by Reid, Roxy
My heart starts beating faster and harder as I let myself consider what Tracy is suggesting. It hurts even letting myself get this close to hope.
“What were you talking about before he said the thing about not knowing how to be in a relationship?” Tracy asks.
I cast my mind back, trying to remember.
“Did he fuck something up? Or just a miscommunication?”
“I don’t remember. Wait. Fuck,” I say as it comes flooding back to me. “I said sex with him was like a one-night-stand every time.”
“Ouch.”
“I meant it as a compliment!”
“Yeah, because you never had a one-night-stand. He’s had a million of them. He doesn’t want that anymore.”
“Which is why he’s trying to figure out how to be in a relationship,” I argue, my heart pounding.
“Which is why he’s trying to figure out how to be in a relationship with you,” Tracy says, leaning forward to tap the table.
I look away. I can’t meet her eyes anymore.
Tracy sighs. “You’re not going to listen to me. You’re just going to ghost him because you’re too chickenshit. The idea of falling for someone you might never get over terrifies you.”
“Yup,” I say. I finish my coffee.
We sit in silence for a while.
“You really think I should sext them both?” Tracy asks.
“Yep.”
“At the same time? I’ve never had a threesome before.”
“Not at the same time!” I say, laughing and grateful to be focusing on someone else’s problems for a little while.
15
Jack
CALIFORNIA SUCKS ASS
—Jack McBride, carved into a desk, senior year of high school
Three weeks after I buy Eva an engagement ring, I’m sitting in a conference room at work, wondering where the hell I went wrong. We live and work together, but I feel like I haven’t seen Eva in two weeks. She’s always staying late at work when I leave on time or leaving work early when she knows I have to stay late. On the rare occasions where we leave at the same time, she always heads off to spend time with Tracy, who’s finally back in the country.
I hinted that I’d be happy to join—Tracy’s my friend, too—but Eva just smiled vaguely and left without me.
Eva doesn’t smile vaguely. I don’t know what the fuck’s going on.
For a week there, right after I gave her the ring, everything was perfect, and then, suddenly, everything changed. I’ve tried to bring it up a few times, but somehow, we always just end up having sex instead and never actually have the conversation I keep trying to start.
When I asked Mel if women used sex to avoid having serious conversations about their feelings, she laughed for sixty seconds straight. Then she hung up without answering the damn question.
Big sisters are useless.
I’m trying not to stare at Eva, who’s sitting across from me at the conference table, paying attention to the man speaking. He’s the designer for the upstate hotel I showed Eva, and he’s politely but firmly telling us that we need to make a decision about what we’re going to use the ballroom for right now or the project will end up hopelessly behind schedule.
It’s an important meeting, and I should be focusing, but I keep getting distracted by the way the light hits Eva’s skin. The way her pink pearl earrings bring out the bloom of her cheeks. The way she frowns in gentle concentration, listening intently as each member of the team gives their argument for what we should do with the hotel.
She keeps twisting her engagement ring like she doesn’t like having it against her skin.
Why won’t she look at me? Why won’t she talk to me? What did I do wrong?
There are times she’s shut me out over the years, but I now know those were because she was dating someone who asked her to. She’s not dating anyone now. So, what the fuck is wrong?
Unless she is dating someone. Jealousy shoots through me, fast and all-consuming, and for a second, I can’t breathe. Then I get my head out of my ass and remember Eva doesn’t have time to date anyone else, and she promised she wouldn’t. And Eva doesn’t break promises to people.
Which brings right back to square one—what the fuck is wrong?
“What do you think, Eva?” the designer asks. “Is there a marketing angle that could tip the balance one way or the other here?”
Eva shoots me a look. She knows I want to keep the ballroom, and I know she disagrees.
“Why don’t we wait for Makeda to get back on this?” I ask. The last thing Eva and I need is another reason to fight.
“I actually took the liberty of contacting Makeda in anticipation of this meeting. I know we’re trying to respect her time off, but she did specifically request to be kept apprised of big decisions like this that will affect the marketing strategy for years to come. This is obviously time-sensitive.”
Around the table, heads nod in agreement.
“She agrees with me. Meeting our sales and rental goals for this property will be dramatically more feasible if we go with any of the proposals that carve up the ballroom into a number of smaller rooms. We’re partial to the proposals that keep us firmly in the luxury lane—spas, boutiques, high-end cafes—but the proposals oriented toward business travel could also work. Marketing feels confident in every proposal being seriously considered.”
“Except for the proposal where we keep it a ballroom,” I point out, irritated.
Eva’s eyes flick to me. Her demeanor is professional, but there are sparks in her eyes. “Forgive me. I was not aware that that proposal was still under serious consideration. Yes, marketing supports every serious proposal except for the one where we keep the ballroom as it is.”
“Why wouldn’t you think that proposal was still being considered?” I ask.
“Because you’re the only one who wants it, Jack,” she snaps, and then she closes her eyes briefly. “Forgive me. That was unprofessional.”
“Yes, it was,” I say. “You said the other proposals will make our goals more feasible. That implies the marketing goals are still feasible under my preferred plan. I wasn’t aware marketing was scared of working a little harder to help us deliver the glamour, adventure, and luxury we promise our guests.”
My team is looking at each other, nervously. I know I’m crossing a line here, but fuck it, I’ve crossed so many lines already, and for the first time in two weeks, Eva’s looking me in the eye and arguing back.
“That’s because all of these highly qualified people still have to work for you in two months, Jack. They can’t tell you that if you go forward with keeping the ballroom, you will make your other goals completely impossible. I’m gone in a month, which is why I can tell you charm and magic and perfect gestures don’t change the reality of who your customers are and what they’re capable of giving you. Sometimes, you have to face reality and settle for the perfectly good options you can have, instead of the impractical option that won’t work and will hurt you in the future.”
“I don’t settle,” I say icily.
“No,” she agrees. “You don’t. But your choices make sure everyone else around you has to.”
“Then why bother attending this meeting? If you already know what decision I’m going to make? It’s not as if you’ll be around to see the end result.”
Eva flushes, and then she gathers her things and looks at the rest of the table. “Apologies. I believe my presence here is counterproductive. Mr. McBride is right. I won’t be here to implement whatever decision you reach.”
Eva stands up and leaves. Everyone watches her go, and then their eyes swing back to me in unison. My whole team is looking at me like I punched a kitten.
Shit. I screwed up.
“Thank you for your time and opinions, everyone. Please email me any thoughts you didn’t get a chance to express today. I understand time is of the essence on this decision. I’ll make it as soon as possible.”
I retreat to my office. I nee
d space to think. But Eva’s already in my office. Sitting behind my desk. It’s a blatant power move, and I’d be pissed at her for being so petty, but after my display in that meeting, I can’t get mad at anyone else for pettiness.
“Close the door,” Eva says.
I do.
She rises, and then we just glare at each other, hands on hips.
“You can not disrespect me like that,” Eva says. “If you’ve got a problem, you talk to me like an adult. You don’t turn into an asshole and humiliate me at a meeting. You’re not the kind of man who does that. I’m not the kind of woman who does that.”
All the self-righteous wind goes out of my sails. “I know.” I slump, dropping into the chair on the other side of the desk that I keep for guests. “I know. I’m sorry. But in my defense—”
“Oh, this will be rich,” Eva mutters.
“I’ve been trying to talk to you for two weeks! I try to talk to you at home, at work, in the fucking elevator. And you either run away, ignore me, or fuck me.”
Her eyes slide away from mine.
“Shit,” I say. “You are doing it on purpose. This isn’t in my head.” I didn’t know how badly I wanted it to all be in my head until her body language confirmed that it wasn’t.
What did I fuck up so badly that my best friend can’t talk to me?
“What am I doing wrong?” I ask.
Eva walks out from behind the desk and goes to stand at a window, her back to me. There’s nothing I can do but watch and wait for her to be ready to talk.
Finally, she says, without looking at me, “I can’t do this anymore, Jack.”
Ice slides through my veins. “Can’t do what? The job? You don’t have to work here. You don’t have to work anywhere. I can cover the bills for as long as you need to figure out what you want to do.”
Eva turns back to face me. She grips the windowsill like what she has to say next is hard and she needs all the support she can get. “I can’t keep sleeping with you, Jack. At first, the friends-with-benefits thing was fun, but now that we’re living together, and I’m wearing your fucking engagement ring, and your mom is calling me with ideas about the wedding, it’s too much.”
My mouth is dry. She can’t be breaking it off already. I need six months. I need to convince her she can believe in me.
“It’s too much what?” I ask.
“Too much like being in a real relationship. I’m getting caught up in the lie. Jack, you’re a really great guy. The best one I know, and it would be way too easy for me to fall for you.”
My heart stops.
“And you don’t want to fall for me?” I ask slowly.
Eva shakes her head empathetically. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”
I stand up. “What if I’m falling for you?”
She turns away. “Please, Jack. Don’t.”
“But—”
“We both know it wouldn’t last, and then we’d still be stuck together for a year and a half because our professional reputations demand it. By the end of it, the best friendship I’ve ever had would be completely destroyed.”
I can’t move. This is going so wrong. I want to fight back, convince her it could last. I want to tell her I’ll love her forever. Tell her she can take a chance on me. But what if when she says a relationship between us can’t last, she’s not talking about my feelings? What if she’s talking about hers?
This is why I spent thirty years not making a move. Because I can take high-stakes business risks without blinking, but the idea of losing Eva paralyzes me. It always has, since junior year of high school when she moved across the country and left a gaping hole in my life. When I finally tracked her down in college and got her back in my life, I wasn’t about to risk losing her over something as ordinary as sex.
Of course, that was before I knew there was nothing ordinary about sex with Eva.
If taking a step back is what Eva needs, I’ll give it to her. I’ll give her anything she asks.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “No sex. Are you still okay with me kissing you in public if we have to pretend to be a couple?”
“I … yeah. That’s fine.” She slowly turns back to face me. She’s twisting her engagement ring nervously. “Are you really okay with this?”
I fake a smile. “Of course! We were having fun. If it’s not fun anymore, then we stop. No hard feelings.”
She sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God. I hated ghosting you.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Oh, is that what you were doing?”
She laughs. It’s weak, but it’s a laugh, and I’ll do pretty much anything to make her laugh.
I hold out my arms for a hug. “Friends again?” Then I hesitate and lower my arms. “Unless you don’t want to hug anymore.”
“No! No, hugging is still good.” Then she’s across the room and in my arms, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
It’s the closest I’ve felt to all right in two weeks.
16
Eva
Where R U??? I get that sorority girls are hot, but WE HAVE A GROUP PROJECT.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. This is high school, ALL OVER AGAIN.
—Eva Price, text to Jack McBride, freshman year of college
Other than that one hug when we made-up in his office, Jack doesn’t touch me at all for the next few days. I know because when we have to go to a fancy party an associate of his is throwing, Jack touches my back to steer me through the crowd, and it feels like electricity is racing through me. Like I’m a lightbulb that’s finally been plugged in.
We reach the empty corner at the edge of the room that Jack was steering us toward, and he removes his hand. Just like that, the welcome crackle of energy is gone. I look around the room of gorgeously dressed people who I don’t know and don’t care about. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so alone.
“You look beautiful,” Jack says softly. I’m wearing the wrap dress I wore on my birthday with the jewelry set he gave me.
“Don’t you have to talk to your colleague?” I ask.
“Eventually, but I don’t have to do it right now. Can I get you a drink?”
I shrug. I wish he’d just talk to his colleague. The sooner he does, the sooner I can leave. I think longingly of a time when I could go straight home and eat pizza in my sweatpants.
“Let me get you something. I’ll be right back. Trust me, these things are better with alcohol.” He leans down and drops a kiss on my cheek before diving back into the crowd.
I turn away, fighting the urge to reach up and touch my cheek, where he kissed me. God, I’m pathetic. I didn’t know giving up sex with him would be this bad. It’s just sex, right? Except, it’s not just sex. It’s falling asleep next to him. It’s cuddling when we watch TV.
I feel like a junkie going through withdrawal. Or like a flower trying to grow without sunlight.
It’s worth it to preserve the friendship, right? I just need to break this habit of needing him. Once I get through this wanting, it will be fine. It will absolutely be worth it.
What if I’m falling for you too?
The memory of Jack’s words lances through me, but I can’t let myself think about that because he said what if. That leaves an awful lot of wiggle room because what if he’s not falling for me? What if he’s just falling for this lie we’re telling everyone else?
The noise of the party feels like a dull roar around me. I notice there’s a balcony on the other side of the glass, so I find the door and wander out, happy for the fresh air and quiet. The balcony is long and narrow and wraps around the corner of the building. There are a handful of other people out here, but they all seem to be focused on each other, off in their own little world.
I lean on the railing and look down at the world below me. The sidewalk is so far down it’s terrifying to even look at. I think people buy apartments like these because it makes them feel important to be up in the New York skyline, but when I look down at the scale of it all, the only thing I get is a se
nse of my own unimportance.
“Please don’t lean so far over,” Jack says, his voice strained. I turn to see him holding two drinks and looking at me and the railing nervously.
I step over to take my drink, an amber-colored cocktail with a mint garnish. “I didn’t know you were scared of heights,” I say.
“I’m not,” Jack says. “Have you seen my apartment?”
He has a point. Those floor to ceiling windows would be incredibly stressful if you didn’t like heights.
I step back to the railing, curious. “Then why—”
“I just don’t like you so close to the edge,” he says.
He takes my wrist and tugs me back, closer to the wall of windows. When there’s a good two feet between me and the railing, his shoulders relax, and his breath goes back to normal. Oh. He really was worried. I feel a well of tenderness rise up inside me. Everyone thinks Jack is so cool, collected. They always have. When he cares about you, though, he wears his heart on his sleeve.
So, why can’t I trust him when he says he might be falling for me?
I ignore that thought. Instead, I focus on trying my cocktail. It’s got whiskey, cinnamon, and something sweet I can’t place. It’s good, but the cold of the drink combined with the cold of the night makes me shiver.
“Here, let me.” Jack slips out of his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. It smells so much like him that I want to steal it so I can curl up with it at night and smell him while I’m trying to fall asleep.
Which is exactly why I need to give it back. “You don’t need to,” I say. “We’re not …”
I was going to say dating, but that’s not right. Fucking is accurate, but it feels like it demeans all the little things he does to make me feel cared for.
“You just don’t have to do stuff like this anymore,” I finish.
“You were cold,” he says stubbornly. “It’s my job to keep you warm.”
“Why?” I ask, stamping my foot.