Including me.
I closed the town car door and crossed the sidewalk towards the revolving door.
“Peyton!” I heard a familiar voice shout my name. Devon walked towards me, wrapping her arms around me and kissing my cheek. “Are you alone? Are you busy?”
If my mind hadn’t been focused on seeing Braelynn again, I might have stayed in the car long enough to avoid Devon, my ex-girlfriend from college. But she was also my younger sister’s best friend and our parents were close friends.
“I just finished with court. What are you doing here?”
We were friendly—at times. I’d ended things right after our college graduation when I realized being with her was more a chore than enjoyment and that the sex between us was mindless rather than mind-blowing. We went to separate grad schools, and then she moved to DC shortly afterward, but in the past two years she had tried to finagle her way back into my life. Her unannounced visits and the naked selfies she’d text me were irritating. But it wasn’t until Braelynn stepped into my life that I realized I wanted nothing more to do with Devon. That only seemed to fuel her efforts to be around as much as possible, though, which annoyed the fuck out of me.
“I’m here this weekend for Spencer’s fashion show. Can I steal you away to grab some coffee? I haven’t talked to you in so long and we won’t really have time to chat on Saturday.”
“Actually Dev, I have work to catch up on. Why don’t you come up?”
She didn’t hesitate, leading the way through the revolving doors. Devon and I made our way through the lobby and up the elevator. She explained how her parents had been and how work was going. Melissa eyed us as we passed her desk, but I focused on Braelynn. Her head was down, and she appeared to be engrossed in the book she was reading.
“She works here?” Devon questioned, stopping at my office door. Her snarky tone did not go unnoticed.
“Don’t start, Devon.”
She threw her head back and laughed, placing her hand on my shoulder. Braelynn’s head snapped up from her studies and she regarded Devon, who was walking further into my office. Braelynn’s gaze moved to lock on mine for a few seconds before she looked back at the textbook on her desk. The look she gave me wasn’t the same as when I kissed her goodbye this morning. She seemed pissed.
I walked around to sit behind my desk and Devon took the chair in front of me. “What do you want to talk about, Devon?” I folded my hands on the desktop.
“Don’t worry, Haas baby, your girlfriend can see us, so I’ll be on my best behavior. But I’m staying at the Plaza if you want to swing by later. I’ll make sure to leave you a key.” She glanced towards Braelynn’s office and then back at me, her arms pressing her chest together. “I know how boring sex can be with someone who is so young and immature. You wouldn’t be rocking my cradle.”
“You know, sometimes you’re a real bitch.” I rubbed the back of my neck.
“I know.” Devon smiled. She leaned across the table and gripped my hand. “I love you, Peyton. You know that. I’ve loved you since I was five, but I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize our friendship. Unless you asked.” She winked at me. “And you know I’m very good at keep secrets.”
She released my hand and went back to talking about her job, her booked weekend with my sister, and how she missed living in Manhattan. Devon talked while I sat there, counting the minutes until I could go speak with Braelynn again.
Braelynn
Devon walked out of Peyton’s office and headed towards the elevator. Even her walk was freaking perfect. God, I hated that woman. I knew from the headache forming inside my forehead that my eyebrows were scrunched together. My hands locked in fists thinking about her laughing with him, touching his shoulder, reaching across the table to grab his hand. How she threw her head back so her hair could bounce, exposing her perfect tits—bitch!
She had walked out of the elevator with him and though her arms weren’t locked around his, they had walked in close proximity. The second my eyes spotted them I began to see red. I had no reason to hate her. Not really. Okay, that’s a lie. I had every reason to hate the bitch. She was Peyton’s ex who still wanted him—I couldn’t blame her for that. But she made me livid being around her. Especially since the night she cornered me at the grocery store, judging my healthy love for all things chocolate and ice cream.
Peyton left his office and headed towards mine. Taking some deep, calming breaths, I tried to look busy reading the sample questions in front of me. Question 16: A man borrowed money from the bank. I read the same sentence seven times. Seven!
Peyton entered my office and sat on the edge of my desk. When I didn’t look up or acknowledge his presence, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Braelynn…”
“Nothing,” I repeated sternly.
“You’re lying to me.”
My face cocked up to his, my arms instantly crossing over my chest as a defense mechanism. “What does it matter?”
“Does this have to do with Devon?”
“Whatever, Peyton. I’m busy.” I averted my attention back to my questions. Question 16. A man borrowed money from a bank.
His fingertips pushed loose tendrils of hair behind my ear. “Tell me what I did to make you so flustered.”
My knee shook underneath my desk. I wasn’t flustered; I was pissed. That morning we were tangled up in his bed, panting as we both came, I gave him a blow job just because, and hours later he was flirting with the wench. “I’m not flustered. You were flirting!” I tried to hold my anger in, but it was pointless.
“Flirting?” He chuckled. He pulled me from the chair and into his arms, his hands locked around my lower back. “I like that you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous!” I slammed my hand on his chest. “Ugh, I’m not a fan a hers.” He continued to laugh at my outrage. “It’s not funny.”
“I thought I was doing the right thing, bringing her up here. She walked into the building the same time I did, wanting to grab coffee and catch up. I told her I was busy, but we could talk in my office. You know, where you could see.”
“Did you fuck her?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. The pain I felt in my chest was consuming me. I needed to know if she was one of the girls he fucked while we weren’t together.
“Braelynn–”
When he couldn’t give me a straight answer, my heart began to palpitate. “Did you fuck her when we weren’t together?”
“No. I haven’t been with Devon since college.”
I pushed away from his grip. If it wasn’t Devon, who was it? “Sammie?” My mind raced to name any other female I could connect him with. Hell, if I Googled his name I was more than positive I could link him to a hundred different images.
“We shouldn’t be discussing this.”
The fact that he chose not to tell me only made want to know more. Why was it a big secret? We both knew we were with other people. Why couldn’t he tell me who he was with? “I want to know. Who did you fuck?”
“Does it matter? You were with other men.”
“That’s not the point!” I shouted and turned to walk away from him.
“Then what is? You want to have this argument here? Right now?” He closed the gap between us, rage coursing through my body. “I stopped you from fucking two different people at the same time. While you were high! I don’t even want to know what else you did,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
“Who did you fuck?” I asked again, my hands firmly placed at my waist.
His hands ran through his hair. Exhaling, he looked away from me. “They were strippers.” His voice was so low I barely heard him.
“They?” Clearly more than one, and exotic dancers. “Strippers? Well, isn’t that fucking fantastic.”
“Don’t judge me. God only knows what you were doing!” He tried to turn the tables back on me, but I wasn’t letting him.
“That’s different!”
“How so? I slept with them the weekend you left home. I was drunk, lonely, and like a pussy, heartbroken because you’d left. You ran, and not towards me. You pushed me away when all I wanted to do was help you. What the fuck was I supposed to do? I told you from the get-go that I didn’t know how to be in a relationship. That I wasn’t good at it. Did you expect me to wait around until you came back?”
“You doubted me!”
“You had no memory and an open wound on your arm from heroin! The cops found pictures of you and credit card receipts! What the fuck was I supposed to think? All that shit was dumped on me in a matter of hours.”
“Ugh! This is why we can’t work together.” I began to pack my paperwork back in my tote.
“We’re not done talking.”
“You may not be, but I am! I had sex to block my feelings, to block out the pain of not knowing. To block out the love I had for you.” My hands worked fast, shoving every piece of paper that was on my desk in my bag.
“That’s exactly what I did.” His hands slammed against his chest. “I drank to forget you. I fucked them to block you out of my mind. Anytime you crept into my mind that weekend I drank more. When I was finally sober, I felt like shit. I, unlike you, regretted the whole thing.”
“Whatever, Peyton. I have to go.” I secured my tote strap higher on my shoulder and marched out of the office. Without a single goodbye to anyone, I walked onto the elevator. I was furious. Tears of rage swam in my eyes as I made my way out of the building.
“Ms. Wolf,” Thomas called after me when I left PH Esquire and avoided making eye contact. I didn’t want to deal with anything that had to do with Peyton Haas. “Ms. Wolf, please let me take you to your destination.” I ignored him and walked faster down the city block. “Ms. Wolf, if I don’t take you to your destination, it will be my job on the line.”
“Seriously!” I turned back towards Thomas. It wasn’t his fault his boss was an ass. “Fine you can take me home, but that’s it!”
When I slammed the door to the town car outside my house, I was furious. No, livid. Scratch that—I was a raging bitch looking to wreak havoc. Since I wasn’t able to walk home to clear my mind, I’d had to settle for the back seat of a car. Five minutes. That’s all it took to get me in this mood. Of course, I couldn’t have a moment to myself to walk a few city blocks in broad daylight.
But it’s for your protection.
“Fuck!” I shouted, walking up the stairs to the front door. Jamming my key in the keyhole, I opened the door and quickly slammed that one too. My mood was sour and there was only one way I knew how to fix it. Ice cream.
I tossed my tote on the couch, kicked off my heels and found my way to the kitchen. Pulling out three pints from the freezer—yes, three!—I popped each lid and grabbed a spoon from the drawer. Sampling each flavor of Talenti’s best, I let the creamy sugary treat calm me.
“Oh shit.” A sleepy Kennedy peered out of her bedroom and into the kitchen, her eyelids heavy. She yawned, stretching her limbs before she spoke. “What did he do now?”
“Ugh!” My knee bobbed with anger and I cracked each of my knuckles.
“What did Peyton do, Lynn? Three pints of ice cream is a new record for you. Was the kink too much for you?” She laughed. It was true. Usually, all I needed was one to make me feel better, or two was when I was extremely sad. Three had never happened until that stupid I’m–so–tall–and–pretty–look–at–my–beautiful–hair, Devon showed up to his office.
“He’s an ass.”
Kennedy added a Kurieg cup to our coffee machine. While waiting for it to brew she turned back towards me, her arms resting on the countertop.
“His ex showed up at his office and they were flirting.” Even I had to admit after I said it out loud that I sounded like a teenager.
“And that made you want to eat three pints of ice cream?”
“No. We argued and I asked if he slept with Devon when we … when I was … you know, cracked out on pills.”
“And?”
“They didn’t. But the asshole slept with strippers instead. I got pissed and left the office.” Kennedy curled her lips up, pouting. I knew that look. “Don’t look at me like that. I know I have no right to judge, but I was high and looking for an outlet. What’s his excuse?”
“People in glass—”
“Houses shouldn’t throw stones. I know, but I’m jealous. I don’t want anyone else to be with him. And yes, I spent the last five days in his house playing house, but if someone was to ask me what Peyton is to me, I can’t answer it. Are we friends? Fuck buddies? Or is this a pity fuck for him. Fuck poor Braelynn because she just got out of rehab and we don’t want her to relapse.”
“Braelynn! You know that you mean the world to him. You both need to sit and have a serious conversation.”
Ding-dong.
“Speak of the devil,” I stated when I heard the doorbell ring. I shoveled another spoonful of the mint chocolate chip.
“Did you think you could storm out and he wouldn’t follow?”
“No…”
Ding-dong.
Ding-dong.
“Coming!” she shouted. Kennedy walked out of the kitchen and towards the front door. I stayed put. If he wanted to talk, he would come to me. Childish, I know. “Ooooh, you’re in trouble,” I heard Kennedy joke.
“Can I come in?” His tone was serious.
“Yep, she’s in the kitchen. I’ll give you two some privacy.” Kennedy walked down our long hallway and into her bathroom. Within seconds of the bathroom door closing, she had her radio blasting.
“Still mad?” Peyton asked, leaning on the opening that connected the kitchen to the living room.
“A little.”
“Can I have a spoon?” He looked at my ice cream, and a smirk appeared on his face. “Or maybe we can take it in your room and I can lick it off your body.”
“Not happening, buddy. You’re in the doghouse. You don’t get a spoon or me.”
“I can live with no spoon, but without you …” He prowled towards the island where I was sitting, and stuck out his hands. “Take me to your bedroom.”
“Peyton, I told you. No sex. I’m pissed.”
“I didn’t say I wanted to have sex. Though make-up sex would be nice.” His mouth cocked a smile and he winked at me. “I’ve never been in your room. We need to talk and I’d like to do it there. And then maybe we can have make-up sex. Or angry sex works for me too.”
“You’re an ass.” I covered my pints and put them back in the freezer. I didn’t wait for Peyton; I marched down the hallway, heading straight into my bedroom. It was the size of his closet, but I thought it was cute. I sat on the bed and waited for him to enter.
Peyton closed the door behind him and joined me on the foot of the bed. The anger and hatred I felt vanished the second his hand grasped my cheek.
“I’m sorry.” He waited a few seconds before he continued. “I’m not good with relationships, Braelynn. The only one I ever had was with Devon, and even so, it wasn’t anything like this. Like us.”
I swallowed the golf ball-sized lump that was lodged in my throat and looked up at him. “I’m going to fuck up at times, and I know we’ll argue, but I can’t take back what I have done.”
“I know…”
Devon is not a part of my life. She is an acquaintance. She’s here because my sister is having a fashion show this weekend. She came by the office to see if I was going. That’s all.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” I shrugged my shoulders.
“But I do. You thought I was flirting when I wasn’t. I need you to know that I only want you in my bed. Or this bed,” he joked.
“It’s fine, seriously. I overreacted. I’m sorry too.”
Rubbing my cheek, he leaned forward and laid his lips soft on mine. “I have something else to ask you,” he murmured against my mouth. “My mother is bugging me to go to this fashion show and I’d like for you to come with me.”
>
“Okay…”
“As my girlfriend.”
The butterflies in my stomach fluttered. “I have one condition.”
“Shoot.”
“Come with me to therapy.” His eyebrows furrowed. “We have bigger issues than most couples. And if we are going to make this … relationship work, I think we need therapy. There is too much water under the bridge.” His eyebrows relaxed and his eyes grew bright.
His lips met mine, and smiling between each kiss, he agreed. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do, doll.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and deepened our kiss. Any anger, frustration, or doubts I had were gone. Out the window as I kissed my boyfriend for the first time.
Braelynn
Saturday Night
Peyton had left his bedroom, heading towards the bar next to the kitchen as he let me finish getting ready. It was the first time I was able to dig through all my beautiful gowns he had purchased for me. I pulled out a Gucci rose dress. The plunging neckline was lower than I wanted, but the back of the dress was higher and it would cover my tattoo. It was the first time I was meeting his mother and I didn’t want the ink to frighten her away.
Once the dress was on I felt like a Hollywood starlet. The dress hugged my curves and the beaded work around the torso made it shine. I had spent hours on my make-up and hair. My lips were plum red and my curls fell to my left side as the right was pinned back a little. I took one last turn in the mirror, exhaling to calm my nerves about meeting Peyton’s family, and joined him in the kitchen.
My satin Jimmy Choo heels clicked against the marble kitchen floor. Peyton looked stunning in his Dior custom-made suit with a crisp white shirt and perfect bow tie. He sipped his amber malt scotch, his eyes devouring me. He put his glass in the sink and strolled towards me, his eyes never leaving my body. My skin burned as my boyfriend sauntered towards me. His fingertips traced the outline of my jaw before lifting my chin. My core begin to ache.
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