Co-WRECKER

  Standing a mere fifteen feet away is Andrew, looking fine as ever, talking to Michelle and laughing up a storm. What could she possibly be saying that’s so funny? I’ve held many conversations with her, and she’s not very funny, more annoying than anything.

  “If you stare a little harder, you’re going to give yourself away,” Denise, the mother hen, says as she comes up next to me at the soup and salad station. “Five Caesar salads; help me out.”

  I don’t even bother to hide it from Denise, as she can see through me, and she can definitely tell when I’m lying. “Am I that easy to read?” Helping her out, I place five bowls on the counter and start filling them with her.

  “No, I just know what longing looks like. Many moons ago, I once carried around that look. Tell me, did you break his heart, or did he break yours?”

  “I don’t think hearts were involved, not yet at least. He wanted more from me emotionally, and I wasn’t ready to give him what he wanted. I assumed something horrible of him, and he decided to end things.”

  Denise nods. “You know I love you, right?” No, I didn’t know that, but I nod. “Good, because you are being dumb right now. Look at that boy, Sadie. He’s kind, sweet, handsome, smart, and has a good head on his shoulders. He’s a four-leaf clover in a field of weeds; you don’t let men like him slip through your fingers.” She tops the salads with croutons and stacks them on a tray. “I suggest you fix what you broke, because you’ll regret not jumping in feet first when it comes to him.”

  Spinning on her heel, she takes the salads out to her table, leaving me feeling even worse than before.

  Just as I’m about to welcome another table, Stuart pats me on the shoulder and tells me to take my break. Usually I would protest, wanting to gather as many tips as possible, but today I take the much-needed time out and head straight to my car where I roll down the windows, tip back the seat, and stare at the grey ceiling of my little vehicle.

  Fix things. Is that even possible? He was so angry the other day when he walked out of my apartment. This is the third day I’ve had to work with him, and each day it seems to get worse and worse. Seeing him smile when it’s not directed at me. Watching him move flawlessly around the fountain area, it only reminds me how smooth he moved around me in bed. And hearing that laugh, the one that still rumbles through my heart? It’s torture.

  When did he become so ingrained in my life? Essential. When did he matter so much to me? When did this become more than a fling to me? Because I can’t remember; it’s like it ambushed me, leaving me no other option than to feel like utter crap when it fell apart.

  Freaking wonderful.

  I bang the back of my head against the headrest a few times, wishing there was an easy solution to all this.

  And then my phone rings. As weird as it seems, I unconsciously sense who it is. When I look down at the caller ID, I nod. “Of course.”

  “Hi, Tucker.”

  “Sadie, what’s wrong?” He’s known me for a long time, so doesn’t take long to notice my despondency.

  “Nothing, just tired from work. What’s up?”

  He pauses, probably considering my lie but deciding not to acknowledge it. “Just checking on my girl. I haven’t heard from you in a bit, and I wanted to make sure everything is okay.”

  I’m not his girl, but I’m too tired to argue. “Everything is fine. Just working, nothing new.”

  “You didn’t sign up for any classes for the fall?”

  “I told you I can’t go back to Cornell, Tucker. First of all, I can’t afford it, and second of all, I don’t think they would take me again.”

  Why do people KEEP insisting I consider going back to school? It’s starting to get frustrating.

  “I didn’t know if you were going to do some junior college credits or anything.”

  “No.” Anger boils up in me. “What’s with everyone getting on my case about going back?”

  “Maybe because we know your potential, and you’re not reaching it right now.”

  I laugh sarcastically. “Maybe you should have thought of my potential before you decided to impregnate me.”

  It’s a low blow and if he was here in person, I know he would be grinding his teeth together, his jaw in a hard-set line. “You know I didn’t do that on purpose. The condom broke, and there was nothing I could do. And if you talked to me before you dropped out, we could have made it work.”

  “No, we couldn’t have.”

  “Christ,” he yells into the phone. “You don’t know that, Sadie. You didn’t even give us a fucking chance. You didn’t give me a chance to prove to you I could be the guy you needed. How was that fair to me?”

  I don’t answer him, because honestly, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to respond. I have so much anger, so much hurt, so much disappointment when it comes to this chapter in my life that I don’t know how to let it go. But really, why should I get the chance to make something of myself when the baby I carried within me died? My mother never gave a shit about me, my sisters barely acknowledge my existence, and the man I began to see a future with, didn’t think I was worth trying for either. I’m just so lost. So empty. So alone.

  Is Tucker right? Do I not give anything or anyone a chance? Was Andrew right? Was I looking for a way out from the start?

  Sighing, I rub my eye with my palm. “I don’t want to fight about this, Tucker.”

  “That’s your problem, Sadie, you don’t want to fight. You never want to fight for what’s important. You just drop it and let it stew and brew, making yourself so fucking miserable that you treat everyone around you like they’re marginal, compared to you.”

  Ouch.

  His words cut deep and even though I want to deny them, I know a part of him is right, which hurts even more.

  “I can’t do this right now, Tucker.”

  “Yeah, I’m not surprised, you never can.” He lets out a long breath and then says, “I still want to meet up with you when I get back. I have a lot to say, and you owe me to listen.”

  “I know.” Boy, do I know. It’s a conversation I’ve been dreading ever since he asked for it.

  “Listen, I’m sorry I got heated. It’s just, you frustrate me so fucking much, Sadie. I’m trying, dammit. I want to make things right, and you’re not letting me.”

  “But you want something that’s dead, Tucker. We are done. I need you to understand that.”

  “Not until we talk,” he replies, so sure of himself. “Got to go. I’ll talk to you later. I love you, Sadie. That will never fucking change.”

  With that, he hangs up, throwing my entire world for a loop. A year ago, those words would have made my entire life brighter, but not now. My life remains dull and bland. Empty.

  The only thing that brightened my days was Andrew. Seeing him. Laughing with him. Being touched by him. Talking with him. Now I don’t even have that.

  Andrew wasn’t lying to me. I have no idea why his roommates were topless, but I do know him better than that. He wouldn’t lie to me.

  But he said he was done.

  Done trying.

  With me.

  Even though Tucker’s conversation hurt, there is one thing he said that’s on repeat over and over in my head. “You never want to fight.”

  He’s right. I can’t remember the last time I actually fought for something important to me. For someone. And here I am, in the midst of letting a man go, a man so different—so everything—and I realize Denise is right. I would be incredibly stupid to throw that away.

  I guess it’s time to prove Tucker wrong.

  He and I are done.

  But I will fight for Andrew. I will fight for the man who likes me. I will fight for the man who looks deeply into my eyes and sees my soul. For him, I will fight.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ANDREW

  Have you ever met someone who thinks they’re so funny that you can’t do anything but laugh at how funny they really aren’t?

  I’m there right now
.

  Michelle. Fuck, if this woman called in sick one day, I would deny her all the chicken noodle soup so she could miss another day. Dick move, I know, but fucking hell she’s annoying. I wish there was a mute button that would make her shut up, or I wish I was an asshole and could tell her to get a life, but I’m not that guy.

  Nope, I’m the guy who will fake laugh to spare her feelings. My wood-loving mother taught me to respect others, even if they’re ridiculous.

  “And then my bra popped open and everyone saw my nipples.” Cue obnoxious laugh by her, followed by another one from me. I wasn’t even paying attention, but “everyone saw my nipples” is her punch line ninety-five percent of the time.

  This woman and her nipples. She talks about them non-stop. I kind of want to see them just to confirm they are as janky as I picture them, all bubbly and crooked.

  “Can you believe it?”

  “I really can’t.” I give her another fake smile and then turn toward the chocolate ice cream. “Hey, I have to finish scraping this carton, or else I’m never going to get out of here.”

  “Oh, such a hard worker.” She rubs her breast against my arm and then walks away, giving me a wink.

  Did she just mark me like a cat? You know how cats rub their scent glands along your leg, marking you as one of theirs? Is that what she just did? Rubbed her nipple glands on my arm, fending off any and all other female interest? I sure as hell hope not.

  But it’s not like it would matter. Any wanted female interest in this restaurant is gone. Sadie hasn’t said a word to me since I walked out of her apartment. I don’t even catch her looking at me like she used to. And when I have to make her sundaes, she doesn’t say a word; she just takes them and leaves. Talk about a cold fucking shoulder. When I first met her, I thought she was cold to everyone, but after a few weeks of observation—and interaction—I found out that wasn’t the truth. She’s only cold to people she doesn’t want anything to do with. And now that includes me. I fucking hate that I am back at square one, just like my first day on the job.

  Not that I would want her to talk to me. I mean, yeah, would it be awesome if she actually wanted to be with me? Sure. But that’s not going to happen. Something is holding her back, and I’m not sure she’ll ever get over that. And I would rather not hang around, trying to get her to open up only for her to break my fucking heart later on down the road.

  Because that’s what she would do—break my heart, kind of like she tore at it a few days ago, without any regard to how it would make me feel.

  Fuck.

  Concentrating on my last task for the night, I quickly scrape down the chocolate ice cream, clean the spades and scoops, wipe down the counters, and then check with the waitstaff to see if they need any help before I leave.

  When Denise dismisses me, I go to the bathroom where I change into my spare set of clothes I keep in my locker, handy since I spilled milk all over my clothes today. I stuff my smelly work uniform in a Friendly’s bag because driving home smelling like milk doesn’t appeal to me.

  With a quick wave to everyone, I step out into the cool summer night air, enjoying the sounds of crickets chirping around me. On my way to my car, I check my phone and see three text messages from Katja. I chuckle, wondering what the hell she has to say.

  Katja: You have ton of underwear. Why so much?

  I press my lips together; good to know they’re going through my things while I’m at work. Time to invest in a lock for my door.

  Katja: We need computer password. We want to watch porn.

  Once again, another reason I need a lock. With my luck, they would click on a porn site containing a virus that would infect my computer and ruin everything I ever created. I commend myself for heavily password protecting my computer.

  Katja: We ate the hot dogs. Pick up two more packs at store.

  Well, that’s not going to happen, but it’s cute they think it would. I’m going to have to do some serious roommate training when it comes to these ladies.

  And the joke’s on them, I didn’t even like those hot dogs.

  I push my phone in my jeans pocket and pull my keys out just as I see movement by my truck. My heart leaps into my throat when I think it’s someone ready to pounce on me, ball-gag me, and take me to their lair. But when I see the slender figure of Sadie in a yellow dress step forward, my heart drops and starts pounding rapidly.

  Fuck.

  Under the moonlight, her skin is radiant, her hair looks so incredibly soft, and those eyes, they bore holes straight through my soul.

  When I walk up to her, I remain silent. She needs to make the first move; she needs to be the one who speaks first.

  After a few awkward pauses, she finally says, “Hey.”

  Not quite what I was hoping for, but I’ll go with it.

  “Hey.”

  Mr. Talkative has clammed up. She’s on her own with this one.

  “Uh, can I talk to you for a second?”

  “Sure.” I toss my bag of clothes in the cab of my truck and then drop the tailgate. I hop up and pat the seat next to me. She lifts herself up and takes a seat, putting a decent amount of space between us.

  Even though she’s trying to hide it, I can see the shake in her hands and the uncertainty in her eyes. For the first time since I met her, the confidence that first caught my attention isn’t there. Instead, she almost seems weak, and that makes my heart lurch in my chest. She’s always been so strong. Did I do this to her?

  She fiddles with her hands on her lap and finally says, “I miss you, Andrew.”

  Well, fuck if I don’t want to jump up and down, waving my cock around in excitement while shooting poppers into the air just for the hell of it, but I hold still. Excessive celebration could put me in the hot bed once again.

  I keep quiet and let her continue.

  “I have issues with trusting people, pretty sure you’ve gathered that. And I don’t let a lot of people into my little world because of how fucked up it is. And I’m not just talking about basic daddy issues, or in my case, mommy issues. There are things about my past that make me so damn ashamed. Things that have destroyed, shamed, and humiliated my family to the point that we’ve been living with a black mark on our last name for years. It’s not easy for me to talk about, and it’s one of the biggest reasons why I avoid making new friends. I don’t want to keep reliving my past as I explain it to people, so I tend to stick around people who already know me.”

  “I can understand that,” I reply, my voice sounding more hoarse than before.

  “Thank you.” She takes a deep breath and continues. “And then you came along and threw my easygoing denial for a loop. You dug your way into my life and left a mark. You never even gave me a chance to deny you once you got in deep, and you made it impossible to ignore you. It was too difficult because I wanted you.” As she looks up at me, those soulful eyes split me in half. “I still want you, but not just the superficial, casual relationship you think I want. You, Andrew. I want all of you and I want you to have all of me.”

  This is all I wanted to fucking hear her say.

  “Really? All of you, Sadie?”

  She nods. “All of me. But it’s going to take time. I can’t just spill my guts at the drop of a hat. There are some very heavy things that have happened in my life that I don’t feel comfortable talking about, so you’re going to have to bear with me.”

  I grip her cheek, her warm skin pressing against my palm, and say, “Baby, all I ask is that you talk to me. I just want to know you, the good, the bad, and the sexy.” I wink at her, making that beautiful smile appear.

  “I’m sorry, Andrew. I’m sorry I didn’t come to you earlier. I’m sorry I accused you of something so far out of your character, and I’m sorry I’ve made this thing between us more difficult than it needs to be.”

  “This thing between us?” I ask with a raise of my eyebrow. “Baby, if we’re going to continue with this ‘thing,’” I use air quotes, “then we’re going to be labeli
ng it.”

  “What do you mean?” she asks, a scrunch to her nose.

  “I mean, if you’re going to be with me, you’re going to be my girlfriend. No more of this ‘thing.’ We are dating.”

  Chuckling, she says, “I think I can handle that.”

  “Can you?” I wrap my arm around her waist and lift her up so she straddles my lap. “I’m quite the demanding boyfriend. I need attention at all times and presents, lots and lots of presents.”

  “Sounds a bit dramatic. But let me ask you this, when you say presents, do you mean sex?”

  Her hands link behind my neck as she gets comfortable on top of me. “Sex and presents. Don’t try to pass off that sweet pussy as a present. Since you’re my girlfriend now, they don’t go hand in hand.”

  “Okay, then what qualifies as a present?”

  I rub my chin, feeling the scruff against my fingers. “Depends on my mood, but you can never fail with a good sugar-free vanilla sundae.” I cheese it for her, which garners me an eye-roll.

  “You are no longer allowed to have that ice cream. Eat the real stuff like a normal person.” And here she is. Miss Sassy Pants is back.

  “It’s an addiction I can’t seem to kick. It’s okay to be my enabler, I won’t hold it against you.”

  “Never.” Lowering her forehead, she presses hers against mine and looks down between us. Her mood transfers from joking to serious. “I really am sorry, Andrew. I never wanted to make you feel less than you are, because you’re so damn good for me. Far too good for me.”

  Far too good for her? What the hell? She thinks I’m too good for her? How on earth . . . Oh, my beautiful girl. She has no clue. It took strength and fortitude to apologize to me. I hadn’t seen that in her, but I’m fucking glad she found it. Too damn good for me, my ass.

  “Never. We equal each other out.” I grip her tightly. “Please ask rather than presume, and just talk to me, that’s all I want. When you doubt, or fear, or you’re scared I might think differently of you—which won’t happen—please just fucking talk to me rather than run away. Can you promise me that?”