Page 28 of I Do With You

I flash a shit-eating grin at Roy, knowing Hope won’t see it but he will.Fuck yeah, I’m her friend. Nothing but a good old friend. No need to worry, buddy.

“If you think he’s a friend, you’re stupider than I thought,” he bites out, eyes never leaving mine.

Bad move.Realbad move.

“Excuseme?” Hope retorts, her voice sharp and her eyes full of ice. “I sure hope you’re not referring to me as stupid, Roy Laurier. Because that would be real dumb, considering we both know who got you through those college math classes.” By the look on her face, that person was one Miss Hope Barlowe.

While I want to punch him, Hope seems inclined to eviscerate him with words, proving his own idiocy with receipts. In my experience, bones heal, but scars from a verbal lashing tend to stick with you, resonating long after the words land. I hope he hears her talking shit about him in his head for the rest of his miserable life anytime he wonders where he went wrong.

“Hope, I’m not calling you stupid—but seriously, he’s got his hands all over you and nearly shoved his face in your crotch,” he whines. Roy isn’t helping himself by any means, because that tone is as grating as nails on a chalkboard.

Hope holds up a hand, stopping him. “This has nothing to do with Ben, so don’t be crude. It’s about us. No—” She shakes her head, sending wet droplets from her hair over her arms. A few drops hit me and Roy’s blue shirt, too, leaving dark circles on the fabric. “Actually, it’s about me. For once.”

“You’re the most important part of us. You know that, babe.” Roy’s changing tactics as he tries to charm his way into Hope’s crotch himself. He steps toward her, his hand taking hers again. She doesn’t pull away this time, and I have to force myself to stay back because every instinct inside me wants to rip her away from him, push her behind me, and fuck Roy’s pretty face up.

I might’ve only gotten tied up in Hope’s drama a few days ago, but I’m Boy Scout–sailor’s knotted up in it now, and willing to throw hands in her honor if need be because I feel protective of her. Not because she’s weak, but because she feels important.

“Am I?” Hope’s question is deeper than the two little words imply. She sighs heavily, her chest rising and falling as her shoulders climb up toward her ears. “Ben, can you give me a minute?” she asks.

“Yeah, Ben. You can go now,” Roy says with a victorious smirk as he throws his arm over Hope’s shoulders and pulls her to his side. He thinks he’s echoing Hope’s words. But he’s wrong—dead wrong. I can see it in her eyes. She’s about to break this fucker’s heart. She doesn’t want to, not really, but it’s the only way out, andoutis what she wants. What she needs.

“I’ll be right over there when you’re ready,” I tell Hope, my eyes locked on hers. I’m not going anywhere, not without her.

Stepping away is harder than it should be because Roy has every single one of my hackles up, but I do it. For Hope.

I choose my spot intentionally, ensuring I can watch both Hope’s and Roy’s expressions as this goes down. Like the universe is on my side, a tiny breeze blows through the air, bringing their words to my ears if I listen hard enough. Which I’m definitely doing, with zero remorse for invading their privacy.

“Glad we got rid of him so we can talk,” Roy tells Hope with an easy smile, clearly thinking I’m as deaf as the nearby trees. His teeth are commercial-white, his hair styled, and he’s wearing business casual khakis and a polo. I can admit that he’s an attractive guy. Based on looks alone, I can see what Hope might see in him. Though I’d expect him to be a little more disheveled and less golf-course ready if he was truly worried about his runaway bride.

Regardless, beauty is only skin deep. Whatever’s beneath his shiny surface is what matters, and I can already tell that what’s beneath Roy’s surface is bullshit.

“Roy, look—” Hope starts, but he interrupts her.

“I’m sorry. For whatever I did, I’m sorry,” he says earnestly. “I love you.”

For some women, that’d be enough. He apologized—sort of—and said those three magic words. A lot of times, that’s more than people think they deserve. I pray Hope demands more for herself, because she sure as fuck deserves it.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Hope tells him, not taking the bait. “It’s not something you did or didn’t do. It’s me. I’m the one who didn’t listen to myself. I had nightmares, but I ignored them. I’d get panicky and tell myself it was the stress of the wedding. I’d look at you and see our history together. But when I tried to imagine the future, I felt empty inside, and it shouldn’t be like that.”

“It’s stress, babe,” Roy tries, clearly not listening to the truth behind her words. “You should’ve told me the wedding was getting to you. We could’ve ditched it and gone down to the courthouse.”

He doesn’t get it. He heard the laundry list of Things to Fix and thinks that’ll make it all okay. But it’s the bigger picture he’s missing.

“Maybe it is stress, but it’s the stress of keeping myself in this narrow-laned, tightly controlled plan,” Hope says, still being patient with him. “And I know I’m the one that put myself there. It’s not your fault, and I admit that. But I need to break out of it while I still can. So I am.”

He scoffs, but Hope stays steady, not giving in even a tiny bit. Her spine is straight, her gaze forthright, and the set of her mouth is one that speaks the truth.

“Are you actually breaking up with me?” Roy asks as it finally soaks in. He seems incredulous, the disbelief written in the high arch of his brows. “After everything we’ve been through?”

She dips her chin, tears starting to fall silently. Just because she’s resolute in what she’s doing doesn’t mean it isn’t hard or emotionally damaging.

“You. Fucking. Bitch,” Roy bites out, his voice and face going from handsome, if slightly pleading, to twisted and ugly in three sharp words. “I’ve stood by you through so much shit, telling everyone that we were the real deal. Roy and Hope forever.” He spits out what should be sweet words like they’re bitter acid on his tongue. “And you’re standing here, throwing it all away because of some cold feet?”

“It’s not cold feet. We’ve taken every step together for so long as we’ve grown up. Right there, hand in hand. And I’m so thankful you were with me for all of that. You’ve helped me become the woman I am today in so many ways.” I can hear thebutcoming a mile away, and then Hope leans in to ask him, “But did you ever want to skip a step? Or go to the left, or right? Jump, sprint—something? Maybe do it by yourself?”

Roy looks at her like she’s speaking gibberish. “No,” he murmurs hollowly.

Hope looks at him, all the history they’ve shared in her tear-filled eyes as she begs him to listen, to hear her. And finally, he does.

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