by Gina Azzi
Indy gasps.
A blaze of anger shoots through me at the anguish twisting Chloe’s expression. My hand not gripping a beer bottle clenches into a fist and my teeth click as I grind them together. Next to me, Noah tenses and across, East swears. It’s worse than I thought. Not only did the douchebag step out on her but he did so with one of her best friends? What a piece of shit. And what a crappy friend.
Noah shakes his head, muttering under his breath.
“The wedding’s off, right?” East asks.
“Of course,” Chloe sniffles. “I just, God, I feel so stupid.”
“Don’t.” Claire jabs her finger at Chloe. “You’re one of the smartest women I know, Chloe. And I’m related to this one.” Claire hooks her thumb toward Indy, the only person in our family to have a PhD, and Indy blushes. “How long ago?”
“Two months,” Chloe admits. “I moved back in with my parents right afterwards but they already sold our family home and were transitioning back here. So, here I am, back in Boston. For the summer at least.”
Indy’s face falls as she watches Chloe. “I’m really sorry, Chlo. I’m sure you’ve heard this a thousand times but really, you dodged a bullet.”
“Hell yeah,” Claire adds. “It’s definitely better to know what an asshole he is before you were legally bound to him.”
“And what a bad friend she is,” Indy adds.
Chloe nods slowly, her eyes glazed over. She’s probably had this conversation several times and still, knowing she’s better off isn’t making her feel better off.
Chloe drains her wine glass. Indy shifts to refill it and Chloe sighs. “Guys, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m here for the summer, maybe longer. I moved out of our condo and Brittney moved right in.”
Indy gasps again.
“But two of Steve’s and my mutual friends are getting married this summer. Their engagement party is next weekend and we’re all in the wedding party—me, Brittney, and Steve.”
“Jesus,” Easton mutters.
“I know,” Chloe agrees. “I can’t just bail because I don’t want to face Steve and Brittney together. Can I? I mean, should I?” She winces. “The thought of seeing them together, of having everyone stare at me and whisper ‘oh poor little Chloe, look at her all alone.’” She shivers as if the thought turns her stomach. “It’s going to be awful. I can’t even think about the wedding in August.”
“Screw him,” Claire says.
“You need a date to the engagement party,” Indy decides.
Claire nods. “A super sexy, chiseled—”
“I’m sitting right here,” East reminds her and she swats at him.
“You need man candy,” Indy agrees.
Chloe closes her eyes. “You sound like Abbi. I’m practically a hermit these days. Where the hell am I going to find man candy?”
Indy’s eyes swing to mine and a small smile forms on her face.
Oh no. I know that look. That’s scheming Indy who thinks she’s about to announce something brilliant when in reality, she’s meddling. I raise my hand, my mouth opening to stop her when—
“Austin can take you!” Indy squeals.
3
Chloe
At Indy’s insane suggestion, my gaze darts to Austin.
He’s seated beside me around the firepit, his hands clenched and his jawline tight. Oh shit. He definitely does not like this idea and now he’s going to feel obligated to agree.
“Oh, I’m sure Austin has a million more important things to—”
“I’ll take you,” Austin says, surprising the hell out of me and everyone else in our circle.
“Wh-what?” I sputter, my limbs locking down. Austin Merrick, Captain of the Boston Hawks, is going to escort me to an engagement party? “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” he says simply.
Claire’s eyes dart between her brother and me, while Indy sits back with a satisfied smirk on her face.
“I mean, I don’t know about man candy,” Easton jokes, tilting his head as if studying Austin’s appearance.
Austin flips him off and East and Noah laugh.
“I love summer weddings,” Claire sighs dreamily. She glances at me. “They’re having an engagement party and wedding in the same summer? Is she, you know…” She clicks her tongue and points to Indy’s baby bump.
I snort and shake my head. “No, no it’s not a shotgun wedding. Marissa’s a hotel heiress and Adam’s dad is a hedge fund CEO. They decided they wanted to do it all in one summer and voila—”
“It’s done,” Claire finishes my sentence. She shakes her head and tosses me a smile. “All right. You show up all sexified on the arm of a professional athlete, even one as ugly as my brother, and Steve is going to regret ever stepping out on you. Plus, Brittney will have to console herself knowing she’s only good enough for sloppy seconds.”
Indy holds up her palm and Claire high-fives her.
I giggle, glancing between my old friends. “You really think, I mean”—I look at Austin again—“are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat.
“Where’s the party again?” Noah asks.
“Martha’s Vineyard.”
“Ooh,” Indy’s eyes glitter. “Good thing Aus just led the team to the Stanley Cup. He has some downtime and he is a Massachusetts hero.”
“You should throw his name around,” Noah agrees, getting into the planning of this insane shenanigan.
Austin winces, turning away from the firepit and taking a swig of his beer. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. Is he sure about this?
“And wear your hair up,” Noah continues, pulling my attention back to the group.
“What?” I ask, unsure if I heard him correctly.
Indy nods. “That way, when Austin kisses your neck—”
“Hold up,” Easton cuts in, glancing between Austin and me. “Are you guys going as friends or as—”
“You have to go as real dates,” Indy argues. “To the engagement party and then, to the wedding. Otherwise, it looks like a pity date.” She winces, giving me an apologetic look. “Sorry.”
I shake my head. “No offense taken.” Didn’t I voice the exact same concern to Abbi a few hours ago? The wine is definitely kicking in now because instead of protesting this ridiculous idea, I’m turning it over in my mind. If Abbi was in my predicament right now, what Claire and Indy are suggesting is exactly what I would be telling her.
Besides, Austin is my childhood friend so he really is the perfect candidate. He’s not going to see me as more than the girl he used to irritate and he’s not going to get any kind of weird ideas about sharing a hotel room or slow dancing together. We can do this as friends, right? There will definitely not be any kissing of necks or canoodling because, who the hell would want to canoodle with me? A man like Austin—successful, charming, and ridiculously hot—wouldn’t want to touch my current state of damaged goods with a ten-foot pole.
Still, I don’t want to put him on the spot. Correction: I don’t want to seem too eager to put him on the spot. I glance at him again. “We can do whatever you want. You really don’t even have to do this.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks as he stares at me. His blue eyes swirl, brimming with thoughts I don’t understand. “You want to make him jealous?”
My cheeks burn under the scrutiny of his gaze. His stare is so intense, it’s like he can see beneath my skin, to the insecurities I try to hide. Slowly, I nod, hating how pathetic it makes me look. Especially to a man like him who, according to information gleaned from my last lunch date with Savannah, dates models and successful girl boss women.
“Regardless, Steve’s getting off easy,” Austin murmurs, so quietly I almost miss the words. “It’ll be years before he realizes what he lost.”
I pull back, surprised. Where is this intensity coming from? Is he drunk?
“But…” He grins, his expression smoothing back out. My eyebrows dip together from the sud
den change in his mood. Hell, am I drunk? “You don’t know this about me, Chlo: I’m one hell of a dancer.”
Easton snorts as Indy laughs.
But I remember the Valentine’s Day dance freshman year and how it felt to be held by Austin. The slide of his hands, rough and large, over my hips. The strength of his body when it pressed into mine. The natural rhythm he didn’t even have to try for as he guided me across the high school’s gym floor.
“I remember,” I say.
His expression softens. “I’m free for the weekend. And for the wedding in August.”
“I didn’t even tell you the date,” I laugh.
He grins. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll make it work. No pity dates for you, Chlo.”
I scrunch my nose at him, feeling all warm and gooey inside. “Thank you, Austin. Truly. But if you’re serious, you should know what you’re getting into. There’s an entire weekend itinerary planned. For the engagement party and for the wedding.”
He smirks. “Book us in. Steve’s going to beg for you back and I’m going to take great pleasure in watching you kick him down. A man who would pull that shit with you doesn’t deserve an ounce of your energy. Not a goddamn ounce.” His tone holds a severity that surprises me and I nod slowly.
“Amen to that.” Claire holds up her drink.
Noah gives me a searching look before flashing a quick grin. “You guys will have fun.”
“Fun,” I repeat, trying to remember the last time I felt even a flicker of hope for the future. This moment, I realize. I’m still dreading Marissa’s engagement party but now, my dread is mingling with a thrill of excitement.
Over the next hour, Indy grows tired and Noah decides they should head home. Easton and Claire aren’t far behind them.
“Listen to that laughter,” Austin comments when it’s just the two of us by the firepit.
I glance in the direction of the house, where Mom’s loud laughter followed by Joe’s booming voice, floats out through the open windows.
“They’re reminiscing,” I realize, smiling at the happiness threaded through our parents’ voices.
“Mom and Dad really missed your parents,” Austin says.
“Same,” I agree, recalling how hard it was for Mom to find her social footing without her bestie when we first moved to New York. “It’s nice to be back. Even if it’s just for the summer.”
Austin nods, his eyes searching mine for a moment.
I take a small sip of my wine, positively tipsy now. I’ve drunk more tonight than I have in the past year. Not counting the night I walked in on Steve and Brittney and encouraged Abbi to feed me whiskey until I vomited in a parking lot facing the Manhattan skyline. It was a low point in my life for sure. An entire expanse of dreams just across the river that I distanced myself from in order to support Steve. My early years in the city, living in my tiny walkup in Brooklyn, drinking my morning tea in a park filled with sunshine and open space and a community flower bed, seemed like another life but one I gave up on way too quickly when I met Steve.
Was I just as happy in the beautiful condo in Hoboken? The one with the pot-filler faucet and wide-planked hardwood floors that Steve was too worried about scratching to properly enjoy?
I squint at the flames, my memories hazy. I think I was happier alone, in Brooklyn, with no financial security, than dealing with the heartache of Steve’s betrayal in a luxury condo.
Austin clears his throat and I turn back toward him.
“You don’t have to stay,” I say, tilting my head toward his house. “I’m sure you have a lot to do tomorrow.”
“They’re going to be a while,” Austin comments as another peal of laughter wraps around us.
“It’s fine,” I murmur, tipping my head back to look up at the stars.
The balmy night air wraps around me, transporting me to freshman year of high school and old thoughts, memories of before. Silence ensues but I feel Austin’s eyes studying me.
“Want to play a board game?”
A slow smile spreads across my lips. “A game?” I don’t know why the idea strikes me as funny. It’s something Austin and I did a hundred times as kids. It’s familiar and comfortable and…so not what I expected from him tonight. “Sure,” I agree easily.
“Scrabble?”
“It’s one of my favorites.”
“I remember,” he murmurs and my heart rate ticks up the tiniest bit. “Come on, we’ll play in the den.” Austin stands and pinches the rims of his beer and my wine glass together to hold them in one hand. He extends his other hand to me.
I place my hand in his, my heart rate beating even faster, when his fingers encircle mine. His grip is gentle but the heat of his palm seeps into mine and a shiver rushes through me.
“You cold?” He frowns.
“No, no, I’m fine,” I rush to explain, feeling the heat in my cheeks. I drop my head, letting my hair fall forward.
But Austin wraps his arm over my shoulder and hugs me into his side as we make our way back to his parents’ house.
I breathe in deep, holding in the scent of a new, even spicier cologne in my lungs. Austin Merrick is all man. For a second, Mimi flickers in my mind and I snort, hating that even this time, she might be right. I’m definitely not too heartbroken to notice Austin Merrick. I don’t know if it’s possible to not notice him.
“What are you laughing at?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Just thinking of Mimi.”
“What about her?”
“I owe her a doughnut,” I explain as we step inside. “You sure you want to play Scrabble?”
“Don’t you?”
I nod. “It’s just…”
“What?” He heads over to the built-in shelving unit next to the fireplace and reaches into a cabinet.
“I write crossword puzzles,” I explain as I plop down next to the coffee table.
Austin turns, the Scrabble box in his hand. His brows are furrowed and his lips are pressed together like he’s trying not to laugh. “What?”
“For a living,” I say, peering up at him.
“Wait.” He drops the box in the center of the table and sits down on the floor across from me. “Your job is to write crossword puzzles?”
I nod.
Austin bursts out laughing, tipping his head back. The sound is deep and genuine, rumbling from his chest and erupting into the air like confetti. Tiny sounds of pure amusement and delight.
I smile at his response. “Why is that so funny?”
“Jesus.” He wipes the back of his hand over his eyes, as if wicking away a tear. “I missed you, Chloe. I missed you more than I ever realized.” He chuckles again, his eyes dancing when they find mine. Slowly, his laughter dies down and he shakes his head. “I think you’re the only person I know who could have that job and I’d believe them.”
“I know.” I wrinkle my nose, pleased that I managed to surprise him in some way. “It also means that I’m going to kick your ass at Scrabble.”
Austin opens the box. I place errant tiles back in the bag as Austin unfolds the board.
“I have no doubt,” he agrees. “How the hell did you find that job? Who do you write for?”
“The Brooklyn Gazette.”
“The newspaper?” He looks impressed.
“Yes. It sort of happened by accident.” I hold out the bag and Austin chooses seven tiles. “One of my college professors recommended me for a contest and one thing led to another…”
“Wow.”
“Funny how life happens, isn’t it?” I shake out seven tiles and place them on my stand, rearranging the letters. “I never thought I’d still be writing crosswords. By now, I figured I’d be doing more investigative journalism but…” I shrug, not wanting to tell him that nearly two years ago, I turned down an opportunity to spend time in Nigeria to follow and report on Boko Haram attacks and expansion.
It was the type of opportunity I would have eagerly jumped on several years before but when Steve pleaded with me to s
tand by his side as he angled for a promotion, I chose to support his career over mine. It’s a decision that still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Austin looks up, studying me for a long beat. His eyes hold mine, as if trying to uncover all the words I didn’t say. “Do you still want to? Do investigative journalism?”
I nod slowly. Since Steve’s betrayal, the thought has crossed my mind several times. But what do I even say to my boss, Janie, when I turned down an amazing opportunity two years ago? Back then, I saw the flash of disappointment in her expression and it’s bothered me ever since. I lick my lips and force a smile. “Two summers ago, I had the opportunity to travel to Nigeria, to write a piece for the paper on Boko Haram.”
Austin’s eyebrows bend together. “You didn’t go?”
I shake my head, embarrassment flooding me. “Steve was up for a promotion and had a series of functions he wanted me to attend…”
An awkward silence settles between us as we both acknowledge how much I allowed Steve’s life to outshine my own.
“It’s not too late,” Austin says finally. “If you still want to write articles, it’s not too late. But seriously, I never met anyone who writes crossword puzzles.”
I tip my head in his direction, appreciating the kind words and encouragement. “Yeah, well, you’re the only NHL captain I know.”
“You know other NHL players?” He narrows his eyes.
I snort. “The Scotch brothers. Your brother-in-law Mike.”
Austin smirks. “Not counting them.”
“No, there’s no need to rub it in.”
He chuckles.
“I was so happy when you guys won the Stanley Cup. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” he says, glancing at the board. His eyes lose some of their light and his lips pinch together.
“What is it?” I ask.
Austin shakes his head and glances up. “Honestly? Now that we won, I’m worried for next season. How the hell do we measure up when…”
“When you’ve already attained the goal?”
He nods. “It seems harder now. Maintaining a winning streak is a whole different level than trying to prove ourselves, to claim the win.” His eyes cloud over and for the second time, one of Mimi’s observations flickers through my mind. He always did carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. I laughed it off then but maybe…maybe Mimi was right.