Page 20 of Beautiful Mess

“Hey! No, I’m meeting Conway here for a meeting. I was running late, per usual.” I breathe out a laugh. “So, I’m sure he’s already here.”

The hostess winces as she drops her gaze to the notepad in front of her for a moment before looking back up at me. “Conwaywashere,” she says. “But he left about ten minutes ago.”

What?“He did?”

“Yeah, I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault, babe.” I smile at her as my heart rate picks up speed and my jaw tics. “Thank you for letting me know. Have a good one!”

“You too,” she calls after me as I blow through the door, phone already to my ear, calling this jackass.

It rings and rings and rings, eventually connecting to his voicemail, but fuck that. I’m calling back. If he’s going to blow off our meeting like this, he’s sure as hell going to answer the damn phone. Unlocking my car, I climb in, turning on the ignition just as the line connects.

Before I have a chance to say anything, his deep, gravelly voice fills the speaker. “I’m busy. What?”

“You’rebusy?” My hand wraps around the steering wheel, gripping it tight enough that my knuckles blanch. “We were supposed to meet, Conway. So, tell me why I get here, and I’m told you left? And after only ten minutes! We have to get this plan to the principal. What the hell?”

Conway heaves a sigh, the sound grating my nerves. “Yeah, you’re right. We had plans to meet at one.” His tone is so condescending, I want to scream. “Look at a clock right now. What time is it?”

“Oh, go to hell,” I scoff.

“What. Time. Is. It. Grace?” he repeats, slower this time.

“My god,” I grumble, glancing at the time on my dash. “It’s one twenty-eight, you asshole!”

“Good. So, why are you calling to bitch at me when you’re the one who was lateagain?”

“Sorry that I was late, but it really wasn’t my fault. One of the ovens at work broke and the?—”

“None of that is my problem,” he cuts me off. “There are plenty of adults who can manage their time better and be where they say they’re going to be on time.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, Conway.”

“Then don’t behave like one,” he tosses back flippantly. “My ten-year-old has better time management skills than you do.”

Is he for real? Who talks to somebody like this?

I bite my tongue so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t bleed. Grinding my molars, I breathe out a harsh breath through my nose. “We need to get this stuff finalized today, Conway,” I say as calmly as I can manage. “It’s due to the principal by end of week, and I’m too busy the rest of the week.”

“Understood. If you want to meet today, you can come to me.”

“What?” I hiss. “Where?”

“I’ll send you the address.”

“You want me to come to a job site?”

“Yes, I do, Grace.” The finality with which he says my name sends me back to that night in his truck when I kissed him. There’s just as much authority in the deep, gruff voice now as there was then. It’s equal parts annoying and hot.Make it make sense, universe.“You can’t seem to respect my time, yet you say you can’t meet any other day this week. Do you want to get this shit done or not?”

It takes every ounce of self-control I have to not tell him to fuck off. “Fine,” I grit out. “Send me the address.”

Once I have it entered into my car’s GPS, I back out of my parking spot and begin the fifteen-minute commute.

I don’t know what it is about Conway that brings out this stubborn, insufferable side of me. I hate it and wish I could figure out a way to make it stop. It’s not who I am at all, yet whenever I’m in his vicinity, I feel this gnawing need to, I don’t know…prove myself or something? What I’m proving, though, I haven’t a clue. It’s like some part of my brain chemistry was altered that night he rejected me. And I don’t even think it’s necessarily because of Conway or that he didn’t kiss me back. I think it was everything that happened that week that led to that moment, and since that was my breaking point, it’s the moment I latched onto the most. Hence my knee-jerk reaction to be a bitch to him every time I see him.

Georgia says it’s because I haveabandonment issues.First, the guy I lost my virginity to cheated on me. Betrayed me deeply and shattered all the plans I thought we had. Then when I finally meet someone and do get married, we end up getting a divorce because he’s actually into guys. Another person I truly thought I would grow old with.

I don’t agree with her, though. It’s not abandonment issues, it’s this soul-deep ache that never seems to go away over the fact that I’mneversomebody’s final pick. Never somebody’s moon and stars and universe. Instead, I’m everybody’sjust for now.Growing up, I dreamed of being the princess who fell in love and lived happily ever after. I dreamed of having the loving, doting husband, the kids, the house, the whole damn life. And while I have the kids and the house, and I’m so absolutely blessed for both, I don’t know why it’s so damn hard for me to find the last piece. I don’t know what’s so wrong with me that I can never be the one who gets picked, who a man couldn’t even fathom living without.

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