Conflict (The Wellingtons Book 3)

by Tessa Teevan

  “Oh my God, you were really, really dry!” I exclaim.

  Her grin widens. “And, now, Benjamin has a jumbo-size bottle of lube next to his bed.”

  Once again, we dissolve into a fit of giggles so unruly that we both nearly hyperventilate.

  Ariana wipes her eyes, wraps an arm around my shoulders, and presses her temple to mine. “I’m just glad that, no matter what, I’ll always have you.”

  I squeeze her hand. “Always, Ari. Always.”

  Three hours and a bottle of wine later—she gave up the tequila—Ari and I are lounging on my bed, watching hours of old episodes of Friends. We’ve small-talked ourselves out, both of us apparently in our own heads, and exhausted ourselves after a friendly debate over which of the Avengers we’d want to play Marry, Fuck, Kill with.

  And then we realized we can’t kill any of them, so it was a pointless argument.

  Screw you, Thanos.

  “I can’t stop thinking about him,” she whispers.

  I turn to her, surprised by the words. I thought she was already asleep. Perhaps she is.

  “Who?” I whisper back, not wanting to wake her if she’s dreaming.

  “The man from the hotel.”

  Now, I’m fully awake. “Ari, what happened that night?”

  “Nothing.” She sighs. “And everything.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He was just…so damn broken, and yet so damn perfect. How is that even possible?” she asks, and this time, her voice trails off as she drifts off to sleep.

  God, what a pair the two of us make.

  “Covington! My office, now.”

  I jerk, looking up as my pseudo-boss slash cheerleader slash mentor, and most of all, one of my new best friends, raises an eyebrow in my direction. Oh God. Did I forget his coffee? His mail? I rack my brain until I realize those aren’t even my duties. I lock my screen and stand quickly before smoothing out my skirt and following Bryan into his office. As he closes the door behind him, I swallow hard.

  I’ve been working in my new position at Wellsley-Callahan for five months and have loved absolutely every single second of it. The company believes its workforce thrives by using a mentorship program, so Bryan, having worked in the accounting department for a few years now, was paired with me. I had no idea how lucky I was the day he strolled up to me and introduced myself. Studying him currently, I still have a fine appreciation for his charming boy-next-door looks, but I have an even finer appreciation for his patience, guidance, and brilliant mathematic mind. That being said, the five months since my time with Shane has done nothing to lessen my…attachment to him. You’d think I’d be over it, he’d be long forgotten by now. But no, barely a night passes without the memory of those two amazing days coming back to me.

  Bryan clears his throat. When I glance up with what I can only guess is a blush, he gestures towards an open chair and I take a seat, curious about this Friday afternoon tête-à-tête. In the business world, nothing good happens on a Friday afternoon.

  “You wanted to see me, boss?” I asked, trying for a shy, innocent look, knowing the moniker would rankle him.

  Bryan’s brown eyes roll. “How many times… Forget it. The more I protest, the more I know you’ll use it, so I’ll save my breath.”

  I grin. “Living with two women certainly has given you a unique set of smarts, Price. I couldn’t be prouder.”

  “One woman now,” he replies with emphasis on the first word. “You know Cheyenne and Sawyer moved in together a while ago, don’t you?”

  I smile at the mention one of his female best friends and now former roommate, who is currently shacking up with Sawyer Callahan. Yes, the Callahan, current CFO of the company we work for. Cheyenne is the current head of marketing. With Bryan taking me under his wing, I became quick friends with Cheyenne—and, in turn, Sawyer. At first, I was a bit daunting that I was playing beer bong with my boss’s boss’s boss’s boss, but I didn’t take long to realize that, outside of the office, Sawyer was a friend.

  Plus, he once told me with a wink, “Human resources does all the firing anyway.”

  I was instantly endeared.

  The other roommate—the one I’m not so sure of—is Cori, and she’s not a part of our Wellsley-Callahan family. She’s what Bryan calls a free spirit, and she runs a ridiculously popular relationship blog. Though, knowing her own love life, I don’t see how the woman has any right giving anyone advice.

  Except I’ve peeked a time or two and the woman actually knows what she’s talking about. Funny how that works.

  Bryan coughs, taking me from my thoughts.

  “Do you not remember the girls’ night Cori planned on Cheyenne’s last night at the apartment?” I say. “Of course I’m aware. I still can’t look at a cucumber in the market without blushing.”

  One thing about having a friend with a friend who writes a relationship-slash-lifestyle blog is you’re often a guinea pig. I can’t complain too much because my skin’s never been clearer, my hair is shinier than ever (thanks, apple cider vinegar!), and since Shane, I’ve been stuck with masturbating. Unsurprisingly, Cori had some pretty killer advice in that arena, too.

  But her thing with cucumbers?

  No. Just…no.

  I shudder at the thought.

  Bryan is looking at me with curiosity. “Why did she make me buy so many cucumbers?”

  My cheeks flush with heat. “If you’d wanted the answer to that, Bryan, the time was that night. What happens at girls’ night stays at girls’ night.”

  He groans, and I have to wonder how many girls’ nights he had to partake in while living with the two of them. I imagine he’s seen more than most.

  “Suffice it to say, Alyssa, I was quite happy to drink beer and watch ball with Sawyer.”

  Bryan switches topics quickly, catching me off guard. “Hey, so I know you don’t like to talk about your parents.” I groan, and he holds a hand up to me. “Hear me out. I believe you once called them social butterflies…No, locusts, so I was wondering, do you think they know anything about the Wellingtons?”

  My mouth drops open, and I barely register the description I’ve definitely used for my parents before with him. Bryan raises a brow. “I take it you know something about the Wellingtons.”

  “I… I met Shane in passing once,” I stammer, not wanting to lie to him, but not exactly wanting to share all the intimate details.

  He leans back in his chair. “Shane,” he mutters, as if trying to place the name. I know the moment he realizes it. “The Atlanta CFO? He’s the one who plays golf with Sawyer and Cheyenne seems to like him well enough.”

  My throat is suddenly drier than the Mojave Desert. I should’ve known they were familiar, but I never would’ve expected they were friendly with Shane. I clear my throat and smile at Bryan, hoping like hell I’m giving nothing away. “If they know him, why are you asking me if my parents know the family?”

  Bryan shrugs. “Personal curiosity, I guess. And I prefer to know as much as I can about the competition. Cheyenne, however, told me looking into the Wellingtons wasn’t something on the top of our list and to mind my own business.”

  “Well, since she’s sleeping with your boss, might as well listen to her.” He scowls, and I take the opportunity to hopefully move the conversation along in a different direction. “So, you seem on edge. Not like your usual chipper self. And you obviously didn’t call me in here to go over the latest figures for the Filiatrault merger, so what’s on your mind?”

  He runs a hand through his dark hair, mussing it up even more than usual. Another thing I love about Bryan: He has an uncanny way of looking professional yet downright casually sexy all at the same time.

  Don’t get me wrong. While I have an appreciation for eye candy at work—not to mention his killer personality—Bryan and I friend-zoned each other pretty much on day one. Which is another reason our professional relationship, as well as our friendship, is smooth sailing. But hey, just because I have a s
isterly affection for the guy doesn’t mean I can’t admire the view from time to time

  “Well…it’s just… You see…” Bryan stammers, which is quite unlike him. He glances around the office, not looking at me, while fidgeting with a pen.

  I decide to rescue him. “Okay, this is obviously a conversation for happy hour, not at the office when I’m trying to finish up so I can enjoy my weekend without thinking of a single number other than the one for Vietnamese takeout.”

  Bryan glances at the clock then back at me, his eyes lit up at the thought of beer, bar food, and apparently deep conversation.

  “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

  He nods.

  And just as I’m about to exit his office, my hand catches the doorjamb and I pause. “And, boss? Feel free to throw my name in the hat when it comes to traveling to France the next time the bigwigs need to go “visit the biggest Filiatrault winery”. You know, a way to get the new girl’s feet wet.”

  A grin covers Bryan’s face and he winks. “I’ll see what I can do, Covington. I’ll see what I can do.”

  After work, Bryan and I catch a cab. When we arrive at a hole-in-the-wall bar I’ve never been to, I turn to him, puzzled, but he ignores me as he pays the tab.

  It’s not until we’re settling in at the bar, him with a whiskey—which also has me puzzled because Bryan’s usually a Jäger kind of guy—and me with a glass of white wine that I pounce.

  “What are we doing here?” I ask. “We always go to Five Points for happy hour on Fridays.”

  Bryan runs a hand through messy hair again. I imagine he’s been doing it all day now. “I did it. Again.”

  I sit back against my chair, letting out a breath. “Oh, Bryan,” I whisper, wanting to reach out to him but not wanting to be too familiar.

  “What the fuck is wrong with me?” he growls. “I told myself the last time was a fluke. Drunk on vacation, never talked about again. But…”

  The pain etched on his face sinks my heart. He’s been in love with his roommate since his college days, and twice—no, three times now—she’s let him into her bed, but not her heart.

  “Look, I’m not the best person to give relationship advice—”

  He interrupts with a scoff. “Alyssa, I’m pining over a relationship blogger who wouldn’t know a good relationship if it fell into her lap. Fuck, it’s been in her lap three times.”

  I lift my wine glass in a silent touché. “You know what they say about three strikes?”

  His brown eyes meet mine, and I’m reminded of a heartbroken puppy. “I told her if I walked out the door, I was leaving and not coming back. She let me go.”

  Bryan is the definition of nice guys finish last. I hate it for him.

  “So what are you going to do?” I ask.

  He sighs. “Can I crash at your place? I just… I can’t go back there. It’s what I always do. I give too much, she gives nothing. Or when she gives a little, she takes it back. I’m too old to play these games anymore, and I just need some goddamn space to get my head back on straight.”

  “Absolutely,” I agree with no hesitation, giving him a reassuring smile. “Whatever you need, Bryan. I’m here.”

  His mouth breaks into an appreciative smile. “You’re a lifesaver, Alyssa. You have no idea.”

  I’m about to respond, but he orders two more shots. He holds the glass up to me and we cheer. “A little liquid courage never hurt anyone, right?”

  I laugh. “As long as you leave it at a little bit,” I tease.

  Just like that, we down our shots, hail a cab, and head across the city to Bryan’s place so he can pack whatever he needs to become my new roomie.

  When we exit the cab, Bryan looks up at the building from the sidewalk. I stand beside him and check his shoulder with mine.

  He gives me a wry grin. “I suppose a little more liquid courage would’ve been nice.”

  “You don’t need to be intoxicated to do this, Bryan. You just need to be strong. I get it. You’re in love with her and the last thing you want to do is walk away. But you’re not just walking; she’s pushing. Space sounds like what you both need. And hopefully, space and time will be what brings you back together—or what helps you let go.”

  “Aren’t I supposed to be the mentor here?”

  I laugh and pat his arm. “You’re good with numbers. I’m good with…well, not exactly matters of the heart. Just looking out for a friend.”

  He sighs. “Let’s get this over with.”

  With trepidation, I follow Bryan into the condo. We step inside, straight into a large living room with pictures all over the walls. It’s homey, and I can see why they loved living together. Until now, of course.

  “I’m just going to pack a bag real quick. You good here?” he asks, and I nod.

  I wander around the room, studying each picture while I wait. Even if I hadn’t known that Bryan was in love with her, I would’ve seen it on his face in each and every photo. Sure, they’re of the three of them, but his focus is always on her. How can she not see it herself? And if she can, how (and why) does she deny it?

  I hear a throat clear and turn. Cori is leaning a shoulder against the wall, watching me with interest. Her raven hair is in a messy bun, and she’s beautiful with sun-kissed skin.

  “Well, this is interesting. Didn’t take Bryan to move on too long,” she remarks with a sarcastic smile. “I always wondered if you two had a thing.”

  I may not be an expert, but I’m experienced enough not to miss the pain hiding behind her eyes. I have the urge to insist Bryan and I are just friends, but perhaps she needs a swift kick in the ass to realize he isn’t a sure thing she can string along.

  So, instead of the reassurance and sisterhood solidarity I’d like to give her, I opt for nonchalance. I study my nails, then glance back to her with a shrug. “From what I’ve heard, there was nothing for him to move on from.”

  It’s a low blow, I know. But what can I say? In the time I’ve known Bryan, we’ve formed a fast friendship, with almost a sibling-like comradery.

  Cori lifts her chin and stares at me. As the seconds pass, I start to feel like an ass.

  “Unless you’d like to tell me differently?” I offer, wondering if this whole thing between them can end—or actually begin—now.

  We lock gazes as she continues to stare. I’m willing her to give in; she’s not budging an inch. It isn’t until the sound of Bryan coming down the hall that our battle of wills ends.

  “No,” she says, and that one word breaks my heart for the both of them.

  She’s gone in a flash, just as Bryan steps into the room.

  He frowns, glancing around. “Were you talking to someone?”

  I plaster on a smile and walk to him, looping my arm through his. “Nope. Now, what’d you say, roomie? Ready to go home?”

  There’s a brief hesitation, and then one corner of his mouth quirks up. “Yeah, roomie. Let’s go home.”

  The cab ride to my place is one of silence. I’m okay with that. Bryan needs to process what he’s just done, even though I’m not sure it’ll hit him until he’s eating breakfast at my kitchen table with me instead of her.

  I show Bryan to the guest room that doubles as my office, and I’m glad I put a bed there for whenever Ari comes over and we have too much wine on our girl nights.

  He sets down his duffel bag and glances around. “Thanks, Alyssa. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

  I smile at him while, at the same time, my heart’s in the pit of my stomach from the sadness in his eyes. “Hey, living by yourself can get lonely and my landlord’s been a pain in my ass lately. I look forward to having you as a roommate. I meant what I said, you can stay as long as you want. Now, what do you say we wash the week away with a pizza, my couch, a fantastic bottle of wine, and the newest Ali Wong special. I promise she’ll have you laughing your ass off and forgetting everything.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  And it should. Except there’s t
hat one small (ginormous) part of me that thinks maybe, just maybe, I made the same mistake as Cori.

  Shane,

  I know you wanted me to be here when you returned. Hell, I wanted to be here. But as incredible as the past two days were, I can’t throw away everything I’ve worked so hard to build for a fling. Maybe I’m being ridiculous. Maybe not. But as long as our companies are competing for this contract, I have to keep my distance. Please, respect me by keeping yours as well. I hope we’ll see each other again when all this over. If not, I’ll always have fond memories of dolphins, sunshine, and…well, you.

  Alyssa

  The words blur as I toss back another scotch, enjoying the burning in my chest. It’s been a long, damn six months since Alyssa came into my life. Six months since she so quickly disappeared from it. We live in the same damn city, yet I still can’t go to her.

  Sure, Atlanta’s big enough, but… like she said, I have to respect her wishes. Or at least, I’ve made myself respect them up until now. I never thought Filiatrault would be dragging his heels for so long. When I’d first read her note, I was disappointed, but I also knew that as soon as the irritating man signed on the dotted line, I’d be in her office, asking her out.

  The line remains unsigned, and my cock couldn’t be more pissed about it.

  “A little early to be drinking on the job, isn’t it?”

  My cousin’s rough voice takes me out of my thoughts. He throws a file onto my desk and moves to the decanter on the side of the room, pouring himself his own before sitting across from me.

  He sips the amber liquid, and if the burn affects him, he doesn’t show it. “Ah. Liquid heaven.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just say it was too early to be drinking?”

  Branson grins at me, and it’s…uncanny. I can’t remember the last time Branson smiled. “I couldn’t let you drink alone, now could I? How uncharitable do you think I am?”

  “You’re right. What was I thinking? Have the nuns dedicated an abbey in your name yet?”

  He shudders. “I still have nightmares about rulers thanks to Sister Mary Therese. Thank you so much for bringing it up.”