“I need another drink for this. Do you want one?” I bypassed him in the entryway to grab the bottle from the counter.
“Oh, I think it’s best if we’re both sober for this.”
“For what?” I spun around, suddenly frustrated with the way both Bryce and Sam found it so easy to get angry at me for being emotional. As if I were a child who needed talking to. What was it, National Hate on London Day? “Why do you seem so . . . so angry, huh?”
He ran his hand through his hair and expelled a profound huff. “I’m not angry.” His hand traveled from the top of his messy locks to the back of his neck, where he kneaded the thick muscle. “I’m—”
“Confused?” I finished for him, wondering if his feelings mirrored mine.
I was certain they did when he lifted his head and his eyes sought me out with a knowing look. “Yeah, you could say that.”
He stalked closer.
I filled my glass and took another from the cabinet to offer one to him. When we were eye to eye with the liquid courage in hand, I took a large gulp.
“What was that all about back there?”
Questioning his question would be childish. There were no games to play here. Not with him. He knew me too well. He’d registered my jealousy as if I wore it like a flashing neon sign across my chest. I had to be honest, both for him and myself.
“I don’t know.” It was the God’s honest truth. “I don’t know why I reacted that way, but I do know it wasn’t something I expected. It came out of nowhere and I’m not sure . . . I don’t know what the fuck to do with it, Sam!”
He breathed through his nose, paused, and then knocked back the entire contents of his glass. Slamming it down on the countertop, somehow not shattering it, he stared at the ticking cuckoo clock.
When he had nothing to say in response to my admission, I grew impatient. “What? No snarky response? No quick-witted comeback, Sam the Man? All of a sudden the cat’s got your tongue?”
“What do you want me to say!” he shouted, causing me to startle. “I can’t make you see something you’re too blind to see, London. I can’t force you to choose me!”
Whoa. Choose him? What is he talking about?
“Choose you? What are you . . . I’m with Bryce. You were on a date with Miss Pink Lips. Seems like all the choices have been made, buddy.”
“Don’t play with me!” He paced the kitchen, his hands back in his hair. “Bryce, the doctor in shining armor. All of a sudden he’s the answer to everything. And the simple fact you’re insulting Patricia proves my point. Not that it matters anyway. She’s not the issue here, sweetheart. I only asked her to go out of convenience. I couldn’t even bring myself to kiss her, not that she wasn’t practically begging me to fuck her.”
“Now, look who’s playing games. Why are you taunting me?”
“Ha!” He darted a look of disdain from across the room. “You should know a thing or two about taunting.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, please, London. Like you don’t know. Like it’s not clear . . .” He paused before finishing the thought, only to sprint back over to me so we were inches apart. “Do you love him?”
“Bryce?”
He nodded with flared nostrils.
“No!” I laughed. I had strong feelings for him. I liked him a lot. But love was a strong and sacred emotion that would take time to build. Time Bryce and I had not yet been given. “We haven’t been together that long. How could you ask that? I’m still struggling with the . . .” I still stumbled on the word.
“Divorce, London. Say it. Divorce. You and Hunter are divorced.”
The tip of my nose tingled with imminent tears. “Why are you doing this? Why are you being so mean?”
“Because I’m fucking tired. I’m tired of watching you love someone else. First Hunter, now Bryce. I’ve stood on the sidelines for so long, I’d given up on ever being part of the team. I got used to stifling my feelings. I pretended they didn’t exist. And then . . . and then I saw how you acted tonight and something inside me—that tiny, lost, flicker of hope—sparked back up.” I could smell the wine on his breath now, the citrusy scent mixed with cotton candy from the carnival and cinnamon from his favorite gum. He was that close. So near I heard his heart beating wildly, sensed the heat radiating off him. “I want to know what you felt tonight. I want you to tell me what you felt when you saw me with her. Because I could see it. I bet your boyfriend did, too, but I want to hear it from you, London. I want to know for once and for all that I’m not fucking crazy.”
I shook my head, refusing to feed into this. He was fucking crazy. He was being irrational. Sitting on the sidelines? Tired of watching me love someone else? Choose him? This was all too much to wrap my head around. Where was this coming from? Where was my best friend? When had all of this happened?
“Tell me,” he begged. “I’ve kept enough secrets from you for the both of us. And there aren’t supposed to be any between us. I’ve broken that pact, remember the one we made when we were kids? Well, I fucked up, but you’ve always been the rule follower. I’ve always been able to count on you. So, tell me, London. Tell me how you felt tonight so I can stop wracking my brain, wondering, waiting, hoping.”
“It hurt! I was jealous!” It was a liberating eruption. I clenched and unclenched my fists, taking in a deep breath. “Are you happy now, Sam? I was jealous. I didn’t like it and I don’t know why because I’ve never felt that way before and I shouldn’t’ve felt that way, either. You’re my best friend and I’m dating Bryce. Maybe that sounds irrelevant to you, but it’s not. He’s a good man and I can’t toy with his emotions.”
“But you can fucking toy with mine?” For a slight second when I was admitting how I felt when I saw him with Patricia, Sam’s expression had softened. But at the mention of Bryce, his anger was back, full force. He slammed his hands down on the countertop and yelled, “You’re infuriating!”
“No, I’m confused.” I pitched forward, standing my ground. “I’ve dealt with so many life changes this year and you know how much I hate change. I’ve been going through a lot. Too much for one person, or maybe just too much for me. And you were gone. When I needed you most, you weren’t here.”
“I was away for work! I couldn’t change that!”
“I’m not blaming you.” I lowered my voice and brought my hand to my chest. “I would never blame you or hold it against you. I’m just painting the picture for you, Sam. You weren’t here and then I met Bryce.”
“And now I’m back, so forget about Bryce.” He flippantly threw his hands in the air, as if forgetting about Bryce would be so easy. For a split second, I thought about it. But then I remembered everything he’d done for me and Mom. He was her doctor. I liked him. A lot. Enough to take our relationship to the next level. He was the only other man I’d been with besides Hunter. That said something. He meant something to me.
Sam did too, but I had no idea if those feelings went beyond friendship. I was still figuring that out. This was all so different, so unexpected, so new.
“Sam.” I looked down at my bare feet, summoning the nerve to ask what needed to be asked. When I dragged my gaze back up to him, he was waiting as if on bated breath, as if he knew what was coming. I gulped the nerves away and took the leap of faith. “Where is all of this coming from? Why now?”
Sam thrust forward, grabbing my face in his hands. The sudden contact caused me to gasp, my breath trapped inside my throat. Was he going to hurt me? Kiss me? This was all so intense. I couldn’t breathe.
“Not now. Always. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want you for myself, London. While this may be new for you, it’s been years of agony for me, and I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to lose you; our friendship means more than anything in this world. But I want more than just your friendship.”
My God. My heart was pounding against my ribcage, threatening to break free. White hot heat coated every inch of my skin, my bloodstream absorbin
g the warmth, yet I was trembling beneath his grasp. How had I not seen this before? I had no idea Sam felt this way. What was I supposed to do now? I couldn’t think clearly enough to form a sentence, let alone make a move.
He released his hold on my face and dropped his hands to his sides. I backed against the countertop and clutched the edge behind me. I needed to hold on to something because right now everything around me seemed to be spinning out of control.
“What does this mean, Sam?” I whispered. “What do you want from me?”
Supple lids cloaked his emerald green eyes as he laughed through his nose. “I’m pretty sure I made myself clear.”
He had, but still . . . I was so fucking confused. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt the tears running down my cheeks. “If I say no—if I don’t choose you—will I lose you altogether?”
His chest rose and fell, his resolve visibly deflating. “You’d never lose me, London.”
It was an instant relief but it didn’t make any of this go away.
“I need some time,” I finally said. Time to think this through, to mull over my feelings for Sam, my feelings for Bryce. What he was asking of me could not be decided on the spot. I needed time.
At that, Sam turned his back on me and headed for the door. Grasping the handle, he swung the door open and looked over his shoulder to say one last thing. “I understand you need time, but just keep in mind . . . What you felt tonight? I’ve been feeling that for more than a decade.”
Sam
SHE NEEDED TIME and time was a fucking deep thorn in my side.
I watched it pass by, year after year. Let it slip through my fingers because there was no way to hold on to it or make it stop.
Seventeen years. I’d been in love with London Monroe for sixteen and a half of them. I considered those first six months when we were kids a grace period. I was a rowdy young boy getting accustomed to a frilly little girl, until I finally came to accept that one day that little girl would turn into a woman. The only woman I ever truly loved. The only woman I ever wanted for myself.
When I gave her her first kiss, I thought I sealed the deal for us. Maybe she only thought I was coaching her that day, a practice shot before the real deal. But no. For me, that kiss—the one and only time I ever had those beautiful, succulent lips—was the real deal. Yeah, we were young, like really fucking young, but I knew then that there was no one like London. Even at that age, I was certain I would never find another girl like her.
And my young punk self was right! Now I was a man with many years, many kisses, and many other women since. I’d searched far and wide—I’d been to the other goddamn side of the world, for Christ’s sake—and no matter where I was, or who I was with, not a single woman in this world compared to my London.
My London. But she wasn’t mine. I thought I could change that, though. When she called me to tell me what Hunter did, my first impulse was to drop everything and get back to her. She needed me. If there was ever a time when she needed me, it was then. No, she needed me the whole fucking year I was gone. And I lost my chance to prove that to her because of a stupid decision that didn’t matter now anyway.
I left because I had no purpose here anymore. I left because the opportunity arose and I thought, Yeah. Why not? She’s with someone else. What’s holding me back? I have nothing keeping me here and I can’t sit back and love her from afar. So, I put even more distance between us in hopes of finally coming to terms with it. London would never be mine because she belonged to someone else.
And then she didn’t.
Had I not run away like a little bitch, it would be my arms comforting her, my kisses silencing her worries, my heart refilling the pieces of hers that had been stolen.
That’s what I wanted. I wanted it to be me. And now she knew. There was no hiding it anymore. No reason to, either. I’d held back from confessing this secret because I didn’t want to ruin a marriage. But Hunter did that all on his own with his lying, his gambling, his neglect. To think I had respected him enough to stay away. Asshole. At least he was out of the picture now. But if London knew what I knew, she’d be even more devastated. Or maybe she’d hate him the way she should.
Then there was Bryce. Which shouldn’t have mattered. He was irrelevant in this equation. Even the thought of her with him made my blood boil. Hunter had been her husband—that I learned to live with. But now she’d given herself over to another man. Another man who wasn’t me, and to make matters worse, I had to pretend it didn’t bother me. Make believe I was some gossipy girlfriend who wanted to hear all the details about her new guy.
Talk about taunting. That morning when I had to listen to her gush over him and see her all giddy about sleeping with him, it took every ounce of control not to tell her how I felt. In hindsight, maybe I should’ve. Maybe whatever was blossoming between them wouldn’t have gone any further. I stepped aside once before, thinking her feelings for another man would pass. But those feelings only grew stronger until she married the fucking dude.
I couldn’t let that happen with Bryce. Who was this guy anyway? Why was he standing in my way? I’d known her longer.
I had to fight the urge not to scream, It’s not fair! I knew her first! like a child having a tantrum. Instead, I marched to the liquor cabinet and poured a glass of Scotch. I tossed it back in one gulp and yelled out, “Motherfucker!” The burn of the alcohol and of my pride ripped through me, but I emptied another helping of the poison into my glass and cursed some more. Thankfully, my mother was in Florida with some Bunco friends for the week. I could drink myself silly and lose my shit without an audience. How perfect.
But I didn’t want to lose my shit. I wanted to be next door with London, holding her, telling her I was sorry for acting like a jerk and letting her know it was only because I was so frustrated she didn’t love me back.
Will she ever love me back?
I didn’t have a goddamn clue, but what I did know was that I was going to fight for her, for once and for all.
Ten years earlier
This was stupid. I had nothing to be scared of. London was my best friend. Asking her to the school dance wouldn’t be weird at all. She didn’t have a date and neither did I, and I knew for a fact she wanted to go. If you really thought about it, I was doing her a favor.
Mostly, I was doing myself a favor.
Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely loved what London and I had. It was a good gig, a perfect relationship. Minus the physical stuff, of course.
London and I had been inseparable for almost seven years now. I couldn’t remember a time when we weren’t doing homework together or walking to and from school, talking each other’s ears off. Every year we trick-or-treated together until it was too lame to dress up so we stayed home to hand out candy while watching scary movies. We snuck out to house parties together, shared oversized T-shirts, followed the same cover bands around like groupies, and told each other everything.
Well, if I was being honest, not everything.
London had no idea that I was truly, madly, deeply in love with her. Yes, I wanted to stand with her on a mountain, to bathe with her in the sea. She loved that song, by the way. And I loved it because she did, even if she played in on repeat for a week straight. What were best friends for, you know?
I threw my keys onto the hall table after shutting the door behind me. Mom was at work and I should probably start my homework—I had a dumb paper on Thornton Wilder’s Our Town due in two days. London was supposed to be helping me—as per usual—but today she stayed after school for some theater club thing I had no idea she was interested in.
Maybe I was losing my best-friend-touch, or maybe I’d been so consumed with thinking about asking her to the dance that I clear forgot about the theater club thing. Either way, I couldn’t wait for her to get home in an hour. Today was the day. I was going to ask her, and I knew she’d say yes. I mean, who wouldn’t say yes to this stud? If London said no, I had plenty of girls to
choose from. But even if there were hundreds of girls vying for my attention, there was only one I cared about.
One hour turned to two and I waited at the window like a neglected puppy. When she finally strolled down the block, smiling ear-to-ear with her hands gripped tightly at the straps of her backpack, she bypassed my house and went straight next door to hers.
What the fuck? Her mom was working. God only knew where Memphis was. There was no car in the driveway. London hated being home alone. She was supposed to be here. Helping me with this stupid paper, saying yes to my invitation to the dance.
Whatever. Maybe she had to go to the bathroom or something. That hadn’t mattered when we were kids, but as we got older she was more private about certain things. I’d give her a few minutes.
But a few minutes elapsed into a half hour and I couldn’t sit still anymore. I didn’t want to wait. I grabbed my backpack and flew out the door, jumping over the short bushes that lined our two properties for privacy. They hadn’t been necessary for a long time.
Her front door was unlocked, so I walked right in like I usually did. I expected to enter a quiet house, especially if London was still in the bathroom. But I could hear pacing footsteps above me, and she was talking. She always paced when she was on the phone.
I hitched my backpack higher on my shoulder and started for the steps. “Hey!” I called out. She scared easily and I’d been known to give her a near heart attack once or twice by not announcing my presence.
But she didn’t answer, she just kept talking, giggling, babbling, and rambling. Teenage girls, I laughed to myself, approaching her bedroom and bringing my hand up to knock on the door before entering.
“Oh my God, he’s so cute, isn’t he? I mean, cute isn’t even the word. He’s definitely not like the other guys at school.” Another string of giggles, I couldn’t see her behind the door, but I knew she was curling her long, brown hair around her index finger.
I should’ve stopped listening then; it wasn’t right to eavesdrop on your best friend’s conversations. But we didn’t keep secrets from each other . . . unless . . . unless she was keeping the same secret I was keeping from her. Maybe the cute boy at school who wasn’t like any of the other guys was . . . me!
Every Breath You Take (The Every Breath Duet Book 1) Page 19