“Yeah. I’m ready to start fresh somewhere, may as well be Seattle.”
I hug my arms around my body in excitement. “No England, then?” I give him one last chance to bring up the wedding.
“Nope. No England.”
I’ve already won the Great Battle of Seattle, so when the niggling irritation about the wedding flares up again, I don’t push my guy any further tonight. Whatever’s going on with that, I’m going to get what I want: Hardin in Seattle, with me.
chapter
one hundred and twelve
TESSA
When my alarm sounds the next morning, I’m exhausted. I barely slept at all. I spent hours tossing and turning, always on the brink of sleep but never achieving it.
I don’t know if it was the excitement over Hardin agreeing to move to Seattle, or if it was the looming discussion we’re bound to have about England, but either way, I got no sleep, and now I look like hell. Dark shadows aren’t as easy to hide with concealer as the cosmetics companies would have you believe, and my unruly hair looks as if I stuck my finger into a light socket. Apparently the joy I felt about him moving here couldn’t completely eliminate the underlying anxiety about his lying by omission.
I take Kimberly up on her offer to ride to work together this morning, buying myself a few extra minutes to apply another coat of mascara while she recklessly whips in and out of lanes on the freeway. She reminds me of Hardin, cursing at nearly every car and honking more often than any reasonable person needs to do.
Hardin hasn’t mentioned whether or not he’s still planning on coming to Seattle today. When I asked him just before we got off the phone last night, he told me he’d let me know in the morning. It’s close to nine now, and I haven’t heard from him. I can’t shake the feeling that something is happening within him, something that if not handled properly will cause us more turmoil. I know Steph got to him; I can tell by the way he’s doubting everything I say. He’s keeping things from me again, and I’m terrified of the problems this could lead to.
“Maybe you should go back this weekend instead of having him coming to you,” Kimberly suggests between cursing out a semi and a MINI.
“It’s that obvious?” I ask, lifting my cheek from the cold window.
“Yes, very obvious.”
“Sorry, I’m being such a downer.” I sigh.
Going back this weekend isn’t a bad idea. I miss Landon terribly, and it would be nice to see my father again.
“You are.” She grins at me. “But that’s nothing a little coffee and some red lipstick won’t fix.”
When I nod my agreement, she quickly exits the highway, makes a U-turn in the middle of a busy intersection, and says, “I know a great little coffee shop nearby.”
BY LUNCHTIME, my morning blues have disappeared, although I still haven’t heard from Hardin. I texted him twice but ultimately stopped myself from calling him. Trevor is waiting for me at an empty table in the break room, two plates of pasta in front of him.
“They sent double my order, so I figured I’d save you from a microwave meal for at least one day.” He smiles, sliding a packet of plastic eating utensils across the table.
The pasta tastes as savory as it smells. The delicious Alfredo sauce reminds me that I skipped breakfast this morning, and I flush when a small moan falls from my mouth as I take my first bite.
“Good, huh?” Trevor beams, wiping his thumb across the corner of his mouth to capture a drop of the creamy sauce. He brings his thumb to his mouth, and I can’t help but think how odd the causal gesture looks on a man who’s wearing a suit.
“Mmm . . .” I can barely answer, because I’m too busy shoving noodles in my face.
“I’m glad . . .” Trevor’s deep blue eyes dart away from mine, and he shifts in his seat.
“Is everything all right?” I ask him.
“Yeah . . . I . . . well . . . I wanted to talk to you about something.”
And like that, I begin to ask myself if the double meal wasn’t in fact purposely ordered.
“Okay . . .” I respond, hoping this isn’t going to be too awkward.
“It may be a little awkward.”
Great. “Go on,” I say with an encouraging smile.
“Okay . . . here goes.” He pauses and runs his fingertip over a silver cuff link. “Carine has asked me to attend Krystal’s wedding with her.”
I take the opportunity to shovel a forkful of pasta into my mouth so I don’t have to speak just yet. Really, I’m not sure why he’s telling me this, or what I’m supposed to say. I nod, pushing him to continue, and try not to laugh thinking the funny Carine imitation Kimberly was doing yesterday.
“And I was wondering if there was any reason that I should say no to her,” Trevor says. He pauses to look at me like he expects a response.
I’m positive that the choking sound I make frightens him, but when he shoots me a look of concern, I hold up one finger and continue chewing, thoroughly, then swallow rather dramatically before responding. “I don’t see any reason for it.”
I hope that’s the end of that. But when he goes on to say “What I mean is . . .” all I can hope is that he magically guesses that I, in fact, know exactly what he means and will just sort of let that sentence trail off without further explanation.
No such luck.
“I know you’re on and off with Hardin, and I also know this is one of those ‘off’ times, so I just wanted to be sure before I accept her proposal that I can give her my full affection. Without distractions.”
I’m not sure what to say, so I quietly ask, “Am I a distraction?”
I feel so uncomfortable, but Trevor is so sweet, and his cheeks have turned such a deep shade of red, that I feel an overwhelming urge to comfort him at the same time.
“Yes, you have been since you came to Vance,” he says, rushing the words out. “I don’t mean that in a bad way; it’s just that I’ve been waiting in the background, and I wanted my intentions to be clear before I explored the possibility of a relationship with someone else.”
My very own Mr. Collins sits in front of me—a much more handsome version, of course—and I feel just as awkward and embarrassed for him as Elizabeth Bennett did in Pride and Prejudice.
“Trevor, I’m sorry I—”
“It’s okay, really.” The sincerity in his eyes is almost overwhelming. “I get it. I just wanted to confirm it one last time.” He pokes at his pasta a little, then adds, “I guess the last few times hadn’t done it for me.” He laughs quietly, a nervous laugh, and I join in sympathetically.
“She’s lucky to have you as a date to the wedding,” I say, hoping to numb the embarrassment I know he feels. I shouldn’t have compared him to Mr. Collins; he’s not nearly as aggressive or obnoxious. I take a long drink of water, hoping that will end things.
“Thank you,” he says, but then he adds with a little smile, “Maybe now Hardin will stop calling me ‘fucking Trevor.’ ”
I smack my hand against my mouth to stop the water from spewing from my mouth. I swallow quickly, then say, “I didn’t know you knew about that!” My horrified laugh fills the small room.
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Trevor’s eyes shine with humor, and I’m so relieved that we can share a laugh, as friends, with no confusion.
My momentary bliss is cut short when Trevor’s smile disappears, and I turn around to follow his gaze to the doorway.
“It smells so good in here!” one of the gossips says to the other as she enters. I feel petty for the level of dislike I feel for them, but I can’t help it.
“We should go,” Trevor whispers, eyeing the shorter woman.
I stare back at him, puzzled, but get to my feet and toss the empty Styrofoam box into the trash can.
“You look stunning today, Tessa,” the taller of the two says. I can’t read her expression, but I’m positive that she’s mocking me. I know I look like hell today.
“Um, thank you.”
“It’s such a small world,
you know? Is Hardin still working for Bolthouse?”
My purse slips off of my shoulder, and I quickly grab the leather strap before it hits the floor. She knows Hardin?
“Yup, still is,” I say and straighten my back in an attempt to appear completely unfazed at the mention of his name.
“Tell him I said hey, would you?” She smirks, and with that, she turns on her heel and disappears, along with her evil sidekick.
“What the hell was that?” I ask Trevor after checking the hall to be sure the two aren’t lurking around nearby. “Did you know they were going to say something to me?”
“I wasn’t sure, but I suspected it. I overheard them talking about you.”
“What about me? They don’t even know me.”
He’s uncomfortable again. Trevor is easier to read than anyone I’ve ever met. “It wasn’t about you, exactly . . .”
“They were talking about Hardin, weren’t they?” I ask and he nods, confirming my suspicion. “What exactly did they say?”
Trevor tucks the corners of his bright red tie into his suit. “I . . . I don’t really want to repeat it. You should ask him.”
Given Trevor’s reluctance, I suddenly shiver at the thought that Hardin may have slept with one of them, or both. They aren’t much older than I am: twenty-five at the most, and, I have to admit, both beautiful—in an over-the-top, too-much-spray-tan way, but attractive all the same.
The walk back to my office is long, and a strong feeling of jealousy starts gnawing at me. If I don’t ask Hardin about the woman, I think I’ll go insane.
The moment I get to my office, I call him. I need to know if he’s coming here tonight, and I need some reassurance.
Zed’s name flashes across my phone screen before I can bring up Hardin’s name in my contacts list. I flinch a little, but decide I might as well do this now.
“Hey,” I say. But I sound “off”—too excited, too fake.
“Hey, Tessa, how’s it going?” Zed asks. It feels like it’s been so long since I’ve heard his smooth voice even though that isn’t the case.
“It’s . . . going.” I lay my forehead against the cool surface of my desk.
“Sounds rough.”
“It’s okay, just a lot going on.”
“Well, that’s why I called you, actually. I know I said I was going to be in town Thursday, but I’ve had a change of plans.”
“Oh?” Relief washes over me. I look up at the ceiling and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Well, it’s okay. Next time it’ll work—”
“No, I mean I’m actually in Seattle right now,” he says, and instantly my heart rate skyrockets. “I got in last night; had a hell of a drive. I’m only a few blocks away from your office, actually. I won’t bother you there or anything, but maybe we could grab some dinner or something when you’re done for the day?”
“Um . . .” I glance at the clock. It’s fifteen minutes past two, and Hardin still hasn’t responded to my messages. “I don’t know if that’s good for me, actually. I think Hardin is coming in tonight,” I admit.
First Trevor, now Zed. Did the extra mascara this morning bring along some weird juju with it or something?
“Are you sure?” Zed asks. “I saw him out yesterday . . . it was pretty late.”
What? Hardin and I got off the phone around eleven last night. Could he have gone out again after we got off the phone? Has he been spending time with his crew of so-called friends again?
“I don’t know,” I say and dramatically hit my head against my desk, too gently to do any damage but hard enough that I know Zed can hear through the line.
“It’s only dinner. Then I’ll let you get to whatever plans you have,” he coaxes. “It’ll be nice to see a familiar face, yeah?” I can picture his smile now, the one that I adore so much.
So I ask, “I rode in to work today with someone, so I don’t have my car. Could you pick me up at five?” And when he happily agrees, I’m both thrilled and terrified.
chapter
one hundred and thirteen
TESSA
Five minutes before five o’clock I try to call Hardin, but he doesn’t pick up. Where has he been all day? Was Zed right when he said that Hardin was out late? It’s possible that he’s on his way to Seattle and is planning to surprise me, but really, what are the odds of that? My meeting with Zed has been weighing on my chest since the moment I agreed to it. I know Hardin hates our friendship. He hates it so much that it haunts him in his dreams, and here I am, fueling that hatred.
I don’t bother to check my hair or touch up my makeup before taking the elevator down to the lobby, studiously ignoring Kimberly’s critical gaze. I probably shouldn’t have informed her of my plans. Through the plate-glass windows, Zed’s truck is visible, and is a beautiful sight for me, and I can’t ignore the excitement I feel to see a familiar face. I’d rather it be Hardin’s, but Zed’s here, and Hardin isn’t.
Zed climbs out of his truck to greet me as soon as I step out of the building. His smile grows as I walk across the sidewalk, and I see that his face is now covered by dark hair. Dressed in black jeans and a gray long-sleeve shirt, he looks as handsome as ever, and I look like death.
“Hey.” He smiles, opening his arms for a hug.
Uncertainty floods through me, but the need to be polite pushes me into his waiting arms.
“It’s been a while,” he says into my hair.
I nod in agreement and ask, “How was your drive?” as I pull back from the embrace.
He blows out a breath. “Long. But I got to listen to some pretty good music on the way.”
He opens the passenger door for me, and I hurry to get inside and out of the cold air. The cab of his truck is warm and smells like him.
“What made you decide to come today instead of tomorrow?” I ask, to begin the conversation as Zed hesitantly pulls into traffic.
“It was just . . . a change of mind, nothing, really.” His eyes dart back and forth between the rearview and the side mirrors.
“Driving in the city is intimidating,” I say to him.
“Yes. Very.” He smiles, still focused on the road.
“Do you know where you want to grab dinner? I haven’t done much exploring yet, so I don’t know where the best spots are.”
I check my phone; nothing from Hardin. So I pull up some restaurant options on an app, and after a couple minutes, Zed and I decide on a small Mongolian Style grill.
I GO WITH the chicken and vegetables and watch in awe as the chef prepares the food in front of us. I’ve never been to a place like this before, and Zed finds that amusing. We’re seated in the very back of the small restaurant, Zed sitting across from me, and we’re both too quiet for it to be comfortable.
“Is something wrong?” I ask him while picking at my food.
Zed’s eyes are soft and full of worry. “I don’t know if I should even bring it up . . . You seem like you’ve got so much going on already, and I want you to have a nice time.”
“I’m fine. Tell me whatever it is that you need to.” I brace myself for the unknown blow I’m sure is about to land.
“Hardin came to my place yesterday.”
“What?” I can’t hide the surprise in my voice. Why would Hardin do that? And if he did, how is it that Zed is sitting here without any bruises or missing limbs? “What did he want?” I ask.
“To tell me to stay away from you,” he promptly answers.
When I mentioned Zed’s text message to Hardin last night, he seemed so indifferent about the situation. “What time?” I ask, hoping it was after we talked about not keeping things from each other.
“Afternoon, around three.”
I let out an exasperated breath. Sometimes Hardin has no boundaries, and his list of offenses is growing by the second.
I rub my temples, my appetite having disappeared. “What did he say, exactly?”
“That he didn’t care how I did it, or if I hurt your feelings, just that I need
ed to stay away. He was being so calm, it was kinda freaky.” He stabs his fork at a piece of broccoli and pops it into his mouth.
“And you came here anyway?”
“Yes, I did.”
The testosterone-fueled battle between the two of them is wearing me out, and I’m on the sidelines, trying to keep the peace but failing. “Why?”
His golden eyes meet mine. “Because his threats aren’t going to work on me anymore. He can’t tell me who to be friends with, which is something I hope you feel the same way about.”
I’m beyond irritated that Hardin went to Zed’s apartment like that. I’m even more irritated that he didn’t say anything to me about it, and that he wanted Zed to hurt my feelings and end our friendship while keeping his role in the whole exchange hidden.
“I feel the same about Hardin controlling who I’m friends with.” As the words leave my mouth, Zed’s eyes fill with triumph, which also bothers me. “But, I also think he has good reasons for not wanting us to be friends. Don’t you?”
Zed shakes his head amicably. “Yes and no. I won’t hide my feelings for you, but you know that I don’t push them onto you. I told you that I’ll take what you can give me, and if friendship is all I can get, I’ll live with it.”
“I know you don’t push.” I choose to respond only to half of his statement. Zed never pushes me to do anything, and he never tries to force me into anything, but I hate the way he talks about Hardin.
“Can you say the same for him?” Zed challenges, looking at me intensely.
The urge to defend Hardin makes me say, “No. I can’t. I know how he is, but that’s just who he is.”
“You’re always so quick to defend him. I don’t get it.”
“You don’t have to get it,” I say harshly.
“Really?” Zed says quietly and frowns.
“Yes.” I straighten my back and sit up as tall as I can manage.
“It doesn’t bother you how possessive he is? He tells you who you can be friends with . . .”