by Kendall Ryan
My face is getting hot. I’m angry.
He said we were going to talk this morning. “Meet me in an hour,” he said. Well if he thinks I’m going to wait around while he screws his girlfriend, he must be confusing me with some push over. I scoot out of my chair, get up, and find myself storming back up the steps to my room.
By the time I reach my room, my vision is all blurry. I wipe away tears as I close the door and drop down on the bed. How had I allowed myself to get so worked up? I think back to how Sophie said Colton thought Collins loved me. I hadn’t meant to, but I must have grabbed on to that. It had snuck its way into my subconscious, and made me think I had a shot, that happily-ever-afters do exist.
Hell, it isn’t just that. He led me to think I have a shot. What other reason do we have to talk? If he isn’t interested, then there isn’t anything to talk about, so why does he want to talk?
But this question no longer matters. I have all the answers I need in the form of him currently screwing his girlfriend. Why else did they need to suddenly retreat to the bedroom alone together?
I stand up and find my suitcase, and open it on the bed. The answer is finally forcing its way through my thick skull.
It’s time to go home.
Chapter Eleven
Collins
I follow Tatianna upstairs, intent on finishing our conversation. Her little stunt with the banana tells me she thinks we’re coming up here to sweep everything under the rug.
When we enter our bedroom, I close and lock the door. She turns to me, smiling, not at all in tune with how frustrated I am. As if to avoid any further discussion, Tatianna pulls her tank top over her head and shimmies out of her shorts.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask.
“I’ve been away for two days, and now we’re about to be separated again. I thought that’s why you wanted to come upstairs.”
Before she can unclasp her bra, I stop her. “No. I want to talk. Sit down.” I gesture to the bed, and Tatianna reluctantly sits on the edge of it. I hand her the shirt she just took off and watch as she puts it back on. Her eyes latch onto mine, and her smile fades. I don’t have time for her games right now. She’s used to pouting her lip and getting whatever she wants.
“Where is this going, Tatianna? You and me?”
“What…what do you mean?” she asks, looking confused.
I’ve never posed a question like this before, never talked of our future, but I think maybe it’s time. “I think we need to discuss this relationship. What do you want out of this? What are your goals?” I ask.
“My goals?” She chews on her lip. “I don’t know, to be on the cover of InStyle magazine, to walk all the biggest shows in New York and Milan fashion week next year.”
For the first time in my life, I feel a hole inside of me. A hole that deepens and grows larger with each passing heartbeat. Booking over our trip to Paris only reinforces the fact that I don’t rank on her list of priorities. Her future goals mentioned nothing about me, about us, and only included herself. It’s typical Tatianna, but it’s starting to really fucking bother me. She has no expectations for the future, and while most bachelors in my position might like the no promises, no attachments arrangement we have, I find that I don’t anymore. I want to hear her say she can’t live without me and that she needs me. We’ve been together for several years now, and things shouldn’t be quite so casual between us. We’ve never even said I love you. I look her over, taking in the way her long blonde hair falls nearly to her waist, her almond shaped blue eyes, and painted red lips. I care about her—I would hate to see any harm come to her. However, I worry that I don’t feel as strongly as I should. We’ve been dating long enough that I should know by now if I love her.
When Mia looks at me, I feel more heat and emotion between us than I do between me and my girlfriend of three years. And Mia’s only been back in my life a handful of days. That realization causes something within me to stir. This disconnect that’s been building between Tatianna and me rises to the surfaces and demands attention. I want more. A lot fucking more. I mean, there has to be more than this, right? Mia’s hope-filled eyes told me there was—if I’m man enough to embrace it. My life has been devoid of emotion for the last several years as my attention has been focused on growing my business, and yes, I’ve had my needs met with a warm, willing female to share my bed, but it’s lacked any real intimacy.
Tatianna is watching me with a pouted lip, obviously wondering if I’ve lost my mind. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get me either. That would involve looking outside herself, which she never does.
Mia picked right up on my tense mood this morning in the kitchen, asking me if I was okay. I blamed it on last night’s scotch, but the truth was ever since she walked back into my life, looking downright sinful, my head has been spinning.
I sit down on the bed a few feet from Tatianna and consider taking her hand, but we aren’t really the hand holding type, so instead I run my palm across the back of my neck.
“Look, Tatianna...” I start, but am at a loss for words. For the first time in my life. I need to tell her what I want. The problem is, I’m not sure I fucking know what that is.
In the week ahead, we’ll be on different continents, perhaps now is the time to take a break and consider the future of this relationship. I have no idea how she’s going to take this, but it has to be done.
“I want us to both take this week to think about our relationship and what we each want. When I get back from Paris, we’ll make a decision about our future.”
“Why does that sound so depressing?” she asks.
“Don’t you think it’s strange that after three years of dating, we’ve never examined where this was going?”
“I like being with you,” she says, trying to smooth things over. “Why mess with a good thing?”
Except this wasn’t a good thing anymore, at least not for me. But dealing with my relationship status means I’ll have to face my future with Mia. Am I ready for that? Fuck, she’s a friend and I wouldn’t want to wreck that. I’d definitely need this week to consider where I was headed and with whom. I’ve never even considered marriage with my girlfriend of three years, and Mia’s back in my life for a week and I’m rearranging everything just to keep her here. That speaks volumes.
“I’m going to ask Mia to join me in Paris,” I say.
“I don’t have anything to worry about with her, do I?” Tatianna asks, her eyes narrowing on mine.
I shake my head, unable to put into words all that’s running through my brain.
Tatianna rises from the bed and steps closer. “We’re good together, Collins. You know we are.” She reaches down and grabs onto my crotch, rubbing lightly. My dick doesn’t respond.
“Don’t,” I warn.
She shakes her head. “Take this week, and think things over if you want. But I will be here when you get back.” Her hand curls around my cock, squeezing lightly. “And don’t let her lay a finger on this.”
I rise from the bed and stand there, unsure if there’s anything more to say.
Tatianna plays with the long tresses of her hair, and the stack of diamond bangles I bought her clink together on her forearm. She doesn’t seem the least bit upset.
“I need to go talk to Mia,” I say and head for the door.
Chapter Twelve
Mia
Other than the airfare and the cab ride to Collins’ house, I haven’t purchased a thing since I got here. So why won’t my goddamn bag close? I put both my forearms on the top of my suitcase and lean all my weight on it, but there are still several inches between the zipper’s teeth. I’ll never get this thing closed.
“Shoot,” I say aloud and lean back to flip the case open again.
Right on top is my old scrapbook. It’s thick, bursting with photos, clippings and other keepsakes. I plop down next to my bag on the bed and leaf through it. It’s filled with mementos from my childhood. I’d never meant for it to be a histor
y of my friendship with Collins, but now I see that it is. We were best friends for so long that I guess it makes sense.
Photos of Collins and me goofing off at the county fair, age six.
Collins and me laughing our butts off in his parents’ pool, age eight.
Ticket stubs from our first live concert, which he purchased for my thirteenth birthday.
The picture of the lavender wedding dress. I pause at the photo. Such an elegant dress, silk with just a hint of lace.
Now, none of this matters. An entire history wiped away because Collins doesn’t have the time to talk to me. He can’t even get through breakfast without running off to screw his supermodel girlfriend. He obviously doesn’t care, so why should I?
I slam the book closed and hurl the stupid thing at the door, but miss. It strikes the wall with a whap, then falls to the floor. The bedroom door bursts open, and Collins pokes his head in, looking worried. “Mia?” he says. “Sorry, I was just outside and I heard a loud noise.” He opens the door all the way and looks at me.
My arms are folded as I sit on the bed and glare at the scrapbook lying on the floor. He follows my gaze down, then looks back at me and takes a step inside the room.
“What’s wrong?” He looks past me at my suitcase. “Are you leaving?”
I bite my lip, knowing that I don’t have any right to be mad at him. Yet I am. “Did you have fun with Tatianna?” I ask, realizing I sound like a crazy chick, but not caring. Because he’s the one who said we should talk. So now I’m ready. Let’s put it all out there. Let’s talk.
He looks thoughtful for a moment. “What are you...? Mia, do you think I just ... with Tatianna?” He can’t bring himself to say it, but he doesn’t have to.
I see in his eyes that he knows what I was thinking. I can also tell from the look on his face that he did not just have sex with Tatianna. I go from feeling angry to feeling like an idiot and a jerk.
I cover my face with my hands. “Collins, I’m sorry. I’m a freaking mess.”
He picks up my discarded scrapbook and carries it over, sitting next to me on the bed. “Silly Gremlin.” He nudges me with his shoulder. “Always letting your imagination run wild.”
I cross my legs and turn to face him on the bed. “I can’t help it. Whenever we’re together, I guess I get a little carried away.”
He chuckles and takes my hand. The touch sends warmth all the way up my arm. “You aren’t the only one affected when we’re together.” He glances at my mouth, then meets my gaze. I lick my lips. He’s just inches away, and I think he’s about to kiss me. I want him to lean down and close the distance, but he forces his eyes closed and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, he moves a bit away from me, but doesn’t let go of my hand, squeezing it instead.
He waits a beat before he continues. “I’m sorry I kissed you in the water that day.”
“Why?” I ask, even though I know.
“It’s not that I didn’t enjoy the kiss.” His voice goes low, and I wonder if he’s reliving the moment. “I just don’t think it was fair to you. I’m with Tatianna.”
I feel a stab of pain as his words hit me. “I see.” I nod and let go of his hand. “You’ve got Tatianna now. I’m no supermodel, and if you want that, I can’t compete with her.” I stand up and begin to refold my clothes. It’s definitely time to go.
“Hey, stop packing.” He puts his hands over mine to stop me. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know,” I say. But I stop packing.
“As for my relationship with Tatianna, I’m not sure if she and I still want the same things. We just had a talk about where things were heading with us.” He runs his hand along the back of his neck. “I need to take some time and think things through.”
I feel a glimmer of hope at his words. The idea of Collins breaking it off with Tatianna, of him being single, should be exciting. But as I search his eyes I see that this is hard for him. It could be that he’s not ready to leave her, or that he’s just frustrated because he’s not sure what he wants. Either way, his unhappy state doesn’t allow me to take pleasure in this news. At least not a lot.
“But about our promise.” His brow furrows and I hold my breath wanting to know, but also terrified. “I’m just not sure...” He trails off. But I don’t need him to finish the sentence. I know what he’s saying.
“Then why even bring it up again?” I ask. “What is there to talk about?”
He scoots closer and reaches for my hand, but thinks better of it. “You being here, Mia, suddenly back in my life. It’s a lot to process. And marriage…” He makes a cursing sound under his breath.
“It’s fine,” I interrupt. “It was a stupid childhood promise. It doesn’t mean anything.” My voice shakes over the last words and I suck in a quick inhale. I won’t let myself cry in front of him.
This time he does take my hand, pressing his palm against mine. “Gremlin?”
My eyes lift to his.
“I don’t want you to go anywhere. I lost you once when I was fifteen, and I’m not ready to let you go again. Stay. Please. As long as you want. As long as you need to.”
“But won’t it be weird with Tatianna? Doesn’t she think it’s weird?”
“You’re my best friend, Mia. There’s nothing weird about you being here. Besides, this is my house. I decide who stays and how long.” He narrows his eyes as he looks at me, and pokes me in the arm. “You stay as long as you want.”
“Fine,” I say. A smile finds its way to my lips. He can’t poke me like that, the way he did when he...
I’m not happy with the way our talk has gone, but the fact that he doesn’t want me gone is something. And honestly, I still don’t have anywhere else to go, so it’s also a relief.
“Good,” he says. “Don’t unpack. I want you to come to Paris with me Monday. Tatianna backed out, and I already made travel plans for two.” He explains that it’s a business trip he’s been planning and that she has a shoot. His eyes fill with irritation as he talks about her last minute cancelation. It’s frustrating to watch how little regard she has for him.
It only takes me a second to nod my assent. “Paris? Of course.” I’d do anything for him, and convincing me to go to Europe on a free trip wasn’t exactly a hardship.
“What’s this?” He pulls my scrapbook onto his lap and opens it. He chuckles into his fist, his eyes growing warm. “I can’t believe you still have The Gremlin Files. I’m so glad you brought this.” I blush at the silly name he has for my scrapbook. I sit down next to him and he leans in so that I can see as he leafs through the pages. His arm brushes against mine and I revel in the heat coming from his touch. I try to tell myself this touch is innocent. We were best friends as children, we could be just friends again. But as my body leans in next to his, I know there’s nothing just friends about the way I want to nuzzle my nose along his jaw line and inhale his scent.
At each new page, we gasp and laugh, remembering the past and all the wonderful memories.
He pauses on the page with the ticket stubs to our first concert. “This was the best show. This book is great. Can I borrow it?”
“Sure.” I shrug.
“Look, I have to go take care of a few things for work, but I’m so glad you’re coming to Paris.” He steps out, and closes the door behind him.
I’m glad I’m going too.
I know the right thing to do is give him the space he needs to think about his relationship with Tatianna. But spending a whole week alone with him in a romantic city like Paris? The temptation will be nearly overwhelming.
Chapter Thirteen
Collins
When we arrive in Paris, the joy on Mia’s face is incredible. She’s like a little kid in a candy shop, her eyes wide and her mouth curled into a silly grin. I can’t help getting swept up in her excitement, my own mood lightening despite having been here many times. Even after a twelve-hour flight, she’s full of energy and ready to explore.
“Where are we going
first?” she asks, as the driver cruises down the highway that leads from the airport to the city.
“The hotel.” I chuckle at her. “I thought we could drop our luggage, and then I’ll show you around a little, but we have a business dinner in a couple of hours.”
“Okay.”
On the plane ride here, I told her all about Pierre and the successful European firm he runs. I would like to take over managing his company’s investments stateside and need to show him why that would benefit him. But first I need to win him over. The French are much more relational when it comes to business. They don’t get in bed with just anyone. His wife’s name is Adele, and I explained that I needed Mia to keep her happy and occupied. Happy wife, happy life, and all that. I know by tonight we will both have our game faces on, but for now, I’m happy to indulge her in the role of tour guide.
When we reach the hotel and step into the opulent marble lobby, Mia’s eyes dart over the elegant paintings and the finely upholstered furniture. I stand at the check-in counter, waiting, as the clerk types something on the keyboard.
“Monsieur, the luxury king suite you’ve requested has been prepared. The bellhop will bring your luggage up.”
Shit. My assistant booked the room for me and Tatianna months ago, of course it’s just one room—with one bed. “Actually, I need a bigger suite—something with two bedrooms.”
She looks down at the monitor and begins typing again. “I’m sorry, but we’re completely full at the moment.” She frowns.
“Okay, then just a regular room with two beds?”
She shakes her head. “We have no occupancy other than the suite you reserved.” She explains that there’s some big fashion convention happening this week and many of the hotels are full.
I consider searching for another hotel, one outside the city, but with my meetings all being in the business district, I realize that’s silly. Mia and I are adults. We will be fine sharing a room. Shit, we used to have sleepovers all the time when we were little.