Текст книги "Slow Play"

Автор книги: Monica Murphy

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Nodding, I let him take my arm and escort me out of the room, his grip tight, his expression completely shut off. All that remains is his usual emotionless mask, the one he’s so damn good at wearing.

We don’t say goodbye to anyone and so many of them stare at us as we walk past I’m embarrassed. What a way to end the evening. I feel like I ruined everything. Like stupid idiotic Marc ruined so much too. Why isn’t he getting kicked out? Not that I want to stay but everyone automatically assumes Tristan’s the bad guy in this situation.

He is the one who pushed Marc to the ground…

But he did that for me. And no one has ever done anything like that for me before.

We exit the hotel without a word said to each other and as we stomp out into the dark night, I take a deep breath, telling myself not to cry. This situation is not worth my tears. We’ll clear this up. He’s not angry with me. He’s angry with Marc for talking so much shit about me.

By the time we’re both in the car I’m shaking, I’m so nervous. Tristan still hasn’t said anything. He hasn’t even looked my way, started the car, nothing. He just sits in the driver’s seat, staring at the steering wheel, his chest rising and falling rapidly the only indication that he’s actually alive.

“McIntosh,” he finally says, slowly turning his head so he’s looking right at me. “Your last name is McIntosh?”

I stare at him, my mouth dry as I scramble for the right words to say. I should’ve told him sooner but it wasn’t important. Not to me, in any case. Alex McIntosh is the old me. I’m not that girl anymore. “It used to be.”

His mouth screws up into this disgusted little pout, like he just ate something particularly foul. “Used to be? What the fuck does that even mean, Alexandria?

I flinch when he yells, the sound extra loud in the small confines of his car. But he’s still not making a move to leave so I guess we’re having this conversation here.

“I changed my last name. My parents were arrested near the end of my senior year of high school on embezzlement charges. They ran their own investment company and they were charged with stealing millions from their clients. They handled a lot of big accounts involving huge money, and they were really good at it too. Until, I guess, my father got way too greedy and started stealing it,” I explain, my voice, my heart bitter. I’m still not over what they did. I don’t think I ever will be. “Then Mom joined in on the mix and the both of them eventually got caught.”

“So they’re in prison,” he says, his voice flat, emotionless as he stares off into space, his gaze on the windshield.

“Yes,” I admit softly. I wish he would look at me. So he could see how sincere I am. “After our family name got dragged through the courts and the media, once I realized that we lost everything and there was no turning back, I changed my name and moved away. I wanted a new life, a new start. And I’d never get it there. Everyone knew my family’s shame, my shame.”

He looks at me. “Including Marc.”

I nod. “Including Marc.”

Tristan blows out a frustrated breath. There’s no other way to describe it. I can feel his anger, his irritation. And there’s nothing I can do to fix this. “It fucking killed me that he knew those details about you, that he said them so casually, like they were no big deal, while I’m dying to find out anything and everything about you. You never tell me shit.”

I say nothing because he’s right. I bend my head and study my shaking hands, which are clutched together and resting in my lap.

“Just enough. You always tell me just enough to string me along but is it really? Just enough?” I lift my head when I feel him staring at me, our gazes locking. “I don’t give a shit if you’re rich or poor, Alexandria.”

“I know.” I bite my lower lip so I don’t break apart. “I’ve kept this in for so long, I didn’t know how to say it out loud. Sometimes I forgot it ever happened. Once I met Kelli, and you and Shep and Jade and…everyone else, you all helped me forget. For once, I have real friends, a real life. I have a job and school and people who actually care about me. I have a purpose, and I never felt like I had one of those before.”

Does he understand? Does he grasp what he’s done for me? What they’ve all done for me? I would still be that shell of a person, lonely and sad and moving through life without them. Instead I’m lucky enough to have them. And for the first time ever, I’m actually living. I need them.

But I need Tristan more.

“Jesus,” he breathes, punching his steering wheel, making me jump. I watch as he punches it again, his fingers curled into a fist, the knuckles reddened. “Is your father’s name Douglas McIntosh?”

My body freezes. How does he know? “Y-yes.”

He turns in his seat so he’s facing me, allowing me to see the horror and sadness etched into his familiar, handsome features. “Your dad had an affair with my mom. Stole all her money and she tried to kill herself over it.”

I gape at him. “What?” His words aren’t computing. I know my parents stole money. I know they took people’s life savings and spent it all, leaving their victims left with nothing. They devastated and destroyed futures. They took with zero intentions of ever giving back.

Their stories, though awful, never touched me on a personal level. I felt bad but there was nothing I could do for them. At the time, I could only concentrate on what my parents’ actions did to me. How it ruined my life. I wasn’t thinking of anyone else. Just myself.

“Your father had an affair with my mom,” he says slowly. “She tried to commit suicide after he left her and took all of her money with him. Took a bunch of pills but she survived.”

I’m horrified. Could it be true? Did my father really do that?

“Thank goodness she’s still alive,” I automatically say, reaching for him but he jerks his arm away from me before I can grab hold. I lean back in my seat, hurt that he won’t let me touch him when that’s all I want to do right now. He grounds me. Makes me feel whole.

I can see him drift away from me, little by little.

“Like you care,” he mutters, turning so he can focus on the steering wheel once again. “She admitted to me later she’d saved up that money on her own so she could leave my dad. They weren’t getting along. Their marriage has been essentially loveless for years. She wanted to escape but your father took everything and ruined her plans. Almost damn near ruined her life.”

My heart feels like it’s cracking in two. I can’t explain my father’s actions. I can’t excuse what he did either. But is his stealing my fault? His affair with Tristan’s mom, did I make that happen? No. And Tristan is looking at me like I did. Like this is all on me. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say.

No response. I watch him, study his strong, familiar profile. His jaw is like granite, a muscle working there and I know he’s clenching and unclenching his jaw. He’s so tense. And somehow he believes this is my fault.

I don’t know how to convince him otherwise.

“I’m not the one who stole your mother’s money,” I start and he turns on me, his expression hostile, his eyes blazing with anger.

“Is that how you justify it? That you weren’t the one who took it? Did my mom’s money help pay for anything you’ve got on tonight? Your Chanel purse that probably costs five thousand dollars? Those expensive ass shoes?” He’s yelling and I’m cowering in my seat, taking the brunt of his anger. “My parents almost got a divorce over that shit. Things still aren’t right between them. It fucking tore my family apart.”

“It tore my family apart, too,” I whisper, my throat scratchy and raw.

He barely glances in my direction. “I’m sure it was real tough,” he says sarcastically.

I flinch at his words, anger suffusing me. He can be mad. I’ll allow that. I hid something from him and that wasn’t right. I hid something even bigger that I had no idea existed, and that part can’t be held against me. I refuse to take the blame for something I’m not responsible for. It isn’t fair.

But who’s the fool that said life is fair? Was it me? Because no one has ever told me life is fair. It’s not.

It never is.

“Take me home,” I demand quietly when Tristan still hasn’t said anything.

He starts the car, drives me back to my place, and drops me off, never once saying a word.

So neither did I.

“Your misery is breaking my heart and I’m over it. It’s Christmas time. Not let’s-be-sad-and-cry-in-bed-all-day time.” Pointy fingers nudge my shoulder and I roll it back, hoping to discourage my annoying friend from touching me again. “Come on, Alex. Get up. Let’s go for a walk or something. You need to get some fresh air.”

“It’s freezing outside,” I mutter into my pillow, not wanting to go outside, not wanting to go anywhere. “And suicide rates climb the highest during the holidays,” I add just to freak her out.

“Are you serious right now? Because if you’re even contemplating—“

I roll over, glaring at her. The stricken look on her face is almost comical. “I’m not serious. I’m just trying to get you to shut up.”

Kelli glares right back. When she’s determined to get her way, she’s damn near impossible. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“So are you.”

“A walk will do you good.” She makes like she’s going to pull the comforter off my body but I clutch it close.

“It’s too damn cold,” I remind her. God, can’t she just let this go?

“So? It’s winter, it’s supposed to be cold.” Kelli claps her hands together rapidly, the sound annoying in the otherwise quiet of the house. “Get up, sleepyhead. You can’t mope around in bed all day.”

I have been for the last couple of days and everyone’s left me alone. So why is Kelli so hell bent on getting me out of bed now? “Do you have something planned up your sleeve? Because if you do, I’m so over your trickery it’s not even funny. You can try that shit on someone else.”

“Oh yea of little faith. There’s no trickery or shady business linked to this request. I just want you to get out of bed and take a shower. Maybe do your hair. Get dressed and go out with me to Starbucks. I’m lonely and craving a gingerbread latte.” She pauses, her expression going solemn. “Besides, I miss you.”

I roll over on my side, talking to the wall. “Aren’t you supposed to be at home for the holidays?”

“I’m staying a few extra days just for you, grump.” She claps her hands again and I send her a murderous glare from over my shoulder. “Get in the shower and let’s go get coffee and a muffin.”

My stomach rebels against the coffee and muffin suggestion. “That sounds gross.”

“God, maybe you are sick,” she mutters under her breath as she bustles around my bedroom, examining all the clothes and various crap strewn about. With my luck she’ll rifle through my stuff and find the most incriminating thing possible, like my vibrator or my sexy underwear drawer.

“I’m not sick,” I mutter as I crawl out of bed. I did call in sick yesterday at work, which I still feel bad about but no way would I have been capable of dealing with customers when I was such an emotional wreck. I’m scheduled for tomorrow and I’m definitely going in. I can’t hide away from the world forever.

No matter how badly I want to.

I go join Kelli at my dresser, pulling out a few things to bring with me to the bathroom so I can take a shower as she suggested. She won’t let it go so I may as well give in. “Heartbroken, yes,” I tell her. “But sick? No.”

“Fuck that guy, I’m going to kill him the next time I see him, I swear to God,” Kelli says, sounding downright thirsty for blood. Just like Steven acts when he plays Call of Duty. “Who does he think he is, treating you like such shit, when what happened wasn’t even your fault?”

“He’s allowed to think what he wants.” I shrug. “He needed someone to take his rage out on and I was it.” And I did keep something from him. I can’t blame him for being angry over that.

“He’s a bastard,” Kelli says vehemently. She knew him first yet she’s rushing to defend me. I love her for that. “I want to break his ugly face for what he’s done to you.”

I sigh. “He’s not ugly.” Far from it. He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen—both inside and out. He’s not perfect and he says stupid shit sometimes, but his heart is in the right place. At least, I thought it was.

Now I’m not so sure.

“He’s ugly to me. The asshole,” she mutters. “He hurts you, it’s like he’s hurt me, too.”

“I’ll get over it.” Her words touch me and I try not to fall apart and cry. She’s so sweet to take my side, even when I’m not one hundred percent in the right.

“There shouldn’t be anything you have to get over—you did. Nothing. Wrong.” Kelli slaps the top of my dresser, making the whole thing shake. Ikea may make decent furniture but it’s not that strong.

“See, that’s the thing. I did do something wrong. I didn’t tell him about my past, and to him, that was a lie,” I point out. “Plus, my dad had an affair with his mom.” I still can hardly wrap my head around it. Does Mom know? How many affairs did my father have? Was this the only one or were there others?

I’m guessing there were others but I don’t know. And I refuse to talk to him just to ask. Our communication has dropped off completely. It’s like they forgot all about me. What’s worse? I’m used to it.

Used to their shitty behavior.

So why does it hurt so much more when Tristan’s the one who’s being shitty?

It’s been three days since the Marc incident. I haven’t heard from Tristan since. No text, no call, no casual drop by the house, nothing. No one else has heard from him either. He went back home early for the holidays and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Guess that’s the end of us. Typical, that he can’t officially break up with me. But how do you break up a so-called relationship that wasn’t defined in the first place?

“That he would run away like a little boy and not even talk to you about everything is infuriating. And telling. He’s not ready for this kind of commitment.” Kelli makes a little growling noise and waves her hands at me in a shooing motion. “Get in the shower. Maybe we need to go find a bar. Soak our angry feelings in alcohol.”

I laugh and so does she but in an instant, my laughter turns to tears. And then she’s pulling me into her arms, whispering words of comfort as she holds me close. Repeating again and again that he’s not worth it—which just so happens to be Tristan’s favorite thing to say to me.

Just thinking of him saying those words only makes me cry harder.

“I don’t want to leave you here alone for Christmas,” she says when I finally compose myself and disentangle myself from her embrace.

I offer her a watery smile. “Conrad’s staying. And Steven invited us over to his parents for Christmas dinner, so I’ll be fine.” Steven has turned out to be a good friend.

The wistful expression on Kelli’s face is clear. “I’m jealous. I wish I was spending Christmas with my boyfriend.”

“I’ll fight off any and all girls who try to make a play for him,” I say solemnly.

She shakes her head. “What, his cousins at the family dinner? If he likes that sort of thing, then they can have him.”

“He likes you,” I tell her. I’m the envious one. Steven is solid. Not afraid of relationships. They’ve wasted no time. Kelli is his girlfriend and he has no qualms calling her that either.

“He really does,” she says softly. “I thought Tristan liked you too.”

“I think he did. But at the first sign of real trouble he cuts and runs. I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did.” Now I’m the one who sounds bitter, but I can’t help it.

If he’d stuck around, if he’d actually listened to me, then maybe I would’ve gotten through to him. But he threw up those walls. Pulled on that mask he’s so adept at wearing. Withdrew into himself and sent me on my way.

Clearly, he’s done. That he can turn it off that fast hurts. Before Marc interrupted us, he was being so sweet and fun. Spinning me out on the dance floor, the heated look in his eyes just for me. I’d felt connected to him, confident in our growing relationship. That he could let me go so easily…

“I’m taking a shower,” I tell Kelli as I gather up my clothes and start for the door. “Give me thirty minutes. Then let’s get out of here.”

Kelli raises a brow. “Starbucks or a bar?”

“A bar,” I tell her, feeling like a lush but I don’t care. I need a stiff drink. “It’s five o’clock somewhere right?”

“Where the hell are you, man?”

Gabe sounds like he’s far away, which he is. “Colorado. Vail.” I’m standing by my bedroom window, looking outside. My parents have a cabin here. Once I moved out, this is how they spend their Christmases now. It’s snowing like crazy and colder than fuck. But the shops in town are lit up like a Christmas village come to life and my mom calls their ten thousand square foot cabin “cozy”.

Whatever.

“You didn’t tell anyone where you were going.” His tone is accusatory and I feel bad. “You just picked up and left without a trace.”

“I’m sorry. I just—I had to get the hell out of there.”

Gabe’s quiet for a moment. “Did you just tell me you’re sorry?”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, don’t make a big deal about it, okay? Jesus.”

“Your girl is upset.”

I gnash my teeth together. “She’s not my girl.” I’ve done a lot of soul searching these last few days and I’ve come to a realization.

Though Alexandria may have done me wrong, I did wrong by her too. We’ve both fucked up this relationship before it even got a real chance. I don’t know if we can salvage it either.

I don’t know if I’m strong enough to salvage it—or if she wants to fix it with me. She might hate me for all I know. She should. I’ve said it time and again. I don’t deserve her. Even after what she’s done, I know she’s better than me. She’s a good girl trying to make something out of her life. And I’m the bad guy who’s doing his best to burn his down.

“Can I tell you something? Man to man?” Gabe asks, his voice going low. Serious.

I brace myself. “Sure.” What else can I do but agree? He’s going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not.

“Lucy did the same thing to me, you know.” That’s right. I forgot. She did lie to him. From the moment they met she kept up a façade. “Only she told me all sorts of things. Made up an elaborate story that I bought. A story she thought I wanted to hear because she figured I wouldn’t accept her truth.”

“Weren’t you pissed?”

“I was fucking furious. There was so much more involved but…I couldn’t hold what she did to me against her forever. My love for her eventually won out.” Gabe pauses. “Maybe you should let your love for Alex win out.”

“I’m not in love with her,” I immediately start to say but Gabe interrupts me.

“Fine. You don’t love her. But you do care about her. Don’t deny it because we all know it’s true.” Gabe talks right over me when I start to protest. “What do you want more? Utter misery when you’re alone without her? Or having Alex in your life, making your days better? Which one are you going to choose?”

I close my eyes, struggling against his words. I spoke with my mom after I first arrived in Vail about her affair with Douglas McIntosh and she just blew it off like it was nothing, which in turn blew my fucking mind.

What’s done is done, she’d told me. I can’t erase the past but I can move on with my future.

Her words have hung with me ever since.

“People make mistakes,” Gabe continues. “We’re all idiots, just moving through life hoping to survive. But when you meet that idiot who’s your perfect match, don’t you want to go after her? Don’t you want to keep her in your life? Isn’t it better to be two idiots facing the world together than having to face it alone?”

“Did you just call yourself an idiot?” I joke but Gabe doesn’t respond. He’s waiting me out. Blowing out a harsh breath, I relent. “I don’t know what’s wrong or right anymore. Relationships suck.”

“Not if you’re in the right one.”

“How am I supposed to know if what I had with Alexandria was right?”

“If you’re having a hard time breathing, eating, sleeping, and functioning in your daily life, then I’d say those are all pretty strong signs,” Gabe says dryly.

Shit. She’s all I can think about. The sad look on her face when I dropped her off at her house, her eyes full of longing. How angry I’d been when I figured out who her father was. She can’t help who gave birth to her. She isn’t the one responsible for her dad’s actions.

So why did I blame her?

“Since when did you become so knowledgeable about this shit?” I ask him, irritated that he’s actually doling out decent advice. I’m fucking irrational I know, but I can’t help myself.

“I know a kindred spirit when I see one,” he says. “I’ve been in your shoes. And it’s no fun.”

“So what do I do?” I run a hand through my hair and turn away from the window. I don’t care about snow or Christmas or any of that bullshit. I need to talk to Alexandria. I need to make this right.

“Talk to her. Call her. Go to her. Tell her how you feel.”

My automatic reaction is fuck that. I don’t grovel. I don’t apologize. I don’t bother trying to make things right. I never have.

But Gabe’s right. I miss her. I want her in my life. The only one holding me back is—me. If I want her, I have to go after her.

“She probably won’t take my call.”

“Text her.”

“That’s bogus.”

“How else are you going to talk to her? You’re in Colorado, she’s in California.”

I blow out a harsh breath. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

Gabe chuckles. “You’ll thank me later, I promise.”

“I gotta go,” I mutter, making Gabe laugh a little harder. “Hey, dickwad.”

The laughter stops. “Yeah fuck face?” Gabe asks cheerily.

“I’m going to thank you now,” I say quietly, hoping he understands just how much I appreciate him and his friendship. That he reached out to me when no one else did.

“You’re welcome. Now go figure out how to get yourself out of your mess.”

Later that night I’m sitting in bed, my phone clutched in my hand as I contemplate how to approach her. Talking on the phone won’t cut it. I’m fairly certain she’d ignore my call anyway. But she can’t ignore a text, can she?

She could never reply and that would eat me up inside, but it’s the chance I have to take. At least I could get out what I need to say.

I start texting, hitting the back button countless times, erasing what I type. Rewording it. I need to get this just right and it’s hard. I don’t want to fuck it up. I don’t want to risk losing her.

I can’t.

Laying it all on the line isn’t my style. I don’t say flowery words. I’m not a romantic. I’m straightforward to the point that my words tend to do damage more than good. I don’t even mean to be an asshole most of the time. I just have no filter. I say what I want when I want.

Sounds like an excuse, but it’s true.

With Alexandria, I need to be honest. Open. Real. But not blunt. Never blunt. I’ve done that before and hurt her. So bad I might not get her back.

And I have to get her back.

Determination filling me, I start typing once more, my thumbs flying over the keyboard.

I was out to dinner with Kelli, where we both made a vow we wouldn’t check our phones for the rest of the night. It was tough at first but after a while, I was thankful for it. I’m way too dependent on my phone. And it’s not like anyone is texting me.

It was Kelli’s last night here—she’s leaving tomorrow so we wanted to hang out. Drinks and dinner and shopping. I had no one to buy a gift for so I just tagged along, which was actually a lot more fun. The gift giving pressure was off so I could just enjoy myself.

When we got back to my house I gave Kelli her present from me—a Vuitton cross body purse.

“I absolutely cannot accept this,” she says as she turns the purse this way and that, her mouth hanging open, happiness sparkling in her eyes.

“You absolutely can,” I tell her sincerely. “I want you to have it. You’ve been such a good friend to me.” I confessed to her when she forced me out of the house a few days ago how I sell all my expensive handbags on consignment websites and that I was dwindling down to my last purses. Thankfully most of that money is stashed away in savings for future tuition payments but that lucrative gig was about to dry up.

“You’ve been a good friend too. The best.” She tackle hugs me, holding me close, hopping up and down as she practically shouts in my ear, “Merry Christmas to me, whoo hoo!”

Kelli gives me a basket of fun, girlie goodies like lotion and candles, plus a Starbucks gift card because we seem to live there. We are the epitome of the white girls in our yoga pants lovin’ our PSLs. I don’t even care. I’m embracing the cliché wholeheartedly.

“I need to go,” she tells me after we’re done ooh’ing and aah’ing over our gifts. “I’m going to stay the night at Steven’s.” She actually starts blushing.

“Have fun.” I hug her goodbye fiercely, overwhelmed with a wave of emotion I didn’t expect. I swear I’m going to cry. Ridiculous. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” she tells me as I walk her toward the front door. Conrad gives her a hug as she leaves and slaps her ass, making her gasp. The guy is confusing as all get out. She shoves him before she walks out the door. “I hope Felisha kicks your ass, Conrad!”

He shuts the door and smiles at me. “She’s so easy to rile up.”

I send him a pointed look. “Better not ever try to slap my butt.”

“Hell, no. Tristan would kick my ass if I ever touched you.” He holds up his hands and backs away from me, headed toward the living room.

My heart pangs when I hear Tristan’s name. We’d gone the past four hours never mentioning him once. Now I hear it and I’m right back at square one. Miserable. Sad.

Missing him.

Offering Conrad a wan smile, I head to my bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind me before I grab my phone off my dresser and check it.

To find I have text messages from the very one I’m trying to forget.

Tristan.

I miss you. I should’ve never left you without saying goodbye and I’m sure you hate me. I can’t blame you. I fuck up all the time. Say the worst things imaginable. Treat everyone like shit yet somehow you still wanted to stick around with me. And I managed to ruin that too.

I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain. I’m sorry I blamed you for what your dad did to my mom. I’m sorry I tried to beat Marc’s ass.

Scratch that I’m not sorry. I should’ve beat Marc’s ass.

I press my fingers against my lips as I laugh. Feel the tears start to fall down my cheeks as I cry.

I wish you would’ve told me what happened with your family but I understand why you didn’t. I’m not comfortable sharing my family secrets either. I don’t open up easily. I’m sure you realized that quick.

But I want to open up to you. I want to share everything with you. I miss you so damn much. I shouldn’t have come here for Christmas. I’d rather be spending it with you.

I’m full on crying now. It’s all I can do lately and it sucks. But at least these are happy tears.

Alexandria where are you?

Alex?

Ali?

Angel?