Текст книги "Desperate Chances "

Автор книги: A. Meredith Walters

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

“Don’t you dare!” I yelled, getting to my feet. She knew exactly how to push my buttons. And push them she did. Whenever possible. At really inopportune moments.

“Don’t you ever tell Mitch anything! I’ve put him through enough with all of my bullshit! If you ever say anything to him, Vivian, our friendship will be over! I swear it!”

Vivian’s eyes widened and she held her hands up. “Whoa, G, chill out.”

I took a deep breath and sat back down, a little embarrassed by my outburst. Vivian grabbed my hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, her eyes soft.

“You know I wouldn’t say anything. I just want you to be happy. I want him happy too. I love you both.”

“Mitch is happy, Viv,” I argued.

Vivian gave me a strange look. “Is he? Are you sure about that?”

I didn’t want to think about what she was insinuating. Hope had to take a backseat to realism. My heart couldn’t handle anything else.

Vivian was looking at me with her eagle eyes and I stared back at her blankly. Give her nothing!

After a few minutes Viv sighed, clearly annoyed that I wasn’t peppering her with a million questions. “Yeah, well anyway, the whole crew was there, except you of course, because you had that thing to go to,” she said sarcastically.

We both knew my thing had involved me, our couch, and a whole lot of girlie movies.

And we both knew I was simply avoiding an awkward situation. Even though they were all my friends and I knew they’d want me there, I felt oddly out of place. Now that I didn’t have Mitch at my side, I wasn’t so sure how I fit in.

I was the poor single gal hanging with all of her coupled up friends. I’d be the loser sitting on the couch playing Candy Crush on her phone while her buddies were gettin’ it on.

No thank you.

“Yeah, well you know how things go,” I replied, shrugging.

“You know, one day you’re going to have to talk to him. I hate that there’s this big giant ball of weird whenever the two of you are in the same room. It’s uncomfortable. And uncomfortable makes my skin itch. I don’t want itchy skin. So maybe you should do something about that,” Vivian suggested.

“God forbid you have itchy skin,” I deadpanned.

“Just talk to him. Get back to that annoying Mitch and Gracie place where we can all talk behind your back about how you need to bang as you look at each other wistfully while pretending you aren’t madly in love.”

Sometimes Vivian really overstepped the line. And sometimes she was so on the money it was scary.

But I’d never, in a million years, tell her that. Her ego was out of control as it was.

I shook my head. “He hates me. End of discussion.”

“He hates you like I hate my Rockin’ Rabbit vibrator,” Vivian chastised.

And everyone knew how much Vivian loved her Rockin’ Rabbit vibrator. They had a special thing going on.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I muttered.

Vivian put her phone down again and ignored it when it dinged. She must be about to say something profound if she was ignoring Cole’s dick pic.

“Gracie, I love you. I’ve seen you at your best and I’ve seen you at your worst. And I’d prefer to see either of those than this person you’ve been for the past year.”

I grimaced. “Thanks a lot. I thought I was kicking some ass,” I huffed, trying to make light of her very serious statement. But her words hurt. A lot.

“Do you define kicking ass as days consumed with working and bad TV while pining for a man that you love? Because I think you need to work on re-defining ass kicking.”

Like I said, Vivian could be so on the money. I wanted to hate her for it.

“I’m sober. I’m not bat-shit crazy. I think I’m doing pretty well.” I hated how small I sounded.

Vivian grabbed my hand. “Sweetheart, you’re my sista from another mista, I get you. More than you’d probably like me to. And I know you miss him. That doesn’t negate all the super awesome things you’ve done to get yourself on track. But Mitch is a huge part of your life. Even when he’s not in it.”

“He has a—”

“This isn’t about Sophie. This is about you and that hottie bassist that you used to spend every waking hour with. This about how you would watch that stupid show together and quote the dialogue.”

“Don’t hate on the Fresh Prince,” I warned.

Vivian rolled her eyes. “This about how he’d send you huge packages from the road full of stuff that made him think of you. And how you’d drag me to the grocery store with you before he was due to come home so you could make sure the cupboards were full of all his favorite food like those gross red candy things and that ice cream with monkey in the name. You two were closer than most couples and now you don’t even look at each other. It’s just sad, mi amiga.”

My chest felt tight and I tried to swallow around the large, annoying lump in my throat.

“He’s better off, Viv. Trust me.”

Vivian scowled at me. “If this is about your demons or whatever—”

“Drop it, Vivian. Please,” I interrupted her.

We stared at each other for a long few minutes, but finally she nodded and picked up her phone again.

“You’re making a big mistake by not trying to work things out with Mitch. You love him. You belong together. I know that if you don’t go for it you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Just sayin’. And that’s all I’m going to say about it. This time.”

Her threat was given with a smile, but I knew she wouldn’t let it drop.

My stomach clenched as her words bounced around in my head.

You’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.

I was already swimming in a sea of regret. And I was pretty sure I was going to drown.

“You’re back!” Vivian shrieked, throwing open the front door, letting it bounce off the wall. I watched her from the couch as she propelled herself at the person standing in the hallway.

“Viv, please, let me in before you maul me,” Maysie laughed, pushing her way into the apartment, pulling a suitcase in behind her.

I got to my feet and went to give one of my best friends a hug. “Hey you,” I grinned, wrapping my arms around her thin frame.

Maysie gave me a squeeze. “Hey back.”

Vivian frowned. “Why are you here? What’s wrong?” she demanded, her joy at seeing our friend erased by suspicion.

“Wow, thanks for the warm greeting,” Maysie muttered, sitting down on the couch. She looked tired. Her skin was pale and there were dark circles under eyes.

“You look like shit, Mays. What’s going on?” Vivian asked, sitting down beside her. I joined them and the three of us sat squished together like we had done a hundred times before. If Riley were here it would have felt like old times.

“Vivian, don’t be a dick,” I scolded.

“You are what you love,” Vivian giggled and I groaned.

Maysie laughed, but it sounded halfhearted. “Nothing’s going on. I just needed a break. Living on a bus with a bunch of guys takes a lot out of a girl. Sometimes I need a breather. Nothing to worry about, Viv, so stop freaking out.”

“Things with Jordan okay?” I asked her quietly.

Maysie smiled and it was genuine if a little on the exhausted side. “Yes. We’re fine. Don’t worry. I honestly just missed you guys and wanted to spend some time in a place that doesn’t smell like gym socks and aftershave.” We all laughed. “And things have been tense since the phone call with Pirate. I thought it would be best for the guys to have some time without the wife around.”

Vivian had mentioned that the outcome of the phone call with Pirate Records hadn’t been very positive. The label, unhappy with diminishing album and ticket sales, had told them that unless things turned around, they would have no choice but to drop them. Now the guys felt more pressure than ever to make the last three shows on their tour successful.

“I just wish there was something more that I could do to help them. But Mitch called his cousin Josh, who is now head of marketing for another label, to see if there’s anything more they can do. Pirate isn’t giving them much to work with unfortunately so they’re feeling they have to do it for themselves.” Maysie sighed and I could see how upset she was. If Jordan was bothered by something, then Maysie was too. It’s how they operated.

Vivian got to her feet suddenly. “I need to call Cole. I can’t stand the thought of him worrying about this. He’ll need me!” she exclaimed, dashing from the room.

Maysie shook her head. “It’s hard to believe they used to have a no-strings-attached arrangement.”

I grinned, “Now they’re all pet names and baby talk. It’s nauseating.”

Maysie patted my knee. “Now we just need to find someone for you so we can all be nauseating together,” she teased. I instantly tensed and pulled away slightly.

“I’m fine on my own,” I remarked dismissively. “Who needs a guy when I’ve got Friday nights full of General Hospital marathons and Chinese takeout?”

“Damn, that sounds pretty freaking fantastic! Where do I sign up?” Maysie laughed. “But seriously, I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t fine on your own. We’re modern women after all. We don’t need a man.”

“But you have a man, don’t forget,” I reminded her with my patented Gracie Cook everything-is-fine-here smile plastered all over my mug. I flicked my hair over my shoulder. “Besides he has to be super hot and saves puppies in his spare time for me to even bother.”

“Well of course,” Maysie agreed, patting my knee.

“Well of course what?” Vivian asked, coming out from her bedroom.

“That was a quick conversation. Did Cole even have a chance to put his hands in his pants?” I asked, tongue in cheek.

Vivian pursed her lips. “They were on their way to get something to eat. He said he’d call me later.”

“How did he seem?” I asked after she sat down on the chair opposite us.

“He seemed okay. He mentioned that Josh had called Mitch earlier and given him some advice but Cole didn’t get into specifics.”

Mitch. Ugh. Cue stomach clenching and butterflies.

“Oh. Well that’s good. Josh is a great guy,” I said lamely. Josh was Mitch’s cousin who had helped schedule Generation Rejects’ very first tour years ago. He had been working in the music industry for long enough to know the ropes.

“Let’s talk about something more upbeat,” Vivian remarked, changing the subject abruptly. “How about the wedding? Have you and Jordan finally set a date?” she asked Maysie.

Maysie ducked her head and started playing with a piece of string on the hem of her shirt. “Well it’s hard to plan a wedding when we’re on the road all the time,” she excused and Vivian and I both groaned.

“Come on! You’ve been engaged for forever! Are you going to be one of those couples who won’t get married until you have grandkids?” I asked her, nudging her knee with mine.

Maysie threw her hands up in the air. “I’m surrounded by men most of the time and Jordan is zero help! We know we want to get married this summer. Probably in August. But every time I try to talk to him about it all he says is ‘whatever you want, baby.’” We all started laughing at Maysie’s dead on imitation of her fiancé.

“What about your mom? Could she help you?” Vivian asked hesitantly. Maysie’s relationship with her parents was rocky. It was one of the things that had always connected us. We both understood what it was like to dislike your parents as much as you loved them.

“She’s happy for me, I guess. Though it’s hard to know behind that thin layer of disapproval. It’s difficult to ask for wedding planning help when I’m fending off the usual when are you going to do something with your life questions. Apparently running the band’s social media platforms, maintaining their website and interfacing with the marketing department of the record label isn’t good enough for her. And let’s not even bring up my dad’s feelings about my life,” Maysie huffed.

“Well, we’d love to help you. Hello! Flowers, decorations, cake tasting! I’m all over it,” I enthused.

Vivian was practically bouncing up and down in her chair. “Oh my god, Mays, let us help you! We’ll make it fabulous!”

Maysie face split into a large grin. “You girls are the best. What would I do without you?”

“Get married on the tour bus, and then eat pizza and drink Bud Light at your reception?” I offered.

Vivian leaned down and pulled out a stack of magazines from the side of the coffee table. “It so happens I just bought the newest bridal magazines the other day.”

Maysie and I exchanged a look, each of us raising our eyebrows in surprise. “You’ve been buying bridal magazines?” Maysie asked, not able to hide her amusement.

“Does Cole know what you do in your spare time?” I teased.

Cole Brandt and marriage seemed as incongruous as eggs and ketchup. Some things just weren’t meant to go together.

Vivian stiffened marginally and I wondered if this was a sore spot for her. “A girl can dream, right?” she said breezily. She opened up the magazine on top and flipped through the pages until she landed on a page that had been dog-eared.

“Look at this dress. I saw it and immediately thought of you,” she exclaimed, handing it to Maysie.

I scootched over and looked down at the beautiful woman in a sleeveless wedding gown. It was pretty simple. No long train or elaborate stitching. It was tasteful with a straight skirt that ran to the floor. The scooped neckline was plain but for a line of beads stitched along the edge.

“Wow, it’s amazing,” Maysie breathed, her face going all dewy.

“That dress is perfect for a summer wedding! Oh! You should have an outdoor ceremony. Something small. Just friends and family. Maybe you could have it in the meadow behind Garrett’s. The one that borders the river!” Vivian continued.

“That sounds perfect,” Maysie smiled, running her fingers along the lines of the dress.

“So figure out what day in August you want to get hitched so we can start planning. I think everyone could use something to look forward to,” I suggested.

“Oh my god, we have to wear these bridesmaid dresses!” Vivian squealed, pulling the magazine from Maysie’s lap and turning to another page. When she pointed to a dress I made a face.

“No way, Viv. You are not going to get me in a dress with rhinestones!” I shrieked.

Vivian stuck out her tongue. “If you have your way, the bridesmaids would be wearing something boring with sleeves and a sash.”

“And if you have your way, we’ll all be wearing leopard print with our boobs falling out,” I threw back good-naturedly.

“Okay, no need to duke it out over dresses. I’ll pick something with everyone’s tastes in mind,” Maysie assured us.

We spent the next hour looking through Vivian’s secret stash of wedding magazines while Maysie made notes of what she liked and didn’t like. We called Riley and put her on speakerphone as we hashed out ideas.

“Okay, well before I get off here, are you guys all still planning to come to the show in Norfolk this weekend?” Riley asked as we were winding down the conversation.

“Of course! We wouldn’t miss it. I told Jordan I’d be back on Friday,” Maysie said, closing up the magazines.

“What about you, G, are you coming this time?” Riley asked and I could picture her standing in front of me with her hand on her hip and a no nonsense expression on her face.

“I—uh—I have stuff going on,” I said.

“Is this the same stuff that has kept you from coming to the last ten performances?” Riley pressed and I wished she were here so I could strangle her. She was too invasive for her own good. Or my own good.

“I’m a very busy woman,” I stated forcefully.

“Busy doing what?” Riley pushed.

Vivian snickered. “Yeah, busy doing what?” I glared at my roommate.

“I scheduled a facial for Saturday morning and I had some plans to reorganize my closet. You know how seriously I take de-cluttering,” I muttered, knowing how ridiculous I sounded.

Riley didn’t say anything and Maysie was furiously chewing on her bottom lip. Vivian rolled her eyes and gave me a pointed look that I refused to interpret.

“Oh come on. It’ll be fun,” Riley said and I sighed.

“Fine. I’ll go. But I can’t stay the whole weekend. I need to be back early on Sunday. I have to finish the article I’ve been working on and get it off to my editor,” I caved. I knew my excuses would never hold up against Riley Walker’s pushing and prodding.

Besides, maybe it would be fun. It had been a long time since I had hung out with my friends. And I loved listening to Generation Rejects.

More importantly, I loved watching Mitch Abrams play.

“Woohoo!” Riley shouted and I grinned.

“Let’s plan to meet at the hotel on Saturday evening. I’m getting into town on Friday afternoon, but Viv says she can’t leave until the next day, right?” Maysie asked and the conversation was steered to finalizing plans.

I got up and headed to the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator and by habit searched for a bottle of wine that I had at one time always kept in the door.

Instead I grabbed the jug of orange juice and poured myself a cup.

“Hand me a soda,” Vivian said, coming into the room.

I passed her the can and closed the refrigerator. Vivian pulled a box of crackers from the pantry and handed me some.

I held them in my hand, not eating. I wasn’t particularly hungry so I put the crackers on the counter.

“I’m so glad you decided to come to the show,” Vivian said.

“I don’t think I was given much of a choice. Can you imagine what Ri would do if I told her I wasn’t coming?” I laughed.

“It wouldn’t have been pretty. But whatever, I’m just happy she got you to come. It’ll be like old times,” Vivian exclaimed, grinning.

Old times.

Not quite.

“Sure. Old times,” I agreed unenthusiastically.

Vivian took a drink of her soda, watching me the whole time. Her phone chirped in her pocket and she fished it out, quickly tapping out a text. When she was finished she looked back at me.

“Well, it could be like old times if you’d stop being so stubborn,” she pointed out.

Her phone beeped again and I was relieved for the distraction.

“I think you’re being summoned,” I said.

Vivian’s face went soft. “Yeah. I’d better go call him.”

When she was gone, I picked up the crackers and ate two of them.

Maybe going to the show this weekend would be a good thing. Maybe I could talk to Mitch.

And maybe I could just go and enjoy myself and not worry about what Mitch Abrams was doing or who he was doing it with.

I could just go and be with my friends and forget about the bullshit.

Yeah.

That sounded like a plan.

An extremely unrealistic plan.

I was heading out to lunch when my phone rang. I was instantly filled with dread, thinking it was most likely my mother.

Could I get away with ignoring it?

There was no way. I’d pay for it in spades later if I dared.

So I pulled out my phone from the depths of my purse and glanced at the display and was surprised to see a name I hadn’t expected.

“Hello?”

“Hey there, girlie. Long time, no talk. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.” The lazy drawl made me smile.

I chuckled, instantly in a good mood. “I’m not avoiding you, Garrett. You wouldn’t let me anyway.”

“Damn straight. I know where you live,” he teased.

“Now that’s a threat if I ever heard one,” I joked back, enjoying our easy banter. Garrett Bellows was someone I could not speak to in months and pick up the phone and chat like no time had passed. We had always been close and I was thankful that our friendship hadn’t been destroyed during my downward spiral.

Our friendship began during one of the darkest times of my life. I had been horrible, not only to him, but to his girlfriend and my friend, Riley. But somehow they forgave me. Not only that, but our friendship became stronger than ever.

I hadn’t realized how much I missed him until I heard him on the phone. There was something soothing about Garrett’s slow, easy voice.

“No threat. Just a promise,” Garrett replied.

I stopped outside the deli where I typically got a sandwich for lunch, waiting to go inside. It was cold and the air felt like snow, so I tightened the belt of my coat.

“How’s everything going?” I asked.

Garrett sighed. “They’ve been better. I’m sure you’ve heard things have been pretty rough on the Generation Rejects road to fame.”

“Yeah, Maysie’s in town, she filled me in. I’m so sorry, Garrett. But stuff will turn around. I’m sure of it,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic and confident.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see. But I didn’t call to cry like a bitch on your shoulder, G,” he remarked.

“Oh really? I thought crying like a bitch was totally your thing.”

“Ouch. Man, you can be harsh,” Garrett laughed and I found myself grinning like a fool.

“So what did you call for then?”

“Riley says you’re coming to Norfolk this weekend. That’s great news. It’s been too long.” Garrett’s voice was light but there was a note of accusation.

Here we go again. He and his girlfriend were going to be the death of me. “I’ve been busy, Garrett—”

“Too busy to come to a show? Since when has that stopped you before?”

“Life happens, Garrett. I thought you’d understand that. I’m trying to get myself straight. I have a job writing. Sure it’s not Pulitzer material, but it’s a start. No more slinging coffee for this gal. I have to wear nice clothes and use some semblance of social skills and everything,” I joked.

“That’s awesome. I’m proud of you, kiddo.” And I knew he meant it. Garrett had always had my back. My best interests at heart. But there was a note of something else in his tone that he wasn’t making any effort to hide. “I know you’ve been through a tough time. I can also tell when there’s something else going on here. I know you and I know when you’re hiding something. I’ve seen it before, don’t forget.”

Yeah, he had to go there. I winced at the implication even if it was totally deserved.

I was quiet for a long time, not sure what to say. How do you find the words to admit that you no longer felt like part of a group that you had once belonged to? I didn’t want to tell him that I felt like an outsider. I wouldn’t whine and feel sorry for myself either.

And I certainly didn’t want to admit to Garrett—or anyone– that I couldn’t stomach the sight of Mitch and Sophie. I wanted to try to ignore the pain in the center of my chest that flared to life whenever I saw Mitch hug his girlfriend and kiss her mouth tenderly.

Seeing them forced me to face how monumentally I had screwed up. It made me face how I had thrown away my chance at a happily ever after.

All because I had been scared and too miserable to see what was right in front of my face.

Love.

So I didn’t want to think about how much I missed how our Fresh Prince of Bel Air binges—and yes we’d sing along to the theme song over and over again—or how every time Mitch put gas in his car he made sure to buy me a Baby Ruth candy bar just because they were my favorite.

And I certainly didn’t want to think about how in a room full of people he had always been my safe place. He never left my side and I hadn’t wanted him to.

Mitch’s arm was slung casually around my shoulders. I leaned into him, appreciating the warm solidity.

I was tired. My head hurt. I felt sick from the inside out. It had been less than a month since I had almost died and I still felt hollow and empty.

And I craved a drink so badly I thought I’d go insane.

“My parents are telling me I have to go to rehab,” I whispered, almost scared to raise my voice even though we were alone in my parents’ house.

We were cuddled up together on the couch, the TV on in the background, neither of us watching it even though our favorite show, The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, was on. Mitch had been sitting with me for hours, neither of us really saying anything. There was just something about his quiet, strong presence that healed parts of me that had been broken for a long, long time.

“And what do you think about it?” Mitch asked, his hand slowly rubbing my arm. Up. Down. Up. Down.

I leaned my cheek against his chest, finding comfort in the rhythmic rise and fall. After everything I had done, after all the mistakes I had made, Mitch was still there, offering his support. I was pretty sure I didn’t deserve it, but he gave it anyway.

And he was the only one to really ask what I thought I needed to do. He wanted my opinion. It mattered to him.

I felt the tears on my face, but didn’t wipe them away. “I think I need to change,” I admitted, feeling defeated.

Mitch sat up and turned me around so that I faced him. I looked up into his handsome face and for a moment I was overwhelmed.

I had never taken the time to really, and I mean really, look at him before. I had been completely obsessed with Garrett and trying to make him love me that I totally ignored this beautiful man that had always been there.

His hair was dark brown and on the messy side. It was often in his eyes and he would toss his head to flip it back. He’d give me a shy smile that was so sweet it made my heart pitter-patter. His dark eyes were clear and intense and seemed to see me clearer than anyone ever had.

He really was beautiful. Inside and out.

“You don’t need to change, Gracie. But you need to learn to take care of yourself. To put yourself first. I can’t lose you. Not ever.” He gripped my hands between his. His face was flushed and his eyes flashed with emotion.

“I’ve hurt so many people,” I agonized, trying to turn my head.

Mitch grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. I wanted to close my eyes, to block him out. But I couldn’t. He made me want to listen. To hear everything he had to say.

“Yes, you have. But you’ve hurt yourself most of all. And that’s not okay. Because you deserve to be happy. I only ever want to see smiles on that beautiful face of yours,” he said softly, cupping the side of my neck and running his thumb along my jaw.

We were close. So close.

Too close.

Too much.

I pulled back suddenly and Mitch’s hand fell away. I moved a few inches, putting distance between us.

“Let’s watch some TV. I need something mindless,” I said, forcing a smile that I didn’t feel.

Mitch didn’t say anything else, but he stayed. He always stayed. He was always there.

“There’s nothing else going on. Stop being such a conspiracy theorist,” I teased.

“Yeah, well I for one will be glad to see you. None of these bitches can play Minecraft like you can. They’re weak, G. Weak I tell you!” Garrett complained and I grinned.

“Well, when you put it like that, how can I resist? I can’t have you dealing with subpar gaming on your own. Though I planned to go to my mom’s for dinner.”

“Did you just say you were going to ditch us for your mom?” Garrett sounded horrified and I found myself laughing so hard there were tears rolling down my cheeks.

Several people gave me strange looks as they passed by me to go into the deli. I must have looked a sight, cackling like a hyena in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Well you know how much I love to hang out with my mom,” I said, wiping my eyes.

“Whatever. That’s up there with the old, I have to wash my hair excuse. But seriously, we all miss you,” he said.

We all miss you.

“All of you?” I found myself asking before I could stop myself.

There was a moment of silence. Just long enough to make me feel stupid.

What was wrong with me? Why had I asked that? Way to make things even more awkward.

“Yeah, G. All of us,” Garrett said finally and my heart hammered in my chest.

Neither of us mentioned him by name. We didn’t need to. The implication was there.

I wondered how much Garrett knew.

“Get ready for an epic takedown, though. Because I’m not taking any prisoners just because you’re a chick,” he warned.

“I’d expect nothing less,” I told Garrett, glad he wasn’t mentioned by name. I may have lost the nerve I had gained to finally face him again after so many months of avoidance.

“Good. I’ll see you on Saturday then.”

“I’ll be there with bells on,” I said.

“Bells really aren’t necessary. Just your badass self,” Garrett chuckled.

“I only know how to bring the badass. No worries there,” I replied.

“Later, G,” Garrett said.

“Later, G,” I repeated, hanging up.

“I’m so wet. My panties are drenched, baby. It’s dripping down my thighs. I’m imagining your tongue between my legs and I’m gripping your hair, holding you there. My legs are over your shoulders, my head is thrown back and I’m touching myself—”

“Shit, Viv! Can you take that conversation into your room!” I shouted, throwing a piece of junk mail at my roommate. I had just come into the apartment to find my roommate sprawled out on the couch, her hand down her pants, her back arched up off the cushions.

Vivian pulled her hand from her underwear and scowled at me, as if I were the one in the wrong. Because it was totally acceptable to finger yourself in full view of whoever happened to walk in the front door.

“Hold on a sec, Cole.” She glared at me. “You’re not supposed to be home for another hour,” she accused.

“Well pardon me for coming back before I was supposed to,” I muttered, dropping my purse onto the coffee table. Vivian sat up and re-covered her boobs, which had been on prominent display. I picked up a note from Maysie. Apparently she had gone to Barton’s for dinner and asked me to meet her there. I had a feeling she felt it best to make herself scarce once Viv got on the phone with Cole.

“Don’t get that judgy tone with me. I’ve had to listen to plenty of your antics through our very thin bedroom walls,” Vivian remarked testily.

I wanted to tell Vivian that her point was completely moot given that there had been zero antics in my bed for quite a while. But I could tell she was getting itchy to resume her…uh…activities.

“We’ve talked about having phone sex in the communal space, Vivian. Don’t act like this is something new. I don’t like walking in from a long day to find you masturbating on the throw pillows,” I snapped.

I was in a bad mood. A really bad mood. I had planned to go out to a big country estate out of town that my editor wanted me to cover for my monthly column on unusual gardens. I was supposed to interview the homeowner, take a few snaps and be done with it. It wasn’t supposed to be an all day event.

But I ended up with a flat tire. Then I realized that I no longer had AAA. Then my phone died. So I had to hike five miles to the closest gas station so I could call my dad to change my tire.

When he got there, he lectured me for being irresponsible. For being unable to take care of myself. For apparently being an over all shitty human being. He then went on to tell me that if I was going to need his assistance for “every tiny thing,” that I might as well move back home, as they wanted me to.