Playing Pretend, page 17
I was the one who went along with his antics. I participated, knowing the risks. It wasn’t anger that fueled me—it was the pain of turning back into that young girl who hung off his every word, unable to speak or even think without the action being claimed by him while knowing he didn’t feel the same way.
Now six days of regret-filled suffering have passed without a word between us.
There have been no calls. He hasn’t texted.
Our friendship has dissolved into radio silence, and I don’t want to risk attempting to fix it when there’s a possibility I’ll only make things worse.
All I had to do was freshen up in the bathroom, then return to the dance floor. I could’ve removed the device. I should’ve told him I didn’t want to partake in the game anymore. I could’ve formed a million different strategies other than creating a huge deal out of something he only wanted to be fun.
Instead, I made it into a thing.
A big, messy, tangled thing that haunts my every waking moment.
Rome will be upstairs on the balcony right now, drinking with my brother like he does every other Friday night, and I can’t bring myself to go up there.
I know I should.
I have to wade through the discomfort and face this mess head-on. I could act as if my outburst was an irrational hormonal meltdown. That it meant nothing. That I stopped the train before the wreck could happen even though my insides are mangled carnage.
I merely overreacted in the heat of the moment.
But I can’t bring myself to lie. Not yet. Not to Rome’s face.
I need to build those emotional walls higher first.
My cell vibrates on the coffee table, and I lean forward on the sofa to scoop it up.
Rett: Are you joining me tonight? I need a drink and I refuse to do it alone.
Alone? Rome stayed away because of me?
My heart sinks. After years of the same routine, I’d wondered if he’d consider tonight as an opportunity to reconcile.
I guess not.
I push to my feet and walk across the living room to the glass doors leading outside, subtly parting the curtains an inch. The upstairs balcony is empty. No lights. No voices. No sign of the comradery that has been a staple in our lives.
Piper: Where’s Rome?
Rett: Not coming.
This is what I didn’t want to happen. Not only were Rome and I torn apart by my inability to resist temptation, but now Rett is an innocent part of the wreckage.
Piper: Why?
Rett: You tell me.
A knock sounds at my door, the harsh sound increasing my pulse.
It has to be Rome. Apart from Rett, nobody else comes here. I don’t tend to broadcast how I’m still living at my brother’s house, and I never invite guests around.
The knock sounds again. Harder.
Shit.
I’m not ready to see him. I need to plan my apology. To make viable excuses that don’t make it obvious I’m in love with him.
I suck in a breath and walk to the entry, my throat tightening when I open the door only to find Rett standing before me in his business suit.
“You look like shit.” He frowns.
“It’s lovely to see you, too,” I grate. “Why were you messaging me from my doorstep?”
“Because I was waiting for you to tell me you were sick or already in your pajamas. I wanted to catch you in a lie.”
“You’re an idiot.” I step back, giving him room to enter. “What do you want?”
“A position on the Forbes list and a VP of Marketing who’d actually do their fucking job.”
“From me, Rett.” I slam the door and follow him into my tiny living room. “Why are you here?”
He turns on the heel of his polished loafers to face me. “Tell me what happened last weekend.”
I stiffen. “I already did. I called you twice while I was there, remember?”
“You said he kissed you. That Rome was pushing boundaries. But whatever went down was more than that if you two aren’t talking.”
I swallow, biding my time, trying to read his expression to see if he’s actually clueless or if all he wants is to get me to talk. “I’m sure Rome already told you.”
“He hasn’t said shit.”
“Liar. He doesn’t know how to keep quiet. Not with you.” Especially not when it comes to explicit encounters. I’m sure my brother has the inside scoop on every sordid tidbit of our time away. “Rome wouldn’t be able to walk past you once without spilling the details, let alone for five days spent in the same office.”
“Then I guess it makes sense that he hasn’t been at work since last week. He made up some excuse about working from home because a water pipe burst and needed emergency repairs.” He shoots me an incredulous look. “Do you know how many plumbers we work with who could gut an entire house and have new pipes laid in less time than it’s taken to fix his so-called one-pipe emergency?”
“Maybe he’s sick and didn’t want to admit he’s not indestructible.”
He strides to my two-seater sofa and slumps onto the far cushion. “Just tell me what happened and save us both the back and forth. I think I’ve been patient enough while my imagination has run rings around what you two got up to.”
I don’t care about his imagination. Not when the reality is worse.
He kicks his feet onto my coffee table. “Did he hurt you?”
I don’t bother answering. We both know Rome wouldn’t do anything close to what Rett is implying. Not physical pain, anyway. The way he hurt me was with his disregard for our friendship. The way he wanted explicit fun at the expense of our platonic bond.
But I’m the one at fault for playing along.
“Did he do something unforgivably unprofessional? Did he hook up with one of your colleagues? Did he sleep with your boss’s wife?” He volleys questions at me. “Did he encourage your entire office to take an excursion to a sex club…because he’s done that before. I think he felt sorry for Jameson’s dry streak.”
“No.” I cringe. “Leave it alone, okay? It will sort itself out eventually.”
“Eventually isn’t good enough. If the two people I value most are fighting because of a disastrous hookup, I want to know.”
“So he did tell you,” I accuse. Goddamn liar.
“No.” He slides his feet off the table. “You just did.”
I glare.
“Look, Pip, I don’t know the details, and I don’t necessarily need to. But you both have to rectify whatever the hell went down asap.” He stands. “Preferably before he goes on his date with Stacey.”
My lips part without my consent, shock slicing through me.
“Exactly.” He gives a solemn nod through my silence. “That’s how toxic this has become. He’s punishing himself again. Wouldn’t it be better to talk it out before he shoves his dick back into that bear trap?”
The knife twists in my chest, stirring a whirlpool of pain and jealousy.
“I’m sure he’s sorry for whatever he did.” Rett walks for the entry. “Talk to him.” He pulls open the front door and steps onto the stoop. “Figure it out before he gets the clap from that bitch, or I miss another Friday night session. You two are fucking up my weekends.”
“Thanks for the selfless support,” I drawl.
“You’re welcome. I’ll leave your door open so you can get straight in your car.” He strides out of view, doing exactly as promised, the cool night breeze filtering into my apartment.
I stare at the open door, nausea building in my gut.
I don’t want to go. I prefer it here. Alone. Not having to face my mistakes or the man I’m stupidly in love with. But I miss my best friend. I hate being separated from him.
Goddamnit. I stalk for my entry, grab my keys off the hook on the wall, and slam the door behind me. “I despise you, Rett.”
His faint chuckle carries from somewhere inside his house.
I climb in my car, ignoring the anxiety riddling my veins, and drive the ten minutes to Rome’s house… Then circle the block… Then do it again.
I think I complete five laps before I can bring myself to park at his curb and make my way to his front step, my pulse beating painfully when I press the bell.
I watch through the glass paneling beside the door as Rome strides into his foyer in black trousers and a matching long-sleeve button down, his expression deadpan at the sight of me.
There’s no excitement. No playful arrogance. No fun.
He opens the door, his brow furrowed in concern. “What’s wrong?”
Not hello. Not are we drinking tonight. He asks what’s wrong, as if it’s not a monumental disaster that he doesn’t want to continue our Friday night routine.
I lower my gaze, my attention catching on the red-bottomed pumps haphazardly left on the tile inside the foyer, the shiny black heels sparkling with the reflection of his lights.
She’s already here. I’m too late.
My heart screams in protest.
“Piper? Is everything okay?”
He invited her into his home.
He never does that. Never brings women to his sanctuary.
“No, everything is not okay. We haven’t spoken in a week, and you didn’t turn up for drinks tonight.” I scrunch my nose to fight the burn. “I hate this. Can we please forget what happened and move on? I don’t want to lose you.”
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t move.
I drag my gaze from the woman’s shoes which are tying my stomach in knots to meet his solemn eyes.
I’d hoped he’d jump at the chance to put this behind us. That he’d be thankful I made the first move toward reconciliation. All I see is sorrow in the gentle press of his lips. Regret in the dark depths of his stare.
“Please?” I swallow over the clog in my throat. “Can’t we forget the entire weekend ever happened and go back to the way things were?”
His chin hitches. The slightest incline of conflicted acknowledgement. Then finally he nods, slow and subdued. “If that’s what you want.”
What I want is to have stopped this the night his presence at the resort was even suggested.
I want to be free from the pain. The heated memories wiped from my mind. I don’t want to be tormented by our chemistry. I need my walls rebuilt and my heart kept safe.
“I can’t see another way around this that doesn’t destroy our friendship,” I admit. “And being away from you is killing me.”
“It’s killing me, too.”
My heart gives another agonizing squeeze.
“Well, I guess it’s settled then.” I attempt a smile. “We’ll forget the resort existed. We won’t speak about it again.”
We’ll forget the pleasure.
The wicked words.
The blistering sparks.
You’re my good little girl, Pip.
“Okay.” He keeps his thoughts locked tight, but I know he has them. He’s denying me his opinion. Treating me like an acquaintance.
The damage to our relationship has already been done, and I don’t know what to do about it.
“Okay.” I backtrack, each step punishing when I know he’s going to turn to another woman as soon as I leave. “I’ll get out of your hair, then, and let you enjoy your date.”
“Date?” He frowns.
“It’s all right.” I keep retreating, my eyes burning. “I saw the heels, and Rett already told me.”
“What did he tell you?” He follows me outside.
“That you had plans with Stacey.”
“That’s why you’re here?”
“I’m here to fix us.” I don’t stop backtracking, needing to keep the distance because every inch of me is being torn apart by jealousy. “I wanted you to know you don’t have to punish yourself over what happened. You made suggestions to make things fun, and I participated. If I’d only discussed my concerns instead of letting things go too far—”
“I deserve to be punished, Piper. But those aren’t Stacey’s shoes. They’re Olivia’s”
His cousin? I pause in the middle of his driveway. “Stacey’s not here?”
“No, and she never will be. Your brother is meddling.”
Relief floods me, followed closely by anger.
I’m going to kill Rett.
“Yeah, my thoughts exactly.” Rome gives a half-hearted grin, reading my mind perfectly. “I haven’t seen him all week, let alone spoken to him about Stacey. I promise I’m not going there again, especially since you’ve made it clear you don’t like her. You can trust me on that, even though you might not want to trust me on much else.”
I wince, taking another backward step toward my car. “I trust you.”
“No, you don’t, but that’s okay. I get it.”
I pause, confused by the man who stands before me. He’s not Rome Cavanaugh, the overtly confident, unshakable property tycoon. He’s someone else. Someone cautious and exposed. Fragile and pained. “I do trust you. What makes you think I don’t?”
“Because you thought my actions at the resort were heartless and sterile. That wasn’t the case. They were calculated and entirely intentional.”
“I know.” I wince, stopping near the start of his drive. “You had a plan to protect me from Julian.”
“It was more than that.” He pauses, too, leaving a foot of space between us.
He’s close enough to touch. To hold. But after the proximity we recently shared, the distance seems cavernous.
“You wanted to prove I wasn’t cold,” I add.
“You’ve never been cold. Not once in your entire life. All you’ve ever needed is the right guy to prove that.” He raises his chin, as if preparing to say something harsh. “My mistake was thinking that guy was me.”
I blink.
Confused.
Stricken.
“I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, Piper.” He holds me under the cage of those intense eyes. “I can’t think of a time when I haven’t.”
“I’ve always loved you, too. That’s part of being best friends.”
He smiles, the curve of lips etched in sadness. “The way I felt, and will continue to feel, is far more than friendship, and I think you know that.”
I stop breathing.
I didn’t know.
I couldn’t have known.
“At the resort, you used my lack of dating experience against me,” he continues. “And you’re right—I haven’t had a successful relationship. But that’s only because I’ve never wanted one unless it was with you.”
I’m tripping.
I must have had a car accident on the way here. In reality, I’m lying in a ditch somewhere. Unconscious. Barely clinging to life. I need to wake up and get medical assistance.
“It’s okay.” His smile fades. “You don’t have to respond. I know I’m a prick for laying this at your feet when all you want to do is forget.”
I’m probably hemorrhaging. Bleeding out.
I certainly feel lightheaded.
“On second thought.” His eyes plead with me. “I need you to say something. Your silence is fucking killing me. I can’t tell if you’re in good shock or bad.”
“I don’t know either.” My voice is breathy. Barely audible.
I’m scared. Terrified because of all the reasons I convinced myself we could never be together yet panic-stricken at the thought of denying a lifelong fantasy.
“Tell me I’m not alone in this.” He steps closer, bringing us foot to foot. “Tell me you love me as more than a friend.”
I remain silent, unsure what to do, his expression falling with the passing seconds. This proud, unshakable man is emotionally crumbling before me.
“I do love you,” I admit, the words leaving me in aching syllables.
“In a way other than friendship?”
“In every way imaginable…”
His eyes widen with misplaced hope.
“But just because I feel the same doesn’t mean it isn’t problematic,” I add. “There are too many risks. Why do you think I was scared at the resort?”
“Fuck the problems.” He hooks his fingers around the waistband of my jeans and tugs me into him. “We’ll make it work.”
I place a hand to his chest and push back, reclaiming space. “You don’t know that. We could ruin everything. And we’d be dragging Rett along for the ride.”
“Rett’s a big boy. He’s not going to get in the middle of our problems.”
“But that’s the thing. I don’t want problems. I don’t want anything to ruin what we have. I’m reliant on you, Rome. I hate that I am, but I can’t do anything about it. I need you in my life. That’s why I gave up on the potential of having more a long time ago.”
He broadens his shoulders. I know that stance. I know what it means, too. He’s preparing to fight. Reclaiming all the undeniable confidence that forever makes me melt.
“So you have feelings for me,” he muses, “that you’re just going to let go to waste?”
“I have feelings that I’ve locked tight for years to ensure you’ll always be my best friend.”
He slides his hands into his pockets, casual, calm. “And what if that’s not enough for me anymore?”
“Rome, please. Don’t do this.” I know he’d never willingly give up our friendship. But I’m also aware he’d risk it to take things further. The resort was proof of that.
“You love me,” he states simply.
“I love our stable friendship more.”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive. We can have both.”
“You have absolutely no evidence to back up that statement. If this was business, you’d never go ahead with a project this risky.”
“So we’re back to business-type negotiations now?” He raises a mocking brow.
“No. I’m just—”
“It’s okay.” He raises his hands in surrender. “If you’re willing to ignore this thing between us, then I’m not going to hound you. But I will ask that we settle all outstanding debts.”
I frown.
“You owe me a kiss,” he clarifies.
My stomach somersaults with a mass of wild butterflies.
“I’ll even be lenient and make you a deal.” His lips quirk in the subtlest of cocky grins. “We have the kiss here, now, and on the lips instead of between your thighs like I’d originally planned, and if you can tell me it doesn’t feel like you’re giving up fate, then I’ll agree to your terms of forgetting all those tempting encounters at the resort.”
