The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories

by Brina Courtney

  “I forgot to tell you I’m going to a mental health conference this weekend in San Diego. I leave Friday.”

  “Oh, yeah, that sounds fun,” he said.

  “Uh huh,” I murmured, awaiting his next comment. He took a moment to speak.

  “I’ve got a pretty busy weekend coming up, so that works out.” His back still turned away from me. Easy for him to lie when he wasn’t looking at my face, huh? I bet it did work out well for him. He just didn’t know it worked out well for me too.

  That week brought me an interesting visit with a couple, The Gartons. Carmen Garton began seeing me about a year prior to deal with some father issues. After working with her for a while, we decided it would be good to bring her husband Seth in the mix to help him understand some of her insecurities and work on their relationship as well. Carmen was unusually suspicious of his whereabouts and often thought he was out using drugs and soliciting prostitutes.

  “So did you both do your self-reflection exercise?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I have mine here,” Seth said and handed me a manila folder.

  “Carmen?” She gave no indication that she was prepared with her exercises.

  “I think we should talk about something else,” she said, and I inched forward to listen. “I want to talk about why Seth took five-hundred dollars in cash out of our account on the same day that he claimed to be working late.”

  “Seriously, Carmen?” Seth rolled his eyes.

  “Carmen, what’s this about?” I asked.

  “I know that he’s sneaking off, getting high and blown by hookers.” She turned to Seth. “You disgust me.”

  She was perfectly serious and the scenario wasn’t unfamiliar. We were starting to make some progress, but any evidence she stumbled on always regressed her back to square one. Seth shook his head then stood.

  “You know what? I’m done.” He turned to me. “We’re here for two seconds and she starts in with this bullshit. I can’t take it anymore. It’s not worth it.” And with that he stormed out. Just another eventful day at Dr. Johns’ office.

  “See, I’m right,” Carmen said, staring after him and then turning to me. “He could at least try to explain himself, but he has no real excuse.”

  “Are you absolutely sure about that?” I asked.

  “Pretty sure, but I’ll be able to prove it soon.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I hired a private investigator.”

  “Really?” A private investigator?

  “Yeah, I found him in the yellow pages, in the Castro.”

  And that was exactly what I needed for the weekend, a private investigator to keep an eye on James while I was “at a conference.” It was perfect.

  “Do you have his number?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The PI

  I twiddled the business card between my fingers. Ed Rogers, Private Investigator. Life really does change in an instant. Not long ago I was blissfully engaged and unaware. My life was assimilating to that long established path of marriage, babies, and happily ever after with someone I thought I knew. Instead, I’d found myself in a fake relationship, ready to hire someone to follow him undercover like some kind of criminal. Then again, what men do, what James was about to do, was a crime.

  In truth, I was excited to close this chapter in my life. With any luck, the PI would be able to confirm my suspicions and this whole thing would be over. What will Holly say when she finds out I not only went through with my plan, but that her brother-in-law’s best friend was the one who proved it right? The mere thought of that proposed victory tasted justifiably sweet. I picked up the phone and set up an appointment for Thursday.

  “Did I just hear you make an appointment to meet a PI?” Andy asked as he swooped into my office. Nosey much?

  “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

  “So, it was a PI.” He seemed proud that he solved the case. I stared at him, silently willing him to leave. “What are you up to, Marin?” he asked.

  “You caught me. I hired a PI to stalk you.”

  “Nice try. I gotta go. You can tell me the real story later.” He glanced at his watch and left my office. I shut the door behind him and dialed Telly.

  “Ello, Bay-bee,” she said in a bad French accent.

  “You feel like getting out of town this weekend?” I asked.

  “That depends. Where am I going?”

  “How about we spend a couple of days at the wine country B&B and spa?”

  “Oooh, sounds good. And to what do I owe this pleasure?” she asked in an even worse English accent.

  “Short version? You were right about the cell phone. James thinks I’m out of town this weekend, but really I’m hiring a PI to be my eyes and ears.”

  “Okay, wow. Well, the answer to your first question is yes, and you can tell me the rest on the way.”

  “I’ll book the rooms, you drive.”

  How exciting. Not only would I catch James cheating, but I’d also get to relax and enjoy it with Telly at the spa. Ah, life has a funny way of working itself out sometimes.

  Thursday afternoon arrived with anticipation for my meeting with the private investigator. The only knowledge I had about PIs was from movies, and I wouldn’t exactly call that knowledge. That day I wore a black suit with a pencil skirt and pumps. If I had worn a fashionable 1940s hat, I could have easily been reminiscent of a bewildered woman wandering into the office of a private detective. Up on the fourth floor, a single door plaque marked his suite. Thankfully, the occasion made me feel theatrical, because I’d have to put on a convincing show for Mr. Rogers. As far as he was concerned, I was just an innocent victim of yet another philanderer. I gathered my thoughts at the door, reviewing my plan. After a deep breath, I swung open the unpredictably lightweight door and nearly took out the bookshelf that stood on the other side of it. I winced at the crashing noise, and for a second I thought I broke the door in half.

  “Ms. Johns?” a voice called.

  My eyes opened, the door was still intact. In front of me stood an older gentleman with an unkempt mustache and a wrinkled, collared shirt. I regained my composure and glided over to him. “Mr. Rogers, pleasure to meet you.”

  We shook hands and he motioned me to take a seat. His small office was packed with a messy desk, bookshelves, filing cabinets, and the smell of stale coffee. He was clearly a one-man operation.

  “Would you like some coffee?” he asked, pulling out a carafe of dense black coffee.

  “No, thank you.” I smiled. He poured himself a cup and sat down.

  “So . . .” He examined me. “You think your boyfriend’s having an affair?”

  My eyebrows lifted. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “What makes you so sure?” he asked with an untrusting stare.

  “Well, before it was just a gut feeling. You know, a woman’s intuition.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Then I saw a text message on his phone from another woman saying she couldn’t wait to see him this weekend and she missed him.”

  His face relaxed. “Well, that is disturbing.”

  “If I don’t have hard evidence he’ll only deny it. I’d spy on him myself, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very good at it.”

  “And so you came to me,” he said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, I’ve had plenty of cases like yours. If there is anything to find, I’ll find it. I just need to get some information, then we’re in business.”

  “Great.”

  That night I packed my things for the weekend away. Dressed in my pajamas, I settled on the couch with a hot cup of tea and a new episode of my favorite doctor drama. It was about eight-thirty when there was a knock at my door. The unexpected visit startled me enough to spill some of the hot tea on my hand. Ouch! I rose slowly from the couch. This better be good.

  It was James.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” I said as James came in for a big hug.

  “I wanted to s
ay goodbye before you left for the weekend.”

  “Oh, how sweet,” I said.

  “I guess you’re all packed up.”

  “Yeah, I am,” I said. You sneaky son-of-a-bitch. Coming over to make sure I was leaving for the weekend. Hmm, two can play that game. He only stayed for a few minutes, claiming he’d had a long day working and would see me when I got back.

  Telly and I left in the afternoon for Napa, which was only about an hour away. With traffic, we’d be lucky if we made it there in two. After escaping the city, we headed up I-80. I slipped my shades on, took my shoes off, and kicked back for the ride. Telly and I updated each other on the latest news. She told me that Zack Morris finally made a move and things were getting pretty hot between the two of them. I told her all about the mysterious text and my trip to the PI’s office. Forty-five minutes later the conversation ran dry, and I flipped through the radio for something appropriate or at least decent.

  “Wait,” Telly said before I could turn the station again. A classic eighties rock piano intro seeped through the speakers. Telly and I knew the song well. She turned it up so loud that it vibrated my chest. We rolled down the windows and sang the verse. I rocked the air guitar while Telly kept the beat on the dashboard drums.

  We finally took the exit for Napa and it wasn’t long before we were at the White House Inn and Spa, a white colonial surrounded by beautiful, lush, and green landscaping. The foyer was equally as stunning with a wooden staircase, intricate molding, and soft, warm lighting. My spacious room was painted in cool beige and furnished with dark woods. A king bed near the window was dressed in fluffy white sheets, which swallowed me. Then I remembered James and the reason I was swallowed up in fluffy sheets in wine country. I sent him a quick text.

  Made it to San Diego. Having dinner with some colleagues. I’ll call you when I can.

  He quickly replied.

  Ok, have a great time!

  Telly met me in the foyer around seven o’clock for dinner. We headed to Zuzu, a local tapas restaurant we were unfamiliar with, but which came highly recommended. Zuzu had a quaint European feel, and we were seated up on the balcony. The waiter rushed out Telly’s merlot and my pinot grigio. Everything was going fabulously. Fabulous food, fabulous ambiance, fabulous company. I couldn’t have asked for a better girl’s outing until Telly’s face turned a shade of pale.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. She didn’t move, only stared behind me.

  “It’s Will,” she said finally. I whipped my head in his direction, wide eyed and gaping. It was Will all right. Telly’s longtime on again, off again boyfriend. They met in college when she was a freshman with newfound freedom and he was a junior in love. When I met Telly, she and Will were on the outs of their latest relationship. I only met him a couple of times, but Telly told me about every fight, every break up, and every incredible make-up sex session.

  He spotted us and stood. His approach made me nervous, but was probably nothing compared to Telly, who had regained her composure and smiled like she hadn’t missed a beat of our fabulous time. Will was tall with wavy, brown hair and a sexy five o’clock shadow. He wore a tailored blue suit, light grey shirt that was unbuttoned at the top, and a very expensive watch.

  “Well, if it isn’t Chantell Torres,” he said standing over us. Telly stood to greet him and he kissed her cheek.

  “Hi, Will.”

  “You look gorgeous,” he said. Telly looked away, blushing a little. “What brings you to Napa?”

  “Marin and I decided to get away from the city for the weekend.” He took his eyes off of Telly just long enough to acknowledge my presence.

  “Of course, Marin. How are you?” he asked and shook my hand.

  “Very well, thank you.”

  He nodded cordially, then reverted his undivided attention back to Telly. “So, where are you staying?” He inched closer to Telly. Sniff, sniff. Smells like trouble.

  “We’re at the White House Inn,” she said.

  “You’re kidding.” He beamed. “I’m staying there too.”

  Well, well, look at that. Telly was having herself a little reunion, and I’d be going to bed alone while my pretend boyfriend cheated on me. My getaway fell sour.

  “Is that right?” Telly responded without an ounce of excitement or interest. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  “Yeah, I’m having dinner with some prospects, but if you want to have a drink later I’d love to catch up.”

  “Sure, I’ll let you know.” She brushed him off like a pro, but he handed her his business card.

  “It was great running into you, Telly,” he said, stars apparent in his eyes. She gave a tight smile and he walked back to his table, gazing at Telly before he sat down. Telly downed her merlot like it was a shot of tequila.

  “I’m gonna need another one of these,” she said, catching her breath from the long gulp.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said with an increased tone. I didn’t know if she was trying to prove it to me or to herself. Probably both.

  “Are you gonna meet him later?” I asked. She shrugged and looked away.

  We spent the rest of the evening engaging in our usual Telly-Marin banter. She managed to steal a few glances at Will. The first time I brought it to her attention she seemed annoyed, so I ignored it the rest of the night. We headed back to the Inn and to our respective rooms, both of us tired from the workweek and tipsy from the wine.

  The silence of wine country allowed for a restful sleep. The next morning, I wandered out to the pool to meet Telly for breakfast. She hid behind the Chronicle, sipping her coffee, and eating eggs and bacon. Her wine country chic ensemble included white shorts, a navy blue top, and her signature dark shades. I was more on the side of sleepy-chic with my heather gray yoga pants and white zip up hoodie. We ate our breakfast, enjoying the view of the tranquil pool, full-bloom gardens, and the cool gentle breeze.

  “So, what are we doing today?” Telly asked.

  “We have a massage and facial at eleven, lunch, then tonight we’re going to a wine tasting party.”

  “Oh, nice,” she said and let out a big yawn.

  “Late night?” I asked.

  “No, not really.” Hmm . . .

  “You seem a little tired, thought maybe you met up with Will.” Her silence was incriminating “Did you hook up with Will last night?” I asked in a whisper. She blushed.

  “Okay, fine, I met him out here for one drink. Big deal,” she said like I caught her taking one cookie from the cookie jar. But, Telly’s not one for moderation.

  “Is that all?” I said.

  “Yeah. We talked and he kissed me goodnight.” She buried her head deeper into her newspaper.

  “Aw, that’s sweet, Telly. Now what?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you going to see him again?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe if I run into him in the city.”

  “So that’s it, huh?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Good for you. Get in and get out.”

  “Any word from your PI?” she asked, strategically changing the subject.

  “Not yet. I don’t know if that’s a good sign or a bad sign.”

  “Well, let’s forget about the guys for today and enjoy ourselves, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said and leaned back in my chair, gazing quietly over the garden.

  There was something about getting a body massage and skin pampering that made life feel easy breezy. I forgot about Chad, about James, and about all the troubles of my recent life. For a short time, I could just let go. Telly and I were fully refreshed when we arrived at a nearby vineyard for a wine tasting.

  It was held at a Victorian cottage with a wraparound deck adorned in twinkle lights and candles. There was an impressive spread of Mediterranean foods and, of course, lots and lots of wine. Each sip of wine was more unique and intoxicating than the last. I was feeling a little tipsy, so I went to the h
ors d'oeuvre table to fill my stomach. Then, I felt a vibration in my purse. It was the private investigator.

  “Hi, Mr. Rogers. How’s everything?” I asked.

  “Well that depends.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “How do you feel about tall blondes spending the night at your boyfriend’s house?” I felt my heart drop deep into the pit of my stomach. That son-of-a-bitch is actually cheating on me.

  “Do you have proof?” I asked.

  “Pictures. I’ll email them to you along with the report. I’m so sorry, Ms. Marin. You were right.”

  “Thank you.” I put down the phone, grabbed the closest glass of wine, and downed it. Telly was talking with a salt-and-pepper gentleman when she spotted me and excused herself immediately.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I just got a call from the PI.”

  “And?” I didn’t have to say anything my silence was answer enough.

  “Unfucking believable,” she said. “Come on, we’re going back to the city to shove it in his tiny little dick hole.” She tugged my arm to leave, but I planted my feet.

  “No, no. We’re here. We’re having a good time. We leave in the morning. There’s no reason to spoil the night.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes,” I said, forcing a smile. “Besides we knew this was gonna happen. It happens to everyone.”

  As much as I wanted to believe what I was saying and relish in being right, I couldn’t. Instead, I felt singled out. The harsh truth was settling in once again. When it came to my own cheating boyfriends, real or fake, I was still on a learning curve. I snagged another glass of wine.

  Telly and I made our way through the crowd, mixing and mingling with nearly everyone. We were laughing and joking, flirting with cute guys, and of course indulging in some of the best wine I’d ever tasted. The more wine I had, the more relaxed I felt, and the more I forgot about what I would have to deal with when I got home.