, I’m being excluded from my family. She’
s the one who left. She doesn’t get to storm back into town and just take over!

  “We didn’t call you because you made it clear that you don’t want to see her. She’s going through some stuff. She didn’t need to sit and bicker with you all night.”

  Great, more secrets. “What do you mean she’s going through some stuff? What’s going on?”

  “Dude, I don’t talk to her about you and your shit. I can’t talk to you about her.” Spencer doesn’t do drama. He sounds annoyed that I’m putting him in the middle. “If you’re so interested, why don’t you call her yourself?”

  “I’m your best friend. You can tell me—it’s, like, an exception. We don’t keep things from each other.” That is complete bullshit since I’ve never told him about Ari and me. But I don’t give a shit if I’m being a hypocrite. I want to know what the hell is going on.

  “You hate her. Why do you care?”

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think Spencer was torturing me on purpose. I can almost hear him smirking. I’m sure it’s just my guilty conscious at play though. I wish I could just tell him and clear the air between us, but how can I tell my best friend I lied to him for four years?

  I pull into the training facility and throw my truck into park. “I don’t care. Forget it. This is a stupid conversation. I’ve got to go.”

  “Hey, Giants game next week?” he asks. “It’s an interleague game with the Angels. Your sister is itching to go, and I can’t sit through watching her ogle that pitcher she’s infatuated with by myself.”

  “Yeah, baseball. Sure,” I say before I disconnect.

  Just one mention of Arianna, and she’s already invading my brain. She’s like a forest fire—one spark, and she’s become this blazing inferno consuming me. I can’t extinguish my thoughts of her. I need to get to the gym. Now!