Bad Romeo Christmas

  She comes out from behind the counter and gestures for me to follow. "I only have a couple left." We're almost at the back of the store when she stops to scan the shelves. "Ah, yeah. Here they are." She pulls out a stack of books and hands them to me.

  "Oh, wow. These are amazing." The top book is Hamlet, and the cover is a man's face reflected in a shattering mirror.

  "The publisher did a great job," the lady says. "Edgy stuff. Sold real well."

  She goes quiet as I inspect the stack. The others are Much Ado About Nothing and Macbeth, but at the bottom of the pile is exactly what I'm after. Romeo & Juliet is scrawled in elegant handwriting at the top of the cover, and in the center is an incredible image of a shattering glass heart. It doesn't escape me how perfectly that image sums up Ethan and me. We've both spent time living like we were a collection of broken pieces. These days, we still may rattle when you shake us, but it's safe to say we're more whole together than we ever were apart.

  I run my finger over the beautifully imperfect heart and smile. "I'll take it."

  "Want that gift-wrapped, sweetie?"

  "Yes, please."

  I leave feeling smug about how perfect my gift is. I don't mean to be competitive, but there's no way Ethan will find a better present than this. He's going to love it.

  By the time I make it to the restaurant, it's packed. I pull off my coat and gloves as the hostess comes over. "Hi. I'm meeting my fiancéee." Yeah, never really getting used to saying that word in relation to Ethan. "He's tall. Dark hair. Probably said something inappropriate to you."

  She smiles. "Oh, yeah. I know the one. We're slammed right now, so I told him to wait at the bar, and I'd call him as soon as I had a table ready."

  "Thanks."

  She directs me down the back, and I smile when I catch Ethan's tall frame leaning on the bar.

  As I approach, I see he's talking to a woman. Not unusual. When I'm not around, he gets hit on more than a crash test dummy. It comes with the territory of looking like he does. What is unusual is that I kind of recognize the woman. I wrack my brain to figure out who she is. I'm terrible with names, and if I've met her before, I really don't remember.

  I'm a few yards away when she steps closer to Ethan and puts her hand on his chest. It's an intimate move. Not something an acquaintance would do, or even a friend.

  Who the hell is this chick?

  I stand just behind Ethan's shoulder and clear my throat. "Hey."

  They both turn to me, and the woman makes no attempt to hide the head-to-toe assessment she gives me.

  "Hey, there you are." Ethan pulls me into his side, and I can feel the tension emanating from him. "Cassie, this is ... uh ... Vanessa."

  Vanessa? As in the-skank-who-broke-teenage-Ethan's-heart-by-sleeping-with-his-best-friend? I try not to let my shock show, even though I have a crapload of bitterness with her name on it. She was patient zero for the trust issues that kept the two of us apart for so long.

  I've seen her picture, but the woman in front of me is far more glamorous than her teenage self. She's dripping in designer clothing, and her hair and makeup are so perfect, she could go right out and shoot a Dior ad campaign. Meanwhile, I've been walking around in the snow for a few hours and no doubt look like I live out of a dumpster.

  I force myself to smile. "Hi, Vanessa. Nice to meet you."

  "Vanessa," Ethan says. "This is Cassie Taylor." For once, he doesn't qualify my name with 'my fiancéee' or even 'my girlfriend'.

  Dammit, Ethan, if there was ever a time for you to pull your macho possessive bullshit, this is it. Claim me in front of her, for God's sake.

  But he doesn't, and so Vanessa gives me one of those sympathetic smiles some women get when they think their ex has traded down.

  Screw her. I resist the urge to grab her perfectly coiffed head and slam it into the bar.

  "Cassie, hi. So great to meet the woman who finally tamed this beast." She squeezes Ethan's bicep, and I grind my teeth so hard I think I crack the enamel. "He was just telling me you two are engaged. That's ... sweet."

  She says it as if she's describing a colonic.

  I clench my hand in the middle of Ethan's back and grip his sweater, because right now I'm having a moment of total clarity in which I know the precise point I'd need to punch her in the throat to drop her like the sack of shit she is.

  "Dining alone, Vanessa?" I ask. "We can always see if they can fit you at our table."

  Ethan tenses but doesn't say anything.

  Vanessa laughs, like the concept of her being alone is ridiculous. I grip Ethan tighter.

  "No, not alone," she says with a condescending smile. "Just came in for a drink before heading off to a party. But I should let you two lovebirds go. I'm sure you have to discuss cakes and flowers, and whatever else engaged people talk about."

  She leans forward and kisses Ethan on the cheek. "So great to see you, Bear. It's been too long."

  Bear? Gross. I know I'm going to ask Ethan about that, even though I'm certain I'm not going to like the answer.

  She pulls a card out of her purse and hands it to him. "Give me a call if you ever want to reminisce. I work downtown."

  Ethan takes the card without looking at it. "Thanks. Hope you have a good Christmas."

  She raises a perfectly sculptured eyebrow. "You know I will."

  Right on cue, the hostess comes to tell us our table is ready.

  We only take a few steps before Ethan stops and turns back to Vanessa. "Don't suppose you've kept up with Matt over the years, have you?"

  Matt was his best friend in high school. From what I understand, they haven't spoken since Ethan broke Matt's jaw the day after he found him and Vanessa in bed together. One more suitcase of crap in Ethan's collection of emotional baggage.

  Vanessa shrugs. "I haven't seen him for years. But we're Facebook friends. He's married. Has twin girls. Seems pretty happy."

  A shadow passes over Ethan's face. "Good. That's ... good. Do you have a number for him?"

  "Sure. Call me sometime, and I'll give it to you."

  Ethan nods, and we head over to our table. For a long time, we sit there, each pretending to read our menus. The quiet is deafening.

  "You okay?" I ask.

  He looks up, and for a second he looks exactly as he used to in drama school: guarded, defenses up. Then he smiles and shakes his head. "Yeah. Sorry. That was just ... weird." He looks back down at the menu. "Unexpected and weird. She took me by surprise."

  "Do you want to tell me about 'Bear'?"

  He swallows but doesn't look up. "Uh ... yeah. Sure. That's what Vanessa used to call me after she'd been ... teasing me"."

  "Teasing? As in—?"

  He looks at me, and even though it's clear he doesn't want to talk about this, because I asked, he will. "As in ... sexually teasing me. She used to love withholding until I got this certain look on my face. Sort of a wild, rabid expression, I guess."

  I know the exact look. I'd seen it earlier outside La Perla. "Oh. Yeah, I get it." I become engrossed in my menu so he can't tell how sick that knowledge makes me. I thought that look was for me alone. Apparently not.

  "Cassie –"

  "So, do you want to share a pizza, or—?"

  "I don't look at you the same way I used to look at her."

  I nod, and scan the list of pasta. "Of course you don't. I didn't think that –"

  "Yes, you did." He pulls my menu down, and his eyes scream concern. "I know meeting her is uncomfortable for you. I understand. God knows, I can't even pretend I'm okay thinking about you with another man. But don't let her get under your skin. She'd love that. Why do you think she called me Bear in the first place? She knew you'd ask me about it."

  I know he's right, but he's also aware that switching off one's insecurities is easier said than done. As much progress as I've made with Dr. Kate in the past few months, sometimes old habits resurface. Because of his past, Ethan is an expert in recognizing the symptoms. He watches to see if I want to d
iscuss it. I don't, even though my mind is churning with a hundred questions about Vanessa. I know the answers won't make me feel better, so I force myself to smile instead.

  "You're right," I say. "I'm sorry. Let's just have a nice night."

  He takes my hand, and after he presses a reassuring kiss to my palm, we go back to perusing our menus.

  "Do you think you'll call her?" I ask, keeping my tone casual.

  He shrugs. "I'd like to get Matt's number. He's reached out a few times over the years, and I've always ignored him. Maybe I should make an effort to clear the air. I feel like I've grown enough to give him the apology I should have offered years ago."

  "Did Vanessa apologize to you?"

  He laughs. "God, no. She has a lot of items in her bag of tricks, but apologizing isn't one of them. It doesn't matter. I forgive her anyway."

  I drop my menu. "You do?"

  He gives me a self-satisfied look. "One hundred percent. I'm actually glad I saw her tonight."

  Well, that's something I never expected him to say. I want to ask him more, but right now my anxiety is making my skin hot and my pulse race. He has this kind of wistful, nostalgic look on his face, and I've never seen that before when he's spoken about Vanessa.

  Even when I hated Ethan, I still thought of him as my first love. That's why what happened with him hurt so much. He was my first and only. But seeing Vanessa tonight reminds me I wasn't his. She was. He loved her so much it ruined him when she betrayed him.

  If she hadn't slept with Matt, would she and Ethan still be together? Would he be planning his wedding to her right now, instead of me?

  A waitress comes over and pours our water. "Would you like to start with something to drink?"

  Ethan opens his mouth to order wine for both of us as he usually does, but I cut him off. "Vodka and tonic, please. A double would be great."

  It turns out to be the first of many.

  ···

  The Apartment of Cassandra Taylor

  New York City, New York

  The next morning, I wake up to an empty bed. I squeeze the heel of my hand into my eye socket as a sharp pain fires behind my eyes. "Oh, ow."

  Dumb vodka. Dumb me for drinking it. Dumb Ethan for letting me.

  He'd asked me several times if I was okay during dinner, and each time I'd waved off his concerns. He knew I was lying, but he let me wallow. Pressing me to talk when I'm battling dark thoughts makes me a tad aggressive. He's been there, done that, and knows very well that sometimes when logic fails, alcohol triumphs.

  Of course, he also knows that alcohol usually makes me horny, so his motives weren't all selfless. He'd given his stamp of approval when I'd slid my bare foot up his leg beneath the table and into his lap. After that, he'd had trouble speaking. Who knew my foot was so skillful?

  I continued to tease him for the rest of the night. Did I really return from the bathroom and tell him I'd removed my panties? Yep. Did I swirl my tongue around my spoon in the most provocative way possible as I'd eaten dessert? Yep. Did I take his hand and kiss his knuckles, before coyly sliding his index finger into my mouth as we waited for our check? Yes, I did. All of the above, plus more.

  I wanted to remind him of how good I could make him feel. That I was the one he wanted. Not her.

  That's why I was thrilled when he practically dragged me home in record time. I wasn't surprised when he threw me over the back of the couch as soon as we'd gotten through the door and proceeded to rip off just enough clothing in order to fuck me roughly from behind. With his newfound sensitivity, doggy-style isn't a position he initiates because he prefers to be able to look into my eyes, but when I push him hard enough, he'll release his inner caveman and go there. And God, that side of him is intoxicating. Especially when I'm feeling unworthy and in need of punishment.

  I'd tried to push Vanessa out of my thoughts while Ethan was inside me, but every time he grunted and growled as he thrust, all I could think of was Bear.

  I sit up and rub my eyes again. There's a definite soreness between my legs this morning, but at least it distracts me from my hangover; both from the alcohol, and from bitchface Vanessa.

  I cock my head and listen. I can hear Ethan's voice somewhere in my apartment. Ordinarily I'd think he was talking to Tristan, but it's Saturday, and Tris is already at the yoga studio, aligning people's downward dogs and beating inner peace into them, whether they like it or not.

  I pull on one of Ethan's old T-shirts I use as a nightie and crack open the door. His voice is coming from the kitchen. I sneak down the hallway and see him sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar, naked except for the towel wrapped around his waist. By the look of his hair and the delicious smell emanating from him, I assume he's already showered. His back muscles flex as he leans on the counter, his phone up to his ear

  "I just didn't think I'd feel like this," he says quietly. "I mean, after everything we went through in high school, for God's sake. All the anger and bitterness I carried around for goddamn years. I didn't think it was possible, you know?" He listens for a few moments then chuckles. "Yeah, well, you always seemed to know me better than I knew myself. Still, you could at least pretend to be surprised. I have a life-changing epiphany, and you're all, 'yeah, I figured that would happen.' It's not good for my ego."

  Goosebumps crawl up my spine the same time a bout of nausea hits me. I'm dreaming right now. I have to be. This can't be happening. He said he might call Vanessa, but I didn't expect it to happen so soon.

  He rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, Cassie's still sleeping. I haven't said anything to her yet. I wanted to speak to you first." He pauses. "I don't know how I'm going to explain it. I guess I'll just be honest. After everything I've put her through, I owe her that." He picks an apple out of the fruit bowl and rolls it in his hand. "Yeah, I think it's a good thing, too. Can I see you this week?" He chuckles again. "So you suggest we meet then tell me you're too popular to see me? Fine. Sort out your schedule and text me when you're free. I've missed you." He signs off then takes a bite out of the apple.

  He's missed her? Missed her?!

  I struggle for a few seconds with the urge to confront him, but if I don't want my head to explode in jealousy, I'm going to need to be way less hungover when we discuss this.

  Accepting my own cowardice, I creep back down the hallway and crawl back into bed. As if my head wasn't pounding enough this morning, now this. He's missed her, so he's going to see her.

  Of course he is.

  I never truly thought about what would happen if he saw Vanessa again, but I guess now I know. He's going to see her and realize he's still in love with her, and then, boom. That'll be it for us. Engagement, off. Wedding, canceled. It'll be time for me to buy a whole bunch of cats and be forever alone.

  I press the heels of my hands into my eye sockets and take deep breaths.

  Calm down, Cassie. You're projecting. Ethan loves you. He'd never hurt you like that. Stop letting old wounds dictate your state of mind.

  It's amazing how I always hear my affirmations in Dr. Kate's voice. Right now, she'd be disappointed I'm jumping to the worst possible conclusion. I've gotten better at not doing it, but I guess I'm not bullet-proof just yet.

  I almost scream in surprise when warm hands close around my wrists, and I open my eyes to see Ethan pulling them away from my face. "Hey. You okay?" He's sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at me with concern. "God, sweetheart. You don't look well. Are you going to hurl? Should I get a bowl?"

  I almost laugh. Hangover vomits are the least of my troubles right now.

  "I'm fine," I say and take his hand. "Just feeling a bit woozy. Nothing more sleep won't fix."

  He leans over and kisses me gently. "Do you want me to stay? I have some errands to run for Mom, but I can always do them later."

  "No, that's okay. I know if you miss out on those limited-edition ornaments out in Brooklyn, Maggie's going to freak out. I'll be fine."

  He kisses me again. "If you're sure."
r />   He gives me a smile then proceeds to get dressed. I try to keep my breathing calm while trying to imagine him ever meaning as much to Vanessa as he does to me. I can't do it. There's just no way any other woman could possibly love him as much as I do.

  "So," I say, trying to be casual. "You're going to see Vanessa?"

  He sits on the edge of the bed as he tugs on his boots. "I don't know. I mean, we haven't made a time to meet or anything. Why? Would it bug you if I did?"

  "A little." Okay, so that's a massive understatement, but any honesty right now is a step in the right direction.

  Ethan gives me a sympathetic look. "Cassie, if clearing the air with Vanessa bothers you even a little, I won't do it. Just say the word. Nothing is as important to me as you."

  Aaaand, now I feel like an idiot for even bringing it up. "No, it's fine. Really." The logical part of me knows it would be healthy for him to confront her about how she treated him in the past. If I denied him that, I'd never forgive myself. "You should do it. I mean, you never got closure with her, right? It would be good to finally put the whole betrayal thing behind you."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yes, absolutely." Jesus, okay, idiot. Don't oversell it.

  He finishes lacing his boots and leans over to kiss me. "Okay, I'll organize it. But remember, you can abort the whole thing at any time. And if you want to come with me, I'm fine with it."

  I shake my head. "That would be weird. You guys have stuff to hash out. I'd just be an awkward distraction."

  "Well, you're always a distraction. Even when you're not with me." He gives me a lusty smile. "So, I'd better take off. I'll see you at the theater tonight?"

  "Yep. I'll be there." I may be a raging jealous freak by then, but I'll be there.

  "Love you."

  "Love you, too."

  You'd think that would be enough to reassure me I have nothing to fear from Vanessa, right?

  If only.

  If. Only.

  THREE

  Ethan

  The Home of Maggie and Charles Holt

  New York City, New York