King of the Friend Zone (Power of the Matchmaker)

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King of the Friend Zone (Power of the Matchmaker) Page 22

by Pratt, Sheralyn


  “Okay,” he agreed. “Hope to see you soon, Esme.”

  “You, too,” she said, then hung up and threw her phone on the bed.

  Every time she thought she and Jon had taken a step forward, Hunter’s name came up and they were suddenly taking ten steps back. Hunter didn’t even have to be around to screw up her love life, as it turned out. He simply had to exist.

  The realization was almost enough to get her to pick her phone back up and call Hunter on the spot and unload all of this on him…but, of course, she couldn’t do that. For a lot of reasons.

  Instead, she groaned and debated calling Grace.

  Again.

  Grace must have been getting sick of picking up phone these past few weeks, but Esme really needed to talk all this stuff out, because things were only going from bad to worse with Jon.

  Her frustrated fiancé may not understand what she did for a living, but the same skill set that she used at work every day wouldn’t let her hide from the fact that she and Jon were nose-diving into crisis territory. The difference was, for the first time in a long time, she didn’t know how to fix it.

  Chapter 43

  LUKE

  Luke:

  Found you a girl.

  Hot, single, ready to

  mingle.

  Hunter:

  And she knows the

  drill?

  Luke:

  Yep. She’s plenty bitter

  and all about using you

  too.

  She’s calling this

  OPERATION: JEALOUS X

  Hunter:

  Perfect. We doubling

  with u?

  Luke:

  Yeah. We’ll hit the game.

  I got tickets.

  Hunter:

  Perfect. I’ll pay you back.

  Luke:

  You’d better.

  Chapter 44

  After four days of radio silence from Jon, Esme wasn’t sure she’d see him at the airport when she flew in. She was mentally prepared to take an Uber home when she saw him waiting for her at the baggage claim.

  She hated that she felt more than a little self-conscious as his eyes moved over her.

  Yes, she’d gained weight on the trip. Even worse, she felt fat. She still hadn’t weighed herself, but she’d visibly put on weight since they’d last seen each other. Jon was a cosmetic surgeon. He had to see it, and Esme didn’t know which would be worse: having him mention it, or having him pretend to ignore it.

  Either way, she couldn’t just stand and stare at him all day. She needed to say hi.

  So she did.

  Pulling her suitcase behind her, Esme walked up to Jon and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Hey there, handsome.”

  “Hey, yourself,” he said, reaching for her bag. “Can I take that for you?”

  There was no need, but he was trying so Esme handed the luggage over.

  “How was your flight?” he asked as they started toward parking.

  “Good,” Esme replied. “First class, so I got to relax a bit.”

  “That’s nice.”

  Silence.

  Oh, man. This was bad. Awkward. And Esme still felt fat. Was Jon going to say anything about that?

  “Food on the east coast is dangerous,” she volunteered. “I think I put on about ten pounds while I was there.”

  He glanced her way. “Is that all? I’d guess closer to fifteen.”

  Esme thought she’d been ready for any reply, but apparently not. She hadn’t been expecting that, and all she could do in response was laugh. Then she laughed some more.

  Jon had the grace to blush. “That was the wrong thing to say, wasn’t it?”

  Esme nodded. “On a long list of wrong things to say, that probably goes on the top, yes.”

  “Sorry. Try again?”

  “Please,” Esme said as they started walking again.

  He cleared his throat, choosing his next words carefully. “Well then, if you could magically transport one of the meals you had in DC in front of us both tonight, what would we be eating?”

  “Mmm. Good question,” Esme said, giving it serious consideration. “I would have to say that it wouldn’t be from a restaurant in DC, but in Philadelphia.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Philadelphia? I’m intrigued. Go on.”

  “I’d take us to Talula’s Garden,” she said with a smile. “You’d love it. It’s all locally sourced and nothing’s overseasoned.”

  “You have my attention,” Jon said, flashing her one of the smiles she used to see so often, but not so much anymore.

  “The décor is whimsical without being overpowering and the atmosphere on the cozy side of intimate.”

  “So far so good,” he said as automatic doors opened to let them exit out of the main airport.

  “The meal would begin with an amuse-bouche of perfectly round rolls of brioche filled with a pesto cream that melts the moment it hits your tongue.”

  “Keep going,” he said and Esme felt a ping of hope that a conversation could finally go well between them again.

  “This would be followed by a decadent salad of ricotta, spooned and swirled on a plate, and topped with the most perfect peaches to ever touch your taste buds. All this is resting on a mix of arugula and micro-greens, glazed ever-so-lightly with vinaigrette. With eat bite, you’ll encounter the pleasant texture of crushed wafer crisps while noting that the sweet-and-sour black sauce rounds out the salad perfectly.”

  “Mmm,” Jon purred, getting into it. “It sounds excellent.”

  “Trust me,” she said, smiling up at him. “It is.”

  “Go on,” he said, sliding his hand into hers.

  This. This was the language they spoke so fluently together. This was where they were good, so she went with it as she continued to describe the meal she would share with him.

  “The main course I’m about to suggest may sound pedestrian, but bear with me. I promise it’s special.”

  “I believe you,” he said, giving her hand a little squeeze.

  She ignored the sarcastic comment on the tip of her tongue that at least he believed her about something before swallowing it back and continuing.

  “For the main course, we’d order the seared salmon. The portion is smaller than you might hope for, but what you are about to put into your mouth you will remember for the rest of your life.”

  Jon laughed as they moved into the parking structure. “That’s a lot to ask of a salmon.”

  “I know. But prepare yourself. All your palate points are about to be met, because when the salmon comes, it’s served with freshly harvested beets, roots left on and roasted until fork-tender. These succulent jewels taste like the earth with all the soil washed away. They’re accented with greens tossed in vinaigrette with a dollop of pickled, pureed horseradish that all come together in a perfectly seasoned bite.”

  Jon nodded thoughtfully. “I would say that salmon definitely died for a cause.”

  “Indeed,” Esme agreed, growing hungry at the memory. “And for dessert, you can do wrong. I, personally, chose the dipping donuts to sample each of the house sauces, which were divine. But I’m certain such could be said for all of the dessert selections.”

  “That does sound like a superior culinary experience,” Jon said as they approached his SUV.

  “Trust me,” Esme gushed. “It was.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Then it was suddenly awkward again, and she wished she knew why. They’d been doing so well.

  Esme let the silence hang over them as Jon opened the back of his SUV and loaded in her luggage. But when they got in the front, she rested her hand on his when he moved to start the car.

  “Can we talk for a minute?” she asked. “Before you start driving and have an excuse not to look at me?”

  “Okay,” he said, dropping his hand away from the steering wheel. “What’s on your mind?”

  Esme took a calming breath, deciding that if things were going to feel awkward, she m
ight as well step in with both feet. “This trip kind of exposed some of the vulnerabilities in our relationship, wouldn’t you say?”

  Jon hesitated, then nodded. “I would agree with that.”

  That was a good start. “What did you notice as a problem?”

  Even without driving as an excuse, Jon still seemed to want to avoid looking at her. “You’re more comfortable without me than I thought you’d be. I was expecting more texts and calls throughout the day…maybe some—” he cleared his throat. “—picture texts, too.”

  Esme blinked a few times, processing that. “I’ve never been the kind of woman to send pictures like that, Jon.”

  “That’s okay,” he said quickly. “I just thought you would miss me more, and it made me uneasy when you didn’t.”

  “Okay,” Esme said. “I’ll try to take that into account moving forward.”

  Jon looked up. “Now let me flip the question back to you. What problems did you notice?”

  Here it was. The dangerous question with the even more dangerous answer she had to say out loud if she and Jon were to have a chance.

  “What I noticed was that while you may not like Hunter and be highly suspect of our friendship, you’ve never really been with me without Hunter in the picture.” This time, she was the one to look away. “Back before you met him, it wasn’t like he didn’t exist. He did. And he and I talked every day. We texted every day. He was even the driving force behind me being ten-ish pounds lighter than I am right now. Without him competing with me every day, I’m not very motivated to stay active.”

  To Esme’s surprise, Jon didn’t have an angry knee-jerk response to that. Instead he looked thoughtful and nodded his head. “I can relate to that, I guess. I pay a lot more attention to my stock investments because my sister and I always try to be the one to be able to brag that we’ve made the most in the market every time we get together.”

  “Exactly,” Esme said, clinging to the parallel like a lifeline. “If your sister is doing better than you, then you’re more motivated. If you’re doing better, then you taunt her and that’s part of your relationship.”

  “Yeah,” Jon agreed.

  “So while I love food, I can promise you that I wouldn’t have gained as much weight these past weeks if I’d seen Hunter’s step count the entire time I was in DC. That would have gotten my butt on the hotel treadmill. And yes, I have about two dozen other friends on FitBit, but none of them have really stuck it out as accountability buddies. Only Hunter has, and that’s one of the many things that has changed at my life since I’ve cut off communication with him.”

  Jon nodded. “I can see how that will take some adjusting for you.”

  Esme breathed a sigh of relief at the response. He wasn’t fighting her. After all the conversations over the phone, she’d been expecting this conversation to go much, much worse. But it wasn’t. Thank heaven for small favors.

  “We’re engaged and I don’t want that to change,” Esme said. “But we’ve also only known each other six months and we’re still getting to know each other. Would you agree with that?”

  “I would,” he said softly.

  “So let’s get back to basics a bit” she said, leaning in. “I think we know what we have in common, but don’t necessarily know what each other needs. So I’m asking you, Jon, what do you need from me? What’s something you’ve been needing from me that you haven’t been getting enough of?”

  “I…”

  “Yeah?” Esme prompted.

  “I wish you complimented me more,” he confessed. “I have a lot of women kissing up to me all day and I have no problem shutting them down. It’s just nice to know that I’m doing it for a woman who likes to be equally vocal about being attracted to me.”

  Esme nodded, biting back the touch of annoyance at his casual mention of other female admirers. “I can do that.”

  He sent her a lopsided smile. “I’d really like that.” He wrapped both his hands around hers before pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “What about you? What do you need?”

  I need you to not look at me differently if I put on ten pounds.

  I need you to make me laugh when I’m stressing out.

  I need to be able to argue with you without feeling like every disagreement is the beginning of the end.

  I need you to be my accountability buddy when I make goals.

  I need you to be nice to my friends—not cordial—but genuinely kind.

  I need you to not talk about other women’s breasts if they bring them up in a conversation and ask for your opinion.

  I need you to put your phone on silent when we’re together.

  I need you to just hang out sometimes…no task to be done or activity to distract us. Just us. Snuggling. With the TV on or something.

  “I want you to learn more about my job,” she said. “It’s how I earn my living and I’m good at it. I just saved a company from going belly up while keeping a CEO in place when he definitely should have been fired. Yet I can tell when you introduce me to people that you don’t really understand what I do and why companies pay me to do it.”

  “I get what you do,” he said with a smile. “You help companies when they step in it.”

  “Yes,” Esme agreed. “But I do more than that, and it matters.”

  His eyes narrowed in thought. “So you’re saying that’s something Hunter did that I’m not doing? Understand your job?”

  “Definitely,” Esme said, forgetting to sugar coat it. “Anytime I needed a sounding board about something, I called Hunter. That was one of his roles in my life.”

  “Well, now I can be that sounding board,” Jon said with confidence. “You’ve got a medical doctor providing feedback instead of a fireman. I’d call that an upgrade.”

  Esme smiled and bit her tongue, not mentioning that there was a difference between being book-smart and socially smart. Hunter may not have read a book in the past decade, but he understood public opinion. He could push and un-push a button within the same breath. Nothing about Jon was an upgrade in this particular situation, but Esme didn’t need to say that out loud. Sounding boards worked just as well when they were bouncing back bad ideas. After hearing bad ideas, you knew what not to do. That was helpful, too.

  “So,” Jon said. “Want to give me a tour of your office when we get to your place and walk me through one of your days?”

  Esme nodded. It was a start. “Sure. And Jon?”

  “Yeah.”

  Esme reached up and ran a finger down his tie. “I really love this color on you. Your eyes look amazing.”

  Jon beamed before leaning in to press a kiss to her lips. “Thanks, beautiful.”

  The kiss they shared may have been short, but it was a start.

  Chapter 45

  It felt good to be home. Esme didn’t mind traveling, but there was something about being back in her own nest with her computer, TVs, treadmill, hot tub, and view of the bay. She had also been re-introduced to her scale, which hadn’t been her happiest reunion.

  Fourteen pounds. Upping the amount of weight Esme had gained in just under three weeks may not have been the smartest move on Jon’s part, but he hadn’t been wrong.

  Four. Teen. Pounds.

  How in the world had she managed to do that?

  She stepped on her treadmill, ready to step out her usual 5,000 steps only to gas out after 3,000. Promising to finish the rest later, Esme sat at her computer and started her usual morning routine of checking in with her clients and how they compared to their closest competition. When she spotted news stories, she checked the comments, Tumblr, Reddit, and Facebook to see if they were getting any traction before compiling her reports and making her recommendations.

  The routine felt like an old friend.

  The icon at the top of her Facebook page showed that she had 99+ notifications, which made sense since she hadn’t checked it the entire time she was in DC. To make the bubble disappear, she quickly clicked on it and scrolled through the
notifications until her hand froze.

  Hunter had been posting on Facebook. A lot. And a lot of people had been commenting on his posts.

  She hesitated before clicking. Jon didn’t want her have contact with Hunter, but lurking wasn’t exactly contact. Plus, she wanted to see how her friend was doing.

  Five minutes later, she had her answer. Hunter was doing fine. Just fine.

  Esme stared at the blonde tucked under his arm in one of his more recent pictures. It was the same blonde he was cheek-to-cheek with in his profile picture. They looked happy.

  Really happy.

  “Good,” Esme muttered as she clicked the link to his photos and checked the tags.

  Tanya Rasmussen. That was her name. And she and Hunter had been busy. They’d gone paddle boarding at the beach, visited museums, and even done a movie in the park.

  Esme knew Hunter well enough to know that the smile in his pictures wasn’t forced, and Tanya looked over the moon.

  “Good,” she repeated, even though part of her felt like she was going to be sick.

  Uneasy stomach aside, Esme clicked through the images Hunter had posted over the past two weeks, pausing on a picture of Hunter and Luke on a double date at a Giants game.

  Luke had met Tanya? There were no rules against her contacting Luke. All she wanted to know was whether Hunter really was doing well or not. Based on the pictures, he definitely looked well, but Luke would know for sure. One thing was for sure, he hadn’t put on fifteen pounds like she had. If anything, he was more cut. The picture of Hunter paddle boarding wearing nothing more than a pair of board shorts was…something she shouldn’t think about too long.

  Still, it wouldn’t be crossing the line to find out what Luke thought of this Tanya girl. Picking up her phone, she shot him off a text.

  Esme:

  So…Tanya?

  He actually responded in less than a minute.

 

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