Hate to Love You

by Isabelle Richards

  She rolls her eyes and smiles. She knows it’s true. She straightens my blankets. “So… you want to talk about what happened?”

  I wriggle my free leg and mess up her work. I can’t stand to feel even more confined than I already do. “There’s not much to talk about. I pushed too hard. The rest is really obvious, isn’t it? I don’t even remember talking to you, but I’m so glad you answered. Otherwise I might still be on the floor of my kitchen. Was I even coherent?”

  She looks at the floor and pulls at a loose thread on her skirt. “Um… It wasn’t me that answered the phone.”

  “Oh. Spencer is such a trooper. I should be embarrassed, but I’ve seen him in enough compromising situations over the years. I guess it’s my turn to be the one babbling incoherently. Remember that time he called me when you guys went to Amsterdam and took god only knows what and he kept calling me his little bubala?”

  “It wasn’t Spencer.”

  The anesthesia is still swirling in my brain, but one plus one is adding up. “No, no, no, no, no.”

  “I was in class, and I gave him my phone in case you called. I didn’t want you to be without a lifeline, but I never expected this was the lifeline you would need.”

  “So you left your brother in charge of me? On the anniversary of my mother’s death? Your brother who hasn’t said one word to me in months? Your brother who I hate with every cell in my body? You thought that was a good idea?”

  She sits on the edge of my bed. I don’t see regret in her eyes. “I hear you, and I know you’re mad at him with good reason. But we both know if you needed someone, there’s no one better for you than Chase. I know you don’t remember it, but from what he said, he talked to you until the medevac got there. Sounds like you were in so much pain you were really out of it. It’s thanks to him that they got there as fast as they did. He got on the other phone and screamed at people until they found you.”

  Feeling exposed, I pull the blankets up around me. “Fine. He did a good deed. It doesn’t absolve him of anything.”

  “I know he cares about you Ari.”

  “Has he called to see what happened after I was medevaced? Has he checked in to see how the surgery went? Sent flowers? Anything? Has he even asked you how I’m doing?”

  She doesn’t answer, and that’s all the answer I need.

  Chapter Twenty- Five

  Arianna

  The only perk of being retired is that I get to go to all sorts of events I would have missed if I was still playing. I started touring, in one form or another, when I was thirteen. I missed birthdays, anniversaries, more special events than I can count, and virtually everything important to Charlie.

  She’s dabbled in a million things that were important to her for about thirty seconds. Ballet, gymnastics, flute, painting, the list goes on and on. She’s the type of person who picks up everything easily and excels at it. Most people don’t recognize that because she moves onto the next thing so quickly. I always managed to be around for Chase’s games, but I could never get home for any of Charlie’s events; it’s a fact that’s always eaten away at me. Today, that changes.

  Her instillation is in a swanky gallery just off the water. From what I gleaned from their website, they’ve hosted a number of influential artists and showcased a range of mediums. Charlie is so talented that I’m not surprised they see her work as professional caliber. The gallery is packed full of patrons decked out in couture cocktail dresses and high end suits. It’s like a walk down memory lane full of old family friends and people from high school, from the country club, and from the sports world. Charlie may have always been in Chase’s shadow, but she won everyone’s heart, and they’re all here to support her.

  I spot Charlie standing with the mayor of Carmel and some D-list actress who’s trying to date his son. Charlie looks miserable, so I grab a glass of champagne and say, “Can I steal the artist for a moment? Thanks!”

  She hugs me. “Thank you! That was so awkward. That hussy is trying to get her hooks in his family. Son, brother, father, she doesn’t care; she’ll take whichever one she can get.”

  I hook my arm through hers and pull her to the side of the room. “Forget them and their made-for-TV drama. I’m so proud of you! This place looks amazing. You have a great turn out.”

  She gestures for us to walk through the exhibit. The gallery is crammed with wall to wall people, but we’re able to weave through the crowd. “I’d tell you to try the champagne, but we both know you’re just going to hold it. Have you had a chance to look around yet? Don’t be surprised you’re in, like, half of them.”

  “Great. More pictures of a washed-up has-been—just what the world needs.” She punches my arm. Hard. “Ow!” I say rubbing the spot. “That’s going to bruise.”

  “Don’t say shit like that. You will never be washed up. For your information, most of them have already sold.”

  I roll my eyes. “To my father, right? That doesn’t count.”

  “Some, not all.” She looks up as though she’s trying to recall them all and counts the people on her fingers. “The guy from ESPN who’s in love with you bought one. Mark Jennings, the guy who had that insane crush on you in high school, bought one. Lachlan emailed an offer in. I think he still has a thing for you. Lawrence bought one.”

  “Ah, so my father, my old coaches, and people who are stalking me. That’s even better.”

  She grabs a stuffed mushroom from a passing tray. “The best one went to an anonymous buyer.”

  “Henrik?” I ask.

  Popping the appetizer in her mouth, she shakes her head. “Nope. I emailed Henrik the proofs this morning, but he hasn’t gotten back to me yet. I got a call from a broker who said the buyer would pay above asking price, but he insisted on remaining anonymous.”

  “Above asking price, huh? Sounds like Spencer trying to be sneaky. I’ll bet you a thousand dollars my dad gets it as a gift for Christmas or you find it in some back part of his offices.”

  Charlie scoffs. “It’s not Spencer, I assure you. He flipped when he saw the catering bill. He’s not forking over another dime.”

  For Spencer to put his foot down, the bill must be astronomical. I wince at the thought. “How bad?”

  She looks down and bites her lip. “Cristal, foie gras, and beluga bad. That’s why I said you should drink the champagne.” She shrugs and flashes an innocent grin. “It’s bought and paid for!”

  Spying the food on the waiters’ platters, I can see she’s not exaggerating. This little event is costing a small fortune. “No wonder he’s pissed. I’m pissed for him.”

  “It all worked out. We had crazy, angry sex and all was forgotten.”

  I smirk. “Angry sex is the best. It was the foundation of my relationship with… never mind. I should go look around, and you should mingle.”

  She pulls my arm, stopping me from walking away. “Oh no, you can’t start that and not finish it.”

  I give her a curious look. “No. Not going there.”

  She pouts and stomps her foot. “Come on! I’m going to have boring, stuffy conversations all night. I need something smutty to think about.”

  Putting my arm through hers, I pull her into an alcove, out of ear shot from the crowd. “Well, it was the best part of our relationship. I swear he used to pick fights just for the angry sex. He’d always do it when we were with people. He’d push a button he knew would piss me off, or he’d start making digs that he didn’t really mean but knew would get under my skin. The fights would get downright nasty. The next thing I knew, we’d be in the pantry, or the garage, or the bathroom going at it like animals. Quick and oh, so dirty.”

  She scrunches her face, looking confused. “That’s funny. I don’t remember you and Henrik fighting at all. Like ever. And I thought you said the sex was terrible.”

  “Not Henrik.”

  She covers her eyes. “No! You aren’t supposed to tell me stories about that! Now I have images running through my mind that I should never, ever, eve
r think about.”

  “You asked!”

  Her jaw drops. “In the pantry?” She says the words as though they taste foul on her tongue. “My parents’ pantry? Where I keep my cereal and Power Bars? I’m never eating anything out of there again. Lucky Charms may be ruined for me forever.”

  I wink. “It was magically delicious!” I lean in closer. “I guess you don’t want to hear about the places we’ve done it in your house. Let’s just say you wouldn’t look at your laundry room the same again. Gives new meaning to ‘front loader.’”

  She shivers. “I hate you right now. You are a deplorable bitch.”

  “Wow, I really shouldn’t tell you about the pool house then.”

  She covers her ears. “Stop. I can’t take it.”

  “Yup, every night after we went for our run. Sometimes, I’d just text him ‘POOLHOUSE’ and we’d meet there. We didn’t even need to say a word. We’d meet and just go at it like savages. Ah, good times.”

  “I used to have sex in the pool house! Now you’ve ruined it for me! I’m leaving and never talking to you again.”

  I grab her arm before she can walk away. “Wait a sec. Serious, for a second. I haven’t heard from you since you learned the big news about Jenna. Is she here?” I feel a frown overtake my face.

  She grabs some champagne from a passing tray. “False alarm, I guess. I was out at a bar with some friends about a week later and saw Jenna with her sorority bitches. She was totally blatto with no signs of letting up, so I’m guessing there’s no bun in that oven. He’s never said anything to me about it, and I’m not going to bring it up. I guess that’s where we are now. We keep things from each other.”

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a least a little bit relieved.

  Before I get a chance to respond, she says, “Oh, there’s Taj Fontane. I’ve got to catch him. I need him to sign my shots of him surfing. I’ll catch you later.” She air kisses me and runs off.

  The room is full of people I know, but I’m not really in the mood for mindless small talk. I check out the art and avoid making eye contact. Her pictures are amazing. Charlie is so talented. She’s able to capture the raw emotion of her subjects, especially Chase. He looks so driven, determined, and ridiculously hot. I might have to buy one or two of these myself. Anonymously, of course.

  She wasn’t kidding; there are a ton of me. Some even go all the way back to high school. God, I was so young and cocky. If that girl only knew the way it would play out…

  The last photo in the collection sucks the air out of my lungs. It was taken right before I announced my retirement. No one but me would be able to tell. I’m not crying, but I look defeated. I was sitting in a stairwell, and I had no idea she took it. How could she? She took one of the worst moments in my life and splattered it on a wall for the whole world to see. For someone to buy and hang in their living room. Looks like Chase isn’t the only Brennan capable of betrayal.

  Armani Code floods my nose, and every muscle in my body tightens.

  “Looks like the ice princess can actually feel emotion. Let me guess, you broke a nail? You got caught wearing something from last season? Or worse yet, split ends?”

  Do not take the bait. Do not take the bait. I turn and point down hall. “I think you made a wrong turn. The Chase Ego wall is in the other room.”

  He looks over his shoulder toward the photos of him. “Oh, I’ve seen it. They’re selling like hotcakes from what I hear.”

  I try to walk to the next batch of photos, wanting to put some distance between us, but the room is packed. I’m trapped. “Did you buy them? I could see you putting them up all over your bedroom so you can fall asleep staring at the only person you’ve ever truly loved.”

  “Well, I am real selective with who I give my love to. As you know. Or wouldn’t, as the case may be.”

  Typical Chase. A sucker punch thrown as hard as he can.

  “Oh, was that supposed to be a burn?” I mock. “All you do is prove how right I was about you. You know how I love to be right, so thanks for that. Keep being an asshole. I get off on it.”

  He smirks and points at the retirement photo. “I think I should buy this one. A shot of the one time Arianna Aldrich showed something other than a pre-packaged, PR-approved expression void of any real emotion. This is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. It’s like finding a unicorn.”

  I want to slap that smug look clear across the room. A slap isn’t enough—I want to punch him, pummel him into the ground. But I refuse to make a scene. “You didn’t care about it when it was happening. Why would you waste money on it now?”

  I turn around and fight the crowd until I can finally walk out the door. I’m done with this event. I’m done with all of them. I hate that he can still hurt me. I hate even more that I still love him. I hate the most that fighting with him still turns me on.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  September 2011

  San Francisco, CA

  Arianna

  One week of downtime. That was all I asked for. Seems like a simple request, but did I get it? No. Last week, I won my first Grand Slam. I did five days of press tours and events. I told my agent I needed a week at home before I went back on tour. My plan was actually to hole up in my newly purchased condo with Chase, only coming up for air to answer the door for the delivery guy.

  In the past two months, we’ve barely seen each other. He came with the family to the US Open to see me win the Grand Slam, but we never got a moment alone. My coach, agent, and father were stuck to me like glue. Peeing alone was a privilege. To make matters worse, Katie kept trying to set him up with the rep from Babolat. It pissed me off so badly, I had my agent sic the rep on someone else just so she would stop throwing herself at Chase. Being so close to him but having to keep so far away killed me. The only thing that got me through was thinking about seven blissful days of sex and Arinell’s Pizza.

  That plan crashed and burned. Since Chase took time off school to come to see me at the US Open, he’s behind in his classes. I’m sure his teachers would give him a little leeway because he’s the quarterback, but he’s too damn stubborn for that. It’s a quality I typically appreciate, but right now, it’s driving me crazy. On top of that, they’ve got their biggest game of the season against USC this weekend. Daddy’s got Chase practicing or watching film all the damn time. He doesn’t have time to drive into the city to my condo. Despite my suggestion that he live alone, Chase lives with three roommates, so his place is off limits. I even offered to pay for a solo apartment for him, but he blew up at me. Something about emasculating him and trying to deprive him of the college experience. The only reason I relented was because I knew that having a whole place to himself would end up backfiring on me during our off-again periods. At least with roommates, he has to keep it somewhat controlled.

  Then my agent hijacked my week off by committing me to radio spots and endorsement meetings. I haven’t had any time to relax. I have to fly to Hong Kong tomorrow, and I’m pissed beyond belief that my week of bliss was stolen and replaced with a week of epic disappointment. I should have just gone back to work.

  I haven’t gotten to see Charlie all week either. Freaking college. To make it up to me, she planned a night in with promises of Katie’s ribs. It was a great plan until a transistor blew and the whole neighborhood blacked out. So now we’re playing board games by lantern light.

  I slam my water on the coffee table. “Are you kidding me? You’re telling me that the Penguin is Batman’s prime adversary? The Joker killed his parents! How much more adversarial can you get? I call bullshit!”

  Chase flips around the Trivial Pursuit card. “The card says ‘The Penguin.’ Not sure what you want me to do about it. The answer on the card stands. Rules are rules, Blondie. Deal with it.”

  The game is a dead heat. Chase and I both have five pieces and are desperate to capture that elusive last piece. There is serious pride on the line, and I’m not about to go down because the stupid makers of this game do
n’t know their superheroes.

  “Fine. I’ll still win. I’m not worried.” I hand the dice to Spencer. “It’s your turn.”

  The lights flicker back on.

  “Oh, looks like PG&E came through,” Charlie says.

  Chase, Spencer, and I throw pillows at her as the lights flick right back off. “You jinxed it!” we scream.

  When Chase is up, I grab the box of questions from Charlie. “I’ve got this one.” I pull a card out and smile. “What’s heavier: a softball or a baseball?”

  “That’s easy. A softball.”

  “I’m sorry, the answer is baseball. Rules are rules.” The card is wrong. I know for a fact it’s wrong, but I’m going to have fun busting his balls about it. Karma’s such a bitch.

  He snatches the card. “This is bullshit, and you know it. Pop?” he calls. “Tell them a softball is heavier than a baseball.”

  “Mom and Pop went out to dinner when the power went out,” Charlie answers.

  “Just because it’s bigger in circumference doesn’t make it heavier,” I say. “I think you’re just being narrow-minded. Physics was never really your strongest class.”

  “I got an A in physics last semester. At Stanford. Where I’ve got a 4.0. What’s your GPA again? Oh, that’s right, you never finished high school. I was valedictorian.”

  Oh, that’s low. He loves to throw that in my face. “I did graduate, and you know it. And you were only valedictorian because I went pro. If you recall, that B in chemistry always kept you right were you belong—behind me. And we both know you cheated off me to get that B. Regardless of all that, the card says baseball. You. Are. Wrong.”

  “The card is bullshit!” he shouts.

  “Stop being a crybaby!”

  “Jesus, guys. It’s just a game. Do we really have to dig all this up?” Charlie asks.

  “Every time, the two of you get like this,” Spencer says under his breath. He points at Charlie. “This is why we stopped playing board games.”

  Charlie sticks out her hand. “Come on, Chase, just hand me the dice.”