At the time, I thought my parting words would give me a measure of comfort. At least I’d gotten the last word. And damn it, I’d been right. That should count for double the points, right?
But as I sit in Drip, mere hours after our post-coital showdown, I realize that, last word or not, I still feel like shit. And how am I a winner if the object of my affection patently rejects me? The fact is, nobody wins in this situation.
I swirl the straw in my hot cocoa again, effectively dissolving the whipped cream before taking a drink. And yes, I still drink hot cocoa. The real stuff, not those packets that require hot water. And no, that doesn’t make me twelve. It solidifies the fact that I am a connoisseur of delicious beverages.
I’m halfway through my drink when I allow myself to check my watch. 7:45. We agreed to meet at 8, and it’s no one’s fault but mine that I’ve been here for the better part of an hour already, which means I can’t even be pissed at Drew. And that pisses me off.
After walking out on Elaine and then waiting in my car like a creeper to make sure she made it out of the building safely, I texted Drew and gave him the go-ahead to proceed with the app.
Afterall, Drew’s got a point. If we wait until all conditions are perfect, we’ll miss our opportunity. The market is ready for an idea like ours. Plus, starting it up means leaving Chesapeake Shores, which means leaving Elaine, which is a good thing. And yet…
I hear the scrape of a chair on tile before I hear him speak. “So, I guess the rumors are true. You really are a lovesick bastard, sitting all alone in a coffee shop, looking like Cupid just yanked his arrow clean out of your chest.”
I lift my head to see Drew sitting across from me, black coffee in hand.
“What the hell are you talking about? And what rumors could you possibly hear? You’ve been fucking underground for six months. Who knows? Maybe you’re working for the Feds.”
“Ha!” Drew barks. “That’ll be the day. And I don’t divulge my sources, so you’ll have to sweat it out. ”
“No sweating necessary. That rumor is entirely false.”
“Bullshit.” He fakes a cough into his sleeve.
“Nope. I’m not lovesick. Jaded and pissy, sure. But lovesick? Hell no.”
“So you’re telling me this girl is fair game? What’s her name? Evelyn? Ellen? No...Elaine, right? Cause I’m back in town and…”
“Fuck you, asshole.” And why the hell can no one remember her name?! It’s not that hard.
Drew just laughs. “Sucks, huh?”
He’s right, so I nod. “Totally and completely.”
“Yea, it does. So, enough about women who suck our cocks and then suck our souls away. Let’s talk business. My guy in New York is ready to move on the app. We just need a few more backers. And an actual name.”
IT’S THE DAY BEFOREThanksgiving. The drive home to St. Michael’s doesn’t take as long as I feared it might, but that could have something to do with the fact that I dashed out of work at lunchtime and hopped on the freeway and headed north. And maybe my reason for leaving had more to do with missing a meeting Simon would surely be at than avoiding traffic, but still.
I’ve been at my parents for hours before I’m joined by anyone other than the housekeeper. And for her part, Mrs. Carlisle shooed me out of the kitchen and scolded me for stealing two oatmeal cookies. Ah, the joys of coming home.
My mother texted to say she’d be at a luncheon, and my dad is surely at the office. And really, I’m glad for the reprieve. I handle my family best in small doses. And by small, I mean shot glass-sized. I was only too happy to snuggle into the sweats I’d packed and curl up to watch Netflix in the family room, which is roughly half the size of my house and boasts theater-style seating.
Just like it had been in middle school, my movie marathon starts withBetter off Dead, followed byDrop Dead Gorgeous, and ends withDead Again. Because, who doesn’t love a theme? Midway through the second movie, I’m interrupted by my brother. Sadly, these days, Everett is more corporate asshole than pesky sibling. And I hardly see him anymore. And he’s never without Awful Victoria, but I guess that’s due to the fact that they’re married. I take a quick glance at the doorway, but there’s no Ice Queen in sight. And I don’t hear shrieking, so I’m guessing she’s napping in Ev’s old room. Or maybe she thought she’d give us all an early Christmas gift by skipping Thanksgiving this year…
Forget it. I’m not that lucky. And I’m not usually this uncharitable. Ugh. I’m stuck in bitch mode, and I need to get over it.
I’m vaulted out of my grumpfest by Ev’s booming voice. I’m almost literally thrown off the couch when he plops down next to me. My brother is a big guy. Tall and broad. He’s the corporate version of the Brawny paper towel guy. “What’re we watching, kiddo?” he asks as he props his feet on the coffee table, pulls my ponytail, steals my last pilfered cookie, and snags half my blanket. Apparently, the pesky brother side of his personality is winning today.
I roll my eyes in his direction. “If you’re sharing this blanket, you’re in charge of stealing more cookies.”
“Already did.” He smiles and puts the plate of cookies on the table in front of us. “And I didn’t even have to steal them. Mrs. Carlisle gave them to me—fresh out of the oven—because she likes me better.”
“She also drives a metallic gold PT Cruiser and wears velour tracksuits on her off hours. Her judgement is questionable at best.”
“You’re just jealous.”
“Yea, that’s it…”
“Is this the beauty pageant movie? Christ Almighty, E, you’ve seen this 72 times. Pick something else. I want to watch shit get blown up.”
