Neighbors (Twin Estates #1)

by Stylo Fantome

  “I can't,” she whispered back, pressing her hand to his chest.

  He stared at her for a long time and Katya felt like she was falling into a black hole. She'd already been knocked down by Wulf. If Liam turned his back on her, she wasn't sure what she'd do. Two support systems, gone in two days. She felt sick again.

  “Maybe when you're feeling better,” he suddenly said, then he kissed her on the nose before walking away. She suddenly became aware that she was holding her breath, and with a gasp of air she sat upright.

  “Liam, maybe we should -” she started to confront the situation, but he held up his hand as he sat down.

  “I have to call him back,” he interrupted. “Do you mind if it's in private this time? Sorry, I have a full schedule today.”

  “Oh. I'm really sorry, I had no idea. Yeah, totally, I'll get out of here,” she said quickly, standing up and gathering her things.

  “No, don't be sorry. I'll see you later, okay?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, sure. Okay.”

  “Angel cake.”

  She finally looked at him, just as she was about to leave.

  “Yeah, Liam?”

  “Thanks for the tacos.”

  Then he winked at her, and she felt a little better about the situation. She closed the door behind her as he picked up the phone and started dialing.

  Katya went home and spent the rest of the day feeling weird. Confused. Her phone was glued to her hand. She could remember calling Wulf during her drunk fest, and her phone's log said the call had been several minutes long, but she couldn't quite remember what she'd said. While Tori moaned and hobbled around the kitchen, Katya bit the bullet and called Wulf.

  “You've reached Stone.”

  She almost burst out laughing at his voice mail message. How appropriate, “you've reached stone” – because that's literally what a person was doing when they called Wulfric Stone. Reaching a man made out of cold hard rock. Carved out of marble. She didn't leave a message and let her phone fall beneath the couch.

  The girls huddled together on the sofa and shared a pizza. Tori finally got the whole story out of Katya – everything that had happened in Carmel. Around two in the morning, someone knocked softly on the front door. It could only be Liam, but neither of them said anything. Just waited in silence till he went away.

  “What are you going to do?” Tori whispered, after they'd moved into Katya's room and stretched out on her bed.

  “I don't know.”

  “You can't just keep … existing like this.”

  “That's a little dramatic, it's only been a couple days since we've talked.”

  “Show up at his work.”

  “I am not doing that.”

  “You have to do something, Katya. What happened to the girl from the profile, who walked into a sex club and took it up the back door?”

  “Jesus. If I'd known everyone would be so obsessed with my anal sex shenanigans, I wouldn't have done it at all.”

  “See! That's the kind of spunk I love seeing – this new, aggressive you! You like this guy. Really like him. So fight for him. Sounds like no one else in his life ever has, which really sucks. Maybe that's all he needs, to know that someone else will step up to bat for him,” Tori offered.

  Katya frowned. It was kind of true, Wulf had only ever had himself to depend on, and it was a very sweet sentiment. Which killed the whole idea before it could even get off the ground. Sweet and Wulf didn't mix. Orange juice and toothpaste were a better combination.

  “I don't really know how to be this way. I mean, it was always an act,” Katya tried to explain.

  “Bullshit. An act doesn't get two gorgeous guys falling all over themselves for you.”

  “Ummm, there's a lot of gold diggers out there who would beg the differ.”

  “That's my point – these guys don't want gold diggers, they would spot a faker a mile away. They reacted to you, this is the real you. The Evolution of Katya Tocci. Enjoy it. Embrace it. And then go get this guy, before you lose him for good.”

  Sage words from a hungover bartender. Tori fell asleep soon after her grand speech, but Katya stayed awake for a while. Staring at the ceiling and still trying to figure out what the fuck she was going to do. She had one day before she had to go back to work, and she had a big week – she had to be on her A-game. She may have been taking steps towards realizing her entire life didn't need to revolve around her career, but she was also proud of what she did and she wanted to put out good work. People had booked her in good faith, she would not let them down.

  I will not let these boys ruin me.

  20

  Tuesday went by with more crippling agony and self-doubt. She couldn't bring herself to take Tori's advice and confront Wulf, so she contented herself with staring at her phone and praying for him to call. Liam finally went the creepy route and let himself into her apartment with his master key set, but she didn't mind too much. He was back to his normal self, teasing her and laughing with her. They spent most of the day together at his apartment – her oven was STILL broken, she reminded him – trying to teach him how to make macarons.

  “Why do you want to learn how to make a French dessert?”

  “Because you like making desserts.”

  “So?”

  “And I like doing things you like.”

  She hadn't known how to respond to that, so she'd busied herself with the prep work. The macarons didn't turn out horrible – maybe not perfectly round, but they tasted delicious, and she assured Liam that in the end, that's all that really mattered in baking. She went home with a plateful, barely dodging a kiss before slipping through his door.

  Nighttime was rough. She couldn't quite keep her thoughts at bay. It hurt that she could so easily be disposed of. It had been a week. She'd actually gotten out a physical calendar and counted the days – Wednesday would mark one week since she'd last seen or spoken to Wulf. He wasn't returning her phone calls or texts. It was like he'd disappeared.

  Or like I died.

  It hurt. And not just to know that he didn't care for her the same way she cared for him, but also because it showed that he'd never cared about her. Not even as a friend. There were moments when he'd seemed so bright and perfect to her, she'd almost been blinded by him.

  She missed his voice. Missed him teasing her. Missed his tongue, the way it could burn a path across her body. His hands, squeezing and pinning and pulling. Missed seeing those all-too-rare smiles, and missed being happy when she put one on his face.

  Apparently, looking at him like he was a present wasn't enough. If I'd known he was gonna cut me out of his life completely, I never would've gone to that stupid restaurant.

  She took her time waking up on Wednesday morning. She wouldn't be in the bakery much that day – she had to go on-site to work with a client in their reception hall. She was glad because that meant work would be a bigger distraction than normal.

  She slid into a dark pair of skinny jeans, then pulled on a tight, long sleeved shirt. Red, with thin navy stripes. Not exactly punk rock, but a definite departure from pink cashmere and pearls. She left her hair down on a whim, pinning one side back away from her face, but that was it. She just coaxed a couple soft waves out of the tresses, then called it good. She grabbed her binder and her sketch pad, then took off.

  “Wow, Lauren,” she sighed when she walked into the building. “This place is gorgeous.”

  Lauren, the bride-to-be, hurried forward to take Katya's hands in her own.

  “Isn't it!? I can't believe I'm having my reception here. I never, in a million years, would've imagined myself here.”

  Lauren was a very special person. She was in her mid-forties with four children of varying ages. She'd lost her first husband to cancer when the youngest kid had been a newborn, but nothing kept Lauren down. She'd rallied, gotten a second job, then took night classes so she could become a vet tech. She was fun loving and had a big laugh, forcing everyone around her to be in a good mood.

&nbs
p; Including, it turned out, the vet at the first clinic she interned for – “San Francisco's best vet”, as he was hailed by multiple news sources who cared about that kind of thing. The man had more money than he knew what to do with, so he'd decided to share it all with Lauren and her kids, whom he'd taken into his home like they were his own.

  So if anyone deserved a huge wedding and a reception hall that probably cost more to rent than one of Katya's paychecks, it was most definitely Lauren. They'd clicked instantly, from the first time she'd come into the bakery, a year and a half before – she'd seen a magazine featuring one of Katya's designs. One picture, and she'd just known that's who needed to make the cake on her special day.

  “It's beautiful, Lauren, I'm so happy for you. And I'm super excited about this cake!”

  Katya had brought a rolling trolley with her. It was filled with samples. Lauren was working in a medical clinic and getting away was hard, so they'd agreed to do the tasting and designing at the reception hall, a halfway point between their two jobs.

  “And I'm super hungry. I'll eat, you look around, and then we can talk about my design.”

  Katya set up the samples on a high table, then left her client to eat while she walked around the building. She made notes as she went, poking around the kitchen area. Lauren wanted a massive cake – the main one would have six layers, and then there would be two satellite cakes, each with four layers. The layers were all four inches thick. It was a monster and Katya wanted to make sure it could be safely delivered to the hall, or else she'd have to assemble and decorate it there in the morning, which she really didn't want to do.

  Luckily, there were huge loading doors that opened directly into the kitchen, and then double doors could be propped open leading into the hall. She could bring the cakes all in one piece, load them onto carts, then wheel them onto the floor. Easy peezy.

  “Looks good, Lauren. This is a great space,” Katya said, jotting down notes as she hurried across the huge ballroom.

  “I told you! Did you see the chandelier? And those stairs in the lobby?” the other woman squealed. Katya nodded, trying to remember the measurements for the cake. While she flipped through her notes, she heard the doors at the front of the room open. She glanced up, then returned to her notepad as a group of men and two women walked into the room. Another party wanting to look over their rental space.

  “Yeah, it's amazing. I'm excited – I've never seen a wedding here,” she said, sliding onto a stool and putting down her pad.

  “Oh, well, you'll see mine here,” Lauren said around a mouthful of red velvet. “You'll love it. Champagne fountain, sprays of lilies and hyacinth everywhere. And white. Head to toe white. I'll be in white, my bridesmaids will be in white, you'll be in white – I cannot wait.”

  “Okay then, so buy a white dress,” Katya laughed, jotting that down in her notes.

  “Definitely. A little white dress. What flavor is this one, the pink? I love it!”

  “Strawberry lemonade, I thought it might be fun. For the satellites, you can choose a filling to match whatever flavor you pick, but for the main, I wouldn't ...”

  Katya's voice died off. Lauren glanced at her, then did a double take and put down her fork. Patted her friend on the arm and said her name a couple times.

  “I'm sorry,” Katya breathed. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I just need to say hello to an old friend.”

  She stepped down from the stool, then took a couple steps onto the dance floor. Was impressed with how calm and composed she was – she wasn't shaking. She wasn't trembling. Sure, when she'd first heard that laugh, a laugh she'd never heard often enough, it had rocked her a little. Shocked her into movement. But she was calm. And she was composed.

  “Wulfric.”

  The party that had entered the room had moved to within a couple yards of her tasting. What they were doing there, she didn't know. Was Wulf throwing a party? Were those his business associates? She flicked her eyes down to where his hand was resting on the one woman's hip.

  “Hello,” he said, his smile still in place. It made her feel sick. “What a small world. Gentlemen, Natasha – this is Katya Tocci. We used to be neighbors.”

  That was his introduction. She'd slept next to him and seen him naked and he'd been inside her, and that's what she got? They were neighbors?

  “Do you work here at the reception hall?” one of the men asked in a polite voice. Her eyes didn't move away from Wulf's.

  “No, I'm here with a client, going over some wedding details,” she answered.

  “Ah, yes. Ms. Tocci here is a baker!” Wulf explained.

  His voice was heavy with condescension – he was saying it to be rude. Putting down her profession. He'd never cared about what she did, before – he'd once told her he wouldn't give a shit if she pumped gas for a living, that's not what their relationship was about. Yet here he was, using it as a weapon to undermine her. To put her down.

  “I am. I design and make wedding cakes,” she said proudly.

  “That's cute,” the other woman said. “My son is having his eighth grade graduation in a week, maybe you could make him a little something!”

  “Can I speak to you?” Katya blurted out, her voice loud in the room. She swore she could hear it echo. The painted on smile never left Wulf's face as he removed his hand from the other woman and placed it on the small of Katya's back, guiding her away from the group.

  “Do not create a scene,” he whispered when they were out of hearing range from his friends.

  “Are you shitting me!?” she hissed, slapping his hand away as she turned to face him. “What the fuck is going on, Wulf?”

  “I didn't know you'd be here,” he assured her. “I wouldn't have come if I'd known. This building is for sale, those people are looking to buy. That's it.”

  “That's it? That's it!? I haven't spoken to you in a week, you won't return my calls, my messages, my voicemails, nothing, and that's it?” she demanded, folding her arms across her chest.

  “I am at work, Tocci. You're at work. We have clients here. Act like a professional,” he warned her.

  Act like a professional? Oh, Wulfric. Katya had moved way beyond acting like anything. She gave literally zero fucks. Her anger had reached its boiling point.

  “Don't you ever fucking tell me what to do!” she snapped at him, and was pleased when he looked shocked. “And act like a professional!? HA! I'll do that when you learn how to act like a human being.”

  “Watch your fucking mouth,” he growled.

  “Fuck you.”

  “We've done that dance.”

  How did we get to this point? From laughing and playing in my bedroom, to hurling swear words at each other in front of strangers? Who is this person in front of me?

  “What did I do to you?” she suddenly whispered, catching him off guard. She cleared her throat and spoke again. “I was nice to you. I was kind to you. I never asked for more than you were willing to give. I'm sorry I told you how I felt, I'm sorry if I made things awkward. I would have apologized to you a week ago, but you wouldn't let me. You wouldn't even do me the courtesy of just ending it. No, you were too busy being a mean, nasty, hurtful, asshole. What did I ever do to you to deserve that!?”

  By the end, she was yelling. Before, their voices had been at a level where it was obvious the conversation was intense, but still within the realm of polite. Now, the cat was out of the bag. She was shouting and breathing hard and probably red in the face.

  And she wasn't the only one.

  “Asshole? I'm an asshole? I have bent over backwards for you,” he yelled back. “I was nice to you. I went to your home. I met your goddamn mother. I let you fuck some other guy, almost the entire time we were together, and I never said shit! Didn't fucking complain once. And I'm the bad guy? Sorry, Tocci. You've got it backwards. You're the asshole.”

  “Me!?” she shrieked. “You should've said something! Wulfric fucking Stone, so high and mighty, looks down on everyone else, treats
us all like we're peasants, and you couldn't even fucking open your mouth and just tell me what you were feeling!”

  “I didn't have to tell you shit.”

  “Maybe if you had, you could've learned that I stopped sleeping with him – weeks ago!”

  “I don't owe you anything.”

  She shoved him in the chest.

  “No, you don't feel anything, that's the problem.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “We've done that dance,” she mocked him.

  “Yeah, you have done that dance with me – and who knows who else.”

  She slapped him across the face, then stepped up close to him.

  “You're a pussy,” she growled. “Mad at me for seeing someone else. Scared of what I was feeling for you. Scared you might be feeling something for me. So you ran away. Pussy.”

  She didn't wait for his response. The moment was too much. She was most definitely not this girl, no matter what Tori, or Liam, or some made up profile, said about her. She stepped around him and strode back to her table.

  “Tough talk, Tocci,” he called her out, matching her step for step. “Is that the first time you've ever said that word?”

  “Just go away,” she grumbled, grabbing at her notepad and pens and sketchbook, trying to ignore the fact that everyone else in the room was staring at them with rapt attention.

  “No. You started this, so I'll fucking finish it. You want to know what the real problem is?”

  “No.”

  “You're a scared little girl, who decided she needed to get fucked. So you went out and found a man. Found two men. So much attention for little Katya Tocci! The dull girl from next door scores with the hot older neighbor. But the moment I take some space for myself, you freak the fuck out. Did you think we were special? That you were my girlfriend?” he started laughing at her. “You knew what we were from the beginning. You're the one who slipped those panties into my pocket. You knew exactly what you were getting into. Stupid fucking girl. Gets fucked right and thinks she's in love. Pathetic. I hope you -”