Текст книги "Cruel and Beautiful"
Автор книги: A. M. Hargrove
Соавторы: Terri E. Laine
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Текущая страница: 1 (всего у книги 28 страниц)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Published By Wicked Truth Publishing, LLC
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
About the Authors
Other Books by A. M. Hargrove
Stalk A.M. Hargrove
Stalk Terri E. Laine
Published By Wicked Truth Publishing, LLC
Copyright © 2015 A.M. Hargrove and Terri E. Laine
All rights reserved.
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously.
Cover by Sara Eirew
Acknowledgements
There is a group of people who deserve our thanks, namely our beta readers. Their patience with us during our first project together is deeply appreciated. When we started this, we didn’t dream it would end up here and without their input, it never would’ve happened. So here’s our biggest bestest thank you to the following people: Jill Patten, Adriane Leigh, Michelle Leighton, Liz Crowe, Andrea Stafford, and Kat Grimes.
We’d also like to thank Sara Eirew for putting up with us in all the changes we asked her to make in the cover. We can’t begin to name them. (Runs and hides in shame!) Thank you, Sara!
A hearty thanks goes out to Anne Chaconas at Bad Ass Marketing for, well, her Bad Ass Marketing!
And a big thanks to Julie, Kris, Rick, and Amy at Red Coat PR for all their help, too!
A RASPY VOICE WAKES me up. That’s not quite true because I don’t really sleep anymore. My body hovers in that place that’s not exactly sleep and not exactly awareness. After the last year, I’m not sure if I’ll ever get a solid night’s sleep again.
“Cate?”
“Yeah? What is it?” I’m instantly on high alert.
“I think it’s time. I want to go to the hospital.”
The words I’ve dreaded for weeks punch me in the gut. But I refuse to let him see it. “Yeah, okay. Let me get dressed.”
“Cate? I think you need to call 911. I’m pretty sure I can’t get up to walk.” He inhales and it’s then I hear the faint rattle deep in his chest. Oh, god, how will I ever get through this?
“Drew?” I lean over him and press my cheek against his. What used to be firm flesh is now nothing but skin wrapped around bone. My hands latch onto to his shoulders and it’s much the same. All the mass has vanished, stolen by the disease that ravages his beautiful body and soul.
“It’s going to be fine, Cate, I promise. Things will be good. Just call 911.” He struggles to clear his throat.
Always the positive one. I want to yell and scream, stomp my feet and smash things. But I do none of that. I look into his cloudy blue eyes that were once so clear and stunning and only nod. I pick up the bedside phone and make the call, asking the voice on the other end to tell the paramedics not to use the sirens or flashers and explain why. When they arrive at our house, I lead them to Drew, and then follow the ambulance to the hospital. On the way, I make the dreaded family calls.
Hollow. That’s what I am as I watch them wheel Drew in on the gurney. Everything has been ripped out of me—my guts, my heart, my soul. I bite my knuckle as I stand there. He knows what’s happening. He’s a doctor. He’s charted everything out and explained it all to me, though I’ve refused to believe half of it. Why did he have to be right? My mind only wants to accept certain things. And this isn’t one of them.
When we finally get to a room, he sleeps. The deep purple smudges beneath his eyes are a stark contrast to his pale skin. It reminds me of a time when he used to be so tanned. And his hair, which is downy fuzz grown back from the last and final round of failed chemo, is so different now from the thick mass of messy waves that were always sun streaked, even in winter. In this state, little more than a skeleton, he’s still my perfect Drew. And I ask myself again, for the thousandth time, how am I going to deal with this?
Later in the day, when Drew wakes up, he beckons me to his bedside.
“Cate, you know when I first saw you at that party, I knew you were my one. My it girl. And then you put up such damn resistance to me, I didn’t think I’d ever get you out on a date. But I did.”
I suck on my lower lip, trying not to outright sob as I remember.
The left corner of his upper lip curls, his little trademark that I love so much. It plows into me like a damn tank and I want to crawl into the bed next to him and cling to him forever.
“I knew if I could get you out on a date, I could win you over. Thank god I did. You’ve been my life, Cate, my reason for being. I’m only sorry it all turned out like this. This,” and he motions with his hand up and down his body, “wasn’t part of my plan for you. I wanted the whole deal—marriage, and we got that, but I wanted kids, an SUV, a big house, and grandkids, too. I’m so sorry I fucked it all up, babe. But listen, I love you more than my life. And hear me out now. I want you to go home.”
I nod and suck back my tears. “Okay. I’m going to go home and shower, because I’m kind of rank. I love you too, Drew. More than I can say.”
“Cate, stop. That’s not what I meant. I want you to promise me something, okay? Swear to me right now.” His voice is firm, much stronger than it has been in days.
“Okay. What is it?”
“I want you to leave this room now and go home, but I don’t want you to come back after you shower. I want you to say your goodbyes to me right here, right now.”
“What!? What are you saying?” My heart stutters in my throat.
“I’m saying what you think I’m saying. I love you so much more than having you sit here by my side for the next few days. I don’t want that. You swore to me, Cate.”
“Drew, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Now, go. Turn around, walk through that door, and don’t ever look back. All my stuff is boxed exactly like I asked you to, and you know what to do with it. My parents and yours will be here, along with Ben. But you, you don’t need to be here. I don’t want you to be here. I want you to remember me as I was, when I was healthy, during our best times. Now, look at that door and take your first steps into your new life, Cate. And promise me you’ll live. Just live, Cate. Do it for me.”
Two years and four months later
THE BITTER COLD SLIPS THROUGH my wool coat as if it’s mesh, causing me to hug myself tighter. As I make my way across the street, the countdown on the crosswalk sign nearly ends, and I quicken my steps. The way my luck goes these days, I won’t make it across in time. Instead, I’m likely to get run over by a tiny Smart car, of all things, because DC cabbies are just as crazy as the ones in New York. And somehow I’ll survive, only without the use of any of my limbs. .
Just as my feet land on the curb, a cab roars by, sending a slushy wave of ice and snow against the back of my legs and the bottom half of my coat. I shiver as the cold seeps into my very bones.
“Great,” I mutter, dusting myself off while sidestepping the ice patches that litter the sidewalks after yesterday’s winter storm. Of all the luck. Washington, DC is supposed to be the exception to northern winters, or so I’ve been told. It’s just far enough south to squeak past the worst of the northern winter weather. Much like Charleston, historically, old man winter doesn’t dump buckets of snow in the area—or at least until I decided to make this place my home.
Yesterday’s snow nearly beat the record of earliest recorded snowfall on October 5, 1892. We’ve missed that by a grand seven days. Great for me—not. I’m not a fan of the white stuff, which is why I chose DC over the Big Apple. My needs were simple and my requirements few when I made the decision to leave South Carolina about a year ago, two of which were to be in a big city and preferably north. What I didn’t bank on is living in a place where cold is the norm more months out of the year than not. Guess the joke’s on me.
Jarred from my inner thoughts, I take the wrong step and end up slipping and sliding with wide arching, wind-milling arms. The comical movements do nothing to stop the momentum and I lose my footing. A hand snakes out from nowhere and takes hold of my arm while another steadies my hip. I have to glance way up to see my savior, who is somewhere in the stratosphere above me.
Immediately, the dull gray of the day disappears and I find myself swimming in an ocean of tropical blue. Disbelief clouds my gaze because instantly I recognize the person who saved me. It’s as if fate decided to play Russian roulette with my life and I’ve finally pulled the trigger with a voracious bang.
“Hi,” I stammer.
The man with the aqua eyes and a face I can study forever stares at me a second longer than awkward. A wide-eyed gaze confirms he is just as surprised to see me.
When he speaks, his voice is as deep as the shit I stand in. There is too much history between us. Yet, for a second, the sexy glint in his eyes glamours away all my reticent thoughts of the past.
“Hi. I...ah... never expected to see you here.” That’s the understatement of the century. “On the streets of DC of all places, and me playing rescuer.” His southern drawl glides off his tongue like warm honey.
Jostled some more by passersby, he doesn’t let go. Instead, he silently steers me out of the line of foot traffic over to the side of a building next to an ATM machine.
Although we are both almost covered head to foot in winter gear, we are close enough that I feel the heat rolling off of him. Thoughts of the past flitter across my brain like the odd saying that someone walked over my grave, and I shiver.
His gloved hand rubs down my arm as if he notices.
“Are you living here now?”
I nod stupidly because he has to be the last person I’d ever thought I would see again, especially since I’ve been mostly running away from him.
“Yes. You?” I ask, truly curious if he’s visiting or not.
A cloud of frost escapes his mouth when he sighs and runs a gloved hand through hair that appears highlighted by the sun despite the season. “I’m not sure.”
My brows rise as I give him a conspicuous look before responding with a half laugh. “That’s odd. Either you are or you’re not.” My tone, although playful, doesn’t stop my gut from twisting into complicated knots.
He shrugs. “I’m testing the waters. Now that I’ve finished my fellowship—”
“You’ve finished?” I blurt, surprised by his admission.
His smile is warm but doesn’t quite meet his eyes. And I feel foolish for even asking. Of course he finished. He was close to completion when I ran.
“Don’t,” he whispers, moving in closer.
Even on the crowded street his quiet word rings in my ears. The way he looks at me, it’s as if he’s reading my soul. All of a sudden, I feel the anguish he must see on my face. He holds my gaze a second longer. Then he straightens and continues as if no time apart has passed between us.
“I’m temporarily working with one of the top guys in oncology. A doctor in his practice is out on maternity leave. I’m filling in, but it has the potential to lead to a full-time position. It could be an opportunity of a lifetime. However, I need to figure out if I like the area enough to make a permanent move. You know my heart’s in Charleston. The rest is up to fate.”
That word again. Has fate placed him in my path? What are the odds that I’d slip and he’d be the one to catch me, miles and miles away from our hometown?
There are many reasons why I shouldn’t be curious. The biggest of which is that I’d left Charleston after he gave me many reasons to stay.
“I should head back to work. I’m already late,” I mutter with averted eyes.
His hand halts my escape, making it impossible to move around him. Earnest eyes search mine before he decides what he wants to say.
“We should have lunch or dinner? Something to do with a meal. I know your favorite is Italian. Word has it there is a good restaurant not too far from here.”
“I don’t know,” I admit honestly. My captured eyes break from his in favor of the ground, searching for an escape hatch. As beautiful as the man is, so much pain surrounds any possible relationship between us. I hurt him when I left and I hurt myself as well.
A finger lifts my chin as he forces me to stare into his gorgeous eyes.
“We don’t have to talk about the past—Charleston, the hospital, any of it. It can be as if we’re meeting for the first time. We can make a brand new start.”
My heart gallops like a thoroughbred on a wild boar hunt.
“Drew—”
He shakes his head again. “No, let’s try something new.”
He takes a small step back before proffering his hand.
“Hi, I’m Andy.”
“Andy?” I’m sure my eyebrows shoot into my hairline.
He leans in and whispers, “Calling me anything else would remind you of the past.”
I bite my bottom lip because the name does stir ugly emotions in my stomach. They are the kind that turns my face red with fat tears spilling down my cheeks. I’ve run from those emotions and the man before me.
Unable to do anything else with the hand offered to me as if in truce, I take it with a faint smile. “Hi, Andy.”
He keeps my hand for many seconds, much longer than any stranger would. When we finally let go, a crooked smile that should be properly named a sexy smirk appears on his face. “Nice to meet you, Cate.” He playfully waggles his eyebrows. “Can I have your number?”
The cliché line should be cheesy, but the way he says it would make any woman’s panties melt.
I glance away, not wanting him to see how affected I am. More than that, he subtly lets me know that he realizes I’ve changed my number. That means he’s tried to call me despite it all. The fact that he doesn’t give me crap about it adds value to his declaration of a fresh start.
He uses his black leather-gloved hand to touch my cheek and draw me from my inner turmoil. I’m forced to face him and the truth of my actions.
“I see your pretty little head working. We’re here in DC away from everything. No one has to know,” he says before letting me go.
The idea that our family or friends might catch the slightest clue we’re considering dating freaks me out. After everything, I still haven’t forgiven myself. I shake that thought away. In a moment of free will, I pull my phone from my pocket. God only knows if I’m making the right decision, but I’m tired of running. Let me rephrase that. I’m tired of running from him.
“What’s yours?”
His smile thaws me from my face all the way to my toes. He doesn’t answer. The pads of his gloved thumb glide over my cheeks.
“You’re still as beautiful as the first day I saw you.”
His eyes laser onto mine in a way that sends a shockwave to my core. Just like then, I’m embarrassed by my reaction to him. The idea of his touch makes my center clench with expectation.
I watch his lips move as he recites his number. It’s a wonder how I manage to hear him, as I’m transfixed thinking about all the things he can do with his capable mouth. The text I send is simple. Three words, the order of which come from my inner vixen.
Lunch Dinner or Breakfast.
Wanting to be sexy for the first time in ages, I begin to stroll away after a quick farewell with an extra bounce in my step only to slip again.
When he catches me for a second time, he whispers, “If you keep falling, I’ll think you want my hands on you. And that will mean our first meal together will be breakfast.”
His steamy words blow across my cheek and the heat causes a shudder to run through me. Since he’s at my back, I can’t see his expression. But I know well enough that his face sports a cocky grin. Only when I turn to say something, he’s already walking away in the opposite direction. I roll my lower lip in and gently bite. I try not to be giddy about having lunch with Drew… no. Andy. I force myself to push thoughts of the past out of my head. Least of which is how I can ever forgive myself. After all we’ve lost and how I left, I could have never expected that he would ever want to see me or forgive me, either.
Yet somehow in the last ten minutes, my life has taken a decided turn. Worse, I can’t get my mind off of him. In all the time since I saw him last, I’ve worked hard at forgetting and trying to move on. I step carefully forward with nervous anticipation. The fact that I haven’t been with anyone of consequence since him scares me. To allow myself the vulnerability of placing my heart on the line freaks me out. But the possibility of breakfast with him stirs a hunger within me that food can never fulfill.
When I get a text back, Dinner with the possibly of breakfast, with a winking emoji, I wonder if I have any right to the grin that broadens across my face.
MY ROOMMATE, JENNA, LEANS AGAINST the doorframe. I catch her out the corner of my eye. She knows my rule—no interruptions while I’m writing. My nose zeroes in on my computer screen and fingers fly across the keyboard. What feels like a thousand plus papers I have due the first month of this semester is the reason behind the rule. Jenna doesn’t speak; she just occupies space. Unfortunately, she’s enough of a distraction that I lose my train of thought and start typing inane crap.
“Okay. I give up. What do you want?” The question is half born from frustration, the other in jest.
She crosses her arms over her chest, determined to tell me something. “I have news.” An indecent grin grows on her face like a weed.
“News?” My face pinches into a frown.
“Remember my brother’s friend that was at the party last weekend?”
“I guess.” Truthfully, I don’t have a clue who she’s talking about, but I need to get back to the paper that’s due tomorrow. Besides, Ben mingled with a ton of people at that party. I almost glance away but she’s quick to respond to keep my attention.
“You have to remember. He’s adorable. Tall, sandy blond, blue eyes. His name’s Drew?”
Her face lights up as if she’s an entertainment news reporter with a breaking headline story.
“And?” Because honestly, as much as I’d love to chat, all the work I need to do trumps guy talk.
“He wants you. Bad.”
I pause for a second at the way she added that last part. Then I shake it off.
“Is that what you interrupted my train of thought for, crazy girl?” Smiling, I throw the pencil that’s tucked in my ear at her.
“Hey!” She laughs because she thinks I’ll give in. “Drew is hot. Smokin’ hot. As sin on a graham cracker.”
“Okay, one, I don’t have time for Smokin’ Hot Drew. And two, what the hell is sin on a graham cracker?”
“A s’more. That’s what. And he’s better than that. And you know how much I love s’mores.”
I shake my head because Jenna has always been boy crazy. Lucky for her, she’s been successful at meeting the right guys.
“As tasty as he sounds, I’m far too busy these days. I have to maintain my grades to keep my scholarship.” I turn my attention back to the computer and try to remember what I was about to type.
“Jeez, Cate, all you do is study and write. I practically had to drag you to that party on Saturday. I swear if it hadn’t been for Ben being in town, you never would’ve gone.”
I roll my head around, trying to ease the stiffness in my neck. “You know why I can’t take a break. If I lose my scholarship, there goes my tuition money. As it is, I can barely afford what the scholarship doesn’t cover. My parents warned me about my financial situation when I decided to go to school here.” She stares at me like she’s forgotten. I sigh. “It’s all on me.” Finally, I spell it out, hoping she remembers. “My family doesn’t have money like yours does. That means I have to keep my grades up. I almost screwed all that up with dickwad.”
Jenna frowns. “Jeez Cate. One little break won’t kill you.”
“Yeah, I went to the party, didn’t I, and got wasted. I don’t remember half the things I did. Besides, last time I gave my attention to some guy it almost cost me. I learned a huge lesson that time. Remember?”
“Yeah, but I thought you were talking about the way …”
I have to stop her. That is one memory that needs to stay buried. My palm flies up in the air as I groan. “That was a fucking catastrophe all around. I mean, I tried to sleep with the jerk and you know how that went.”
She runs over to me and hugs me. “I’m sorry. I know he hurt you.”
“Yeah, even worse, it was humiliating,” I mumble into her shoulder. “Not only that, my grades crashed. I can’t go through that again. I’m taking extra classes and working double time to make up for that semester. So no. Graham cracker sin can’t be an option right now. I wish it could be different.”
Jenna pulls her hair out of an elastic band and twists it up in a messy bun, wrapping the band around it again. “After all the time you spent ogling him and chatting it up with him on Saturday, I thought that maybe you were interested.”
Scrunching up my face, I say, “Um, yeah, those details are totally sketchy to me.”
“You’re positive then?”
“I wish I could, but studying comes first. Now scram so I can get something done.”
She sidles out the door and I resume my work. But now I have to conjure up some BS because the old thought choo choo has chugged right off the tracks. This sucks. After about twenty minutes, I get up and decide to go for a run. Running always helps my brain reconnect. I tie my shoes and charge out the door. Forty minutes later when I get back, there’s a lovely bouquet of flowers on the counter.
“You got a delivery while you were gone,” Jenna announces with a smirk.
I rest my arms on the counter and stretch my calves as curiosity has me leaning toward the little white card that reads, Cate Forbes. “From who?”
“My guess is they’re from Drew, that’s who,” Jenna says, moving closer to face me.
“Right.” I laugh because I know my best friend. “You bought them and are pretending they’re from Drew, didn’t you?”
Jenna actually has the decency to look appalled. With fingers at the hollow of her throat, she says, “Seriously. You think I would do that?”
“Yes, I do.” I nod at the same time.
“Damn. You don’t think very highly of me, do you?”
“Yes, I do. I love you, in fact. But when you set your mind on something, deviant Jenna comes out in full force.”
She rolls her eyes and giggles. “Okay, so I did not send the flowers, but now I wish I had.”
This is confusing. “You really didn’t?”
“I’ll pinky swear if you want.” She holds out her finger.
So if she didn’t, then that Drew dude must have. I walk back to the flowers and with hesitant fingers reach for the little card that came with them.
“It won’t bite, you know.” Jenna’s sarcasm reaches me from across the room.
I grab the card and read it.
I would love a chance to take you to dinner.
Drew McKnight.
“What does it say?”
Perplexed, I mumble, “Oh my. He’s asked me to dinner. And these are beautiful. I’ve never gotten flowers before.” I lean in to inhale their fragrance.
“They are and when did he ask you out? And don’t frown. You know my mom says that’s a sure way to create early wrinkles.”
This whole flower thing has me completely shocked. No one has ever done anything so sweet like this for me before. “No set date, just that he’d like to take me.”
“Oh my god.”
“Don’t get your panties all wet over this.” I say that but in reality, I’m the one getting nervous.
“You swear you don’t remember him? He was with my brother the entire night. And the two of you had a cozy little chat going.”
Grabbing her arm, I squeak, “No I don’t remember! Help me, Jenna! I was hammered. I barely remember seeing Ben.” The night is fuzzy at best. “Wait a minute. If he’s Ben’s friend, how old is this dude?”
“Ben’s age.”
“What? That would make him what? Twenty-seven?”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Jeez. That’s like gramps. No way can I go out with a man that old.”
“He’s in his second year of residency. He’s a doctor.” She says it like she’s dangling a golden carrot in front of my face.
“So? That’s supposed to make him datable? I don’t care if he’s the President of the United States’ son. He’s too old for me. He’s probably ready for a wife or something. I’m trying to finish school not start a family.”
“Damn, Cate, calm down. It’s not like he’s twenty years older than you. It’s seven. That’s it. Lots of girls our age date guys seven years older than they are.”
“Oh yeah? Like who.”
“That Scarlett chick from our English class freshman year. She did.”
“Yeah, and she’s slept with almost every guy at Purdue. She keeps the Boilermakers running strong. She singlehandedly kept the entire fourth year mechanical engineering guys in blow jobs that year.”
“Pure conjecture.”
“Pure? That’s not a word I would use in the same sentence that had anything to do with Scarlett.”
“Damn, are you hardheaded. Just go out with him. One date. If you don’t like him or you think he’s too old after that, then fine. You don’t ever have to see him again.”
When I put some thought into it, there must have been some kind of spark between us for me to have spent time with him at the party, even if I was a little wasted. That’s not the type of thing I normally do. My style is to stay clear of all guys.
“Okay… I’ll do it. Give him my cell number. But please don’t give me a hard time if it doesn’t work out, especially since he’s friends with Ben.”
“No worries on that, my friend.”
Later that night, I’m running through my to do list on the number of papers I have to write and how many will require a significant amount of research. Having a double major is not much of a picnic, but I couldn’t make a choice between accounting and journalism, so here I am, writing my ass off. But honestly, I love it.
When my phone rings, I answer it without looking at the caller ID. I figure it’s my mom. She usually calls at this hour because she knows it’s the best time to catch me.
“Hey, Mom.”
A crazy sexy voice answers, “Um yeah, this isn’t Mom. This is Drew…” When I don’t respond, he adds, “McKnight.”
Shit. Drew. Flower and date man. Gramps! “Oh, hey. W-what’s up?” I stutter. This weird nervousness settles over me because I can’t remember anything about him and suddenly I feel terrible about it. But if he’s half as good looking as he sounds or as Jenna says, I might be in trouble.
“Jenna gave me your number.” His voice is warm and breezy and makes me remember just how long my lady parts have been neglected.
“Yes! Thank you so much for the flowers. They’re gorgeous. That was very sweet of you,” I add.
“You’re welcome. I, um, didn’t know how else to get you to agree to a date.”
Now I feel bad. It makes me feel bitchy that he had to go to those lengths. “Oh, I didn’t …”
“No worries, Cate. I was only giving you a taste of my good, old-fashioned, southern charm.” I sense a smile behind his words and immediately feel better.
“Well, it worked. How could I possibly say no to flowers?” Did I just flirt with him? I need to pull it together. He’s putting a huge dent in my no dating wall and I need to remind myself that I don’t have time to date.
“Are you occupied on Saturday?”
Occupied? Who asks if someone is occupied? I have to stifle a laugh.
“Let me check.” Of course I’m not, but I don’t want him to think I’m the loser that I am. So I let several seconds pass before I answer. “No, I’m free.” The words slip out because Jenna’s right. I have been spending way too much time on the computer. One night of harmless fun won’t cause me to lose my scholarship.
“Great! I’d love to take you to dinner.”
“Nice.” I pause because I’m smiling. I bite my lip to stop it from growing. This isn’t good. “I can meet you,” I toss out.
“No, I’ll pick you up. Is seven okay?”
“Seven is perfect. I can text you my address.”
“Not necessary. Remember, I sent you flowers? Ben was kind enough to give it to me.”
Shit. What a dumbass. “Oh, right.”
“The truth, Cate, is I actually helped Ben move Jenna in.”
“Oh.” This surprises me. “I didn’t know.”
“Do you like Italian?”
“I like everything, but Italian is my favorite.”
“Excellent, Italian it is. And it’ll be fairly casual.”
“Sounds great.” I’m getting ready to end the call, but something stops me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
Taking a deep breath, I take the plunge. “Why me? Obviously I’m only a junior in college and we don’t really know each other, other than the party.”
“When I pointed you out to Ben at the party, he gave me an earful and I was even more intrigued, so I sought you out. After our conversation, I knew I wanted to get to know you better.”
I chew the tip of my pen. “Our conversation?”
“Yeah. How we talked about Charleston.”
“Um …”
His chuckle is dark with an intoxicating kick like whiskey going down the first time. “You don’t remember it, do you?”
“I’m not gonna lie. I don’t. I’m sorry. I blame it on the alcohol.”
“Like the song, huh?” He laughs. “We talked about how funny it was we never met, even though we were both from Charleston and you were Jenna’s best friend and I was Ben’s. Ring a bell?”
My hand automatically reaches for the back of my neck and rubs it. Oh my god, why can’t I remember this? I’m never drinking again. “No, and I’m beyond embarrassed to admit it.”
He laughs again and this time the sound sends warm shivers down my spine. Wow! That’s never happened before. Warm shivers.
“Cate, don’t worry about it. Want to know what else you told me?”
“Oh god. I’m not sure,” I croak.
