The Plus One (Starting From Zero Book 3)

by Maggie Dallen

  Her grin was infectious. “We’re celebrating.”

  He lifted a brow. She’d been in a funny mood ever since she’d arrived. Or rather, she’d been bubbling over with happiness…it was him who was in the funk. Oh, he’d had an amazing time in bed. They’d been going at it like rabbits for a week and a half now and he was continually blown away by how hot the sex was. Impossible to believe but making love to Livvy was even better than he’d imagined it would be.

  And considering he’d spent the better part of four years imagining Livvy naked in his bed, that was saying something.

  No, the funk had set in after they’d cleaned themselves up and settled in on the couch. Avery had texted with a question about how he and Livvy were getting out to the wedding. She’d been planning on renting a car but was hoping to share the cost. He’d mentioned it to Livvy and she’d taken over the coordinating role, stealing his phone to text Avery back with the details.

  Apparently they were all going together. This weekend. Three days from now.

  Awesome.

  He could care less about modes of transportation or their costs. All he cared about was the ticking clock that was counting down the moments he had left with Livvy. They’d been nearly inseparable for ten days and he was no closer to declaring himself or having an epic breakthrough with Livvy than he had been a year ago.

  Irritatingly enough, her mood had grown increasingly chipper as his had spiraled. Her happiness rubbed him wrong, as if she was intentionally pouring salt into his wounds. Because she was well aware of the timeframe here, because she was the one who’d set the end date, but she was walking around his apartment texting Avery and chatting away about car rentals as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  And maybe she didn’t. Maybe she could honestly not care less that she would never see him again after the wedding. At least not like this. Sure, they’d probably run into one another at mutual friends’ events, but this amazingly perfect, blissful, pseudo-relationship would be over.

  She sat down next to him, beaming at him as she held her float out as if to cheers.

  “What’s this for?” he asked.

  “We’re celebrating.”

  Ouch. Yeah, they were celebrating, all right. Clearly they were not on the same wavelength if she was ready to celebrate and he was ready to stick his head in an oven. He tried to keep his irritation out of his voice and failed miserably. “What exactly are we celebrating?”

  Her smile turned knowing and tolerant, like he was some recalcitrant child. Like she was putting up with a temper tantrum…or a mood swing. Which he supposed she was, but still. The tolerant smile did nothing to help his mood.

  When she leaned in close so her lips brushed against his…well, that did help his mood, actually. It took his mind out of its negative spiral and straight into the gutter.

  “We’re celebrating the fact that neither one of us has to leave this apartment for the next twenty-four hours,” she whispered.

  He felt a smile tugging at his lips despite his best efforts to stay annoyed. She was right. She had the next day off work so he’d called in sick. In the grand scheme of things, twenty-four hours didn’t seem like a lot of time, but the fact that she was happy about their little self-declared sex holiday lifted his spirits immensely.

  Setting his mug down, he reached out to take hers and place it safely on the coffee table before tugging her into his lap. Her laugh wiped away the last of his foul mood and the kiss that followed made sure he forgot all about the fact that the timer was about to run out.

  Or, at least it would have if he hadn’t gone and ruined the moment. “We should play hooky together more often,” he murmured between kisses, too focused on the way her hands felt running over his bare chest to think about what he was saying. “Once a month, at least. It could be a monthly holiday.”

  “Mmm,” she agreed. “Monthly sexcapades, I like it.”

  He grinned as she adjusted her position so she was straddling his lap. For the first time since they’d started hooking up, he saw a glimmer of hope. Sure, they were only joking, but it was a start. Tugging her head back gently, he met her gaze. “What do you say? Should we extend the terms of our agreement?”

  Her smile was dazzling. His breath left him in a whoosh. “You want to extend our little…” She waved a hand in the air in lieu of words. Finally she settled on, “Arrangement?”

  He hadn’t been lying the other night when he’d said he could see everything in her eyes. Like right now, for example. He’d seen her honest-to-God joy at first, but now that happiness was tempered with something else. Wariness. Maybe even a hint of fear.

  Fuck.

  He struggled for a casual tone. “Sure, why not? We’re having fun, right?”

  Right? He was fairly certain he knew the answer to that. Yes, they were having fun. So what was the problem? And, more importantly, how did he get her to see that this could be more than just fun?

  It could be real.

  Her smile wavered a bit as she appeared to study him in return. Her gaze flickered over his face and narrowed on his eyes as if trying to read something there. Tucking some hair back behind her ear, she nibbled on her lip for a second. Then she shoved his shoulder with a laugh. “We agreed,” she said, shaking her head. “So no one gets hurt. So you don’t get sick of me. So—”

  “Why would I get sick of you?” He frowned at her, trying to figure out where this was coming from. But of course he knew. Ten days of intimacy, of getting to know each other again in a new way…and she still thought he was an irresponsible loser who would cheat on her or break her heart.

  The irony of the situation was not lost on him. Of the two of them, so far he was the only one to have his heart broken. And right now he had the horrible feeling it was about to happen all over again.

  She was blinking rapidly as if trying to process his question. As if perhaps she was stumped by it. He shifted so he was sitting up straighter and she edged off his lap, her gaze averted. “Seriously, Livvy. Why would you say that? Why do you think I’d get tired of you?”

  After a heartbeat she finally looked up and he saw confusion and exasperation written all over her face. “Because that’s what you do. It’s what you’ve always done. Face it, Drew, you’re not exactly known for long-term commitments.”

  He swallowed down his initial response, which was to burst into an angry tirade about how he’d never committed because he’d been pining for her. “And what, people can’t change?” He shook his head, running his hands through his hair as he tried to keep calm despite the wave of anger that surged back with a vengeance after that brief respite. “Don’t you think I might be capable of that sort of commitment for the right person?”

  Her lips parted as she stared at him. “Where is this coming from? I thought you agreed…I mean, I thought we were on the same page.”

  He came to his feet and paced toward the window, which overlooked an alley. Not much of a view, but he wasn’t really seeing it anyway. Taking a long, deep breath he tried to control his emotions. He’d come this far, he’d followed Avery’s ridiculous plan.

  And in an instant he saw with stark clarity what an idiot he truly was for thinking this would work. For thinking she could see him as anything other than a go-nowhere loser. Her funny musician friend who was only good for a laugh, a talk, a cry, and sometimes even sex. But heaven forbid he be considered for something more than that.

  The world as she knew it would come crashing down around her if she thought for one second that her good pal Drew might be boyfriend material.

  Her voice was tentative and shaky as it broke into his thoughts. “I don’t know what you want from me. I thought we were having fun.”

  He almost didn’t hear her over his own bitter internal monologue. Some of his anger dissipated at her hopeful tone. She wanted him to reassure her. But when his anger drained away all he was left with was resignation. He’d come this far in the stupid plan, might as well see it through even though he knew
without a doubt how this would end. With a sick feeling in his gut, he readied himself for another crushing rejection.

  “We are having fun,” he said, turning slowly. “But I want more.”

  He met her stricken gaze. Yeah. Just like he thought. There was no happiness there, no shared revelation. Just fear, and possibly horror.

  No, that wasn’t insulting at all.

  “You want more,” she repeated woodenly, her arms crossing over her chest as she hunched in on herself. “What do you mean more?”

  He let out a humorless laugh. “You know what I mean, Livvy. Don’t play dumb.”

  She bristled at that, her posture straightening. “I don’t know—I mean, I don’t know where this is coming from.”

  He took a step toward her, wishing he could pull her into his arms and shake some sense into her. This was good. What they had together was great. Amazing, even. They had the kind of connection that people spent a lifetime searching out.

  And she didn’t want it. Either she was blind to it or willfully ignorant.

  Or else she really didn’t feel it, too.

  He winced at that thought and saw the flicker of concern in her eyes. Closing the distance between them he lifted her chin so he could see her eyes. “It’s simple, Livvy. I want more. I want a relationship with you. The real deal. I always have and I always will.”

  Her eyes grew impossibly wide but she didn’t speak.

  Her silence was a knife in his gut.

  “You asked what I want from you?” he repeated.

  She pressed her lips together and gave a short jerk of her chin in his hand as a yes.

  “I need to know what you want.”

  She stared at him, her lips parting as if he’d just said something dazzlingly insightful or outrageously shocking.

  “It’s a simple question, princess. What do you want?” He let go of her chin and took a step back, folding his arms over his chest so they were mirroring one another. Two combatants in a silent showdown. His hope had died and with it a little piece of his soul. At least, that’s how it felt. Like something inside of him had shriveled up and died along with all his dreams of winning her over.

  It had been a stupid plan to begin with. But now he had to see it through.

  “What do I want?” she repeated, her voice breathless like she’d just run up a flight of stairs. Her arms dropped to her sides as she tugged at the hem of his T-shirt. “I-I don’t know. I mean…what do you mean?”

  He raised one brow at that. “You know what I mean. What do you want from me?” He resisted the urge to reach out to her once more. “If you had no doubts about me and my fidelity, if you could find it in your heart to trust me, what then? What would you want this to be?”

  She blinked rapidly again and he could practically see her mind racing. But that was the thing. He didn’t want her intellectual response, he wanted to know how she felt. What was in her heart.

  What he got was an itinerary.

  “It doesn’t matter what I want,” she said. “After the wedding I’m heading home for a month to spend some time with my family and then in the fall I’m going to law school.” She shrugged as if it was all out of her hands. As if that had answered anything.

  He shook his head with another humorless laugh. “So what, you’re telling me that what you want is to go to law school?”

  She stared back at him. He knew she couldn’t bring herself to say yes because he knew her better than she knew herself and one thing he’d always known? She didn’t want to be a goddamn lawyer any more than she truly wanted to be Jessie’s trophy wife. And that’s what he’d been searching for—a pretty young blonde from a good family with the right credentials who would make him look good among his med school colleagues.

  That wasn’t her and it never had been.

  It wasn’t Camille, either, but he’d enjoy watching Jessie figure that out.

  Livvy was scowling at him now, her brows pulled down low as his words hit their mark. “What’s wrong with law school? It’s a family tradition. My mother and father met at LSU.”

  “Mmhmm,” he said, starting to find some measure of solace in mockery. “But you hate the heat.”

  “So?”

  “You’ve said on multiple occasions that humidity makes you feel like a drowning seal.”

  She let out a huff. “Okay, now that’s just mean.”

  “Those were your words.”

  “I was kidding!” Her voice came out as a yell and he watched as she drew in a deep breath to collect herself. Rolling her eyes she crossed her arms again. “Are you seriously giving me a hard time about moving to Louisiana right now?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Because I’m trying to make a point. You don’t want to move to the south any more than you want to be a fucking lawyer.”

  “How do you know, I might have—”

  “Because I know, Livvy. I know you. I know what makes you happy. I know what makes you light up with excitement.” His breathing grew erratic and he started pacing the small apartment to let out some of the pent-up energy. “You know how I know?” he bit out, throwing the words over his shoulder.

  She shook her head.

  His pacing took him closer to her and he dropped his voice to a low growl. “I know because I’ve been paying attention. I know because you are the most fascinating person in my life. I know because I care.” He shook his head, the words were right there and even though he knew it was a mistake, they came out anyway. “I know because I love you, Livvy.”

  He stopped in front of her. She was as still as a statue and her eyes seemed frozen in their widened state. “You…”

  “I love you,” he said again, gentler this time because, like it or not, for better or worse, this was his one chance to say the words he’d been holding inside for so many years. And in case there was any doubt, he added, “I love you, Livvy. I’m in love with you.”

  The silence crushed him, but then he knew it would. He hadn’t expected to hear a similar response and he supposed he should be grateful for her silence. It was better than hearing her explain that she just didn’t feel the same way.

  Depression came hard and fast and brought exhaustion with it. Grabbing a T-shirt from his chest of drawers, he tugged it on along with a pair of faded jeans he’d discarded on the floor earlier when he’d taken her up against the wall.

  That had only been a few hours ago but it felt like a lifetime. He’d had his taste of heaven and now it was over. He’d gambled and lost.

  Like an idiot, he’d gone and erupted too soon. He had a few days left that he could have savored. But maybe that would have made this that much harder.

  As if that was possible.

  “Drew,” she said quietly. He felt her eyes on him as he headed toward the door. “Where are you going?”

  “Out.” He turned back to face her and let out a weary sigh at the tears that were sliding silently down her cheeks. “I won’t be back for a while. Take your time getting dressed.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Olivia had never actually suffered a traumatic brain injury but she assumed this was what it felt like to be catatonic. She was there at the wedding venue. A glass of chardonnay sat in front of her as she perched on a stool at one of the high tables that lined an outdoor dance floor. The day was mild but electric heaters lined the elegant venue just in case the weather dared to disobey.

  She sat alone. Lena had offered to come as her plus one but she’d told her not to bother. She’d go to the wedding, but she didn’t care what anyone thought of her single status, if they even noticed at all.

  She was there. Technically, her body had made it to the wedding. She was another body in the crowd of family and friends who were mingling over crab cakes. She was there, alive and breathing. But everything hurt. Well, just her chest hurt. And her head. And possibly her heart.

  The rest of her was numb.

  She’d been like this since leaving Drew’s apartment the other day, shell-shocked and so confused she d
idn’t know if she was coming or going. Maybe that was why her body and brain had shut down. They’d declared a timeout as the world went on around her. She’d gone to work. She’d gone about her day-to-day life. But she’d done it all as if looking through a lens. Like she was watching a movie. The Olivia Story: A Tale of Waitressing and Netflix. Not exactly an engrossing movie. Lena had tried to get her to talk but she couldn’t bring herself to tell her friend about that last showdown with Drew.

  Maybe because she knew that if she did, the tears she’d been holding back would let loose. And that couldn’t happen. She was holding it together, barely, but it was happening. The only upside of this catatonic state was that it made her senses deaden toward everything else in her life as well.

  Like right now, for instance. This was exactly the nightmare situation she’d been hoping to avoid. For months she’d agonized over the possibility of having to show up at this wedding dateless. But here she sat, single and alone. And what did it matter? For the first time in possibly forever, she couldn’t care less what everyone around her thought.

  Drew would have been proud.

  She shook off that thought which had carelessly slipped through the cracks of her numb shield. She’d managed to avoid thinking about him for days now. She hadn’t thought about him every second she was working, she made sure she was not thinking about him when she was home alone, and she absolutely refused to think about him when she was getting ready for bed each night.

  She sure as hell wouldn’t start now.

  Avery had come to collect her this morning as planned and she’d ridden in the backseat while Kimmie sat up front chatting away next to a surprisingly subdued Avery. The rest of their friends had made other car arrangements but because she, Avery, and Kimmie were all staying at the same hotel near the wedding venue, it had seemed to make sense that they travel together as well. Of course, when they’d made the plans, Drew was supposed to be their fourth passenger.

  Neither Avery nor Kimmie asked her where Drew was or why her date was missing in action. She didn’t know why, it seemed like the sort of thing they’d not only notice but pry into. But then, maybe they’d heard some gossip already or maybe Drew had told them straight up that she’d been lying from the start.