Page 81 of Rematch
Of being hurt again.
Rick’s failure to show up at the church had struck hard and deep, leaving behind one hell of a scar. Losing Preston would feel a million times worse.
Her phone chirped with an incoming text, and she wiped her hands on her apron as she walked over to where she’d left it on the counter. She tried to ignore the fact she was hoping it was a text from Preston, who’d already sent a couple photos of him and Lennon strolling through a toy store. She’d texted back asking if a toy store had really been on his lists of errands. He’d replied with a noncommittal shrug emoji that made her laugh because, knowing him, it probably had been.
Sadly, this text was from Rick. God, it was just like Beetlejuice. She thought his name and he appeared.
Apparently, Rick must have viewed her sleepover with Preston on Christmas night as her waving some sort of red flag in his face, because he’d been quite tenaciousness ever since.
Like an idiot, she thought Rick had given up after she told him she wasn’t interested in anything beyond friendship, because he’d gone radio silent. She should have known better.
He’d started reaching out after Christmas, texting every couple of days just to see how she was doing. She’d ignored them all.
Haven’t seen you in way too long. Wanna binge Below Deck tonight?
She sighed. Below Deck had been their show when they were engaged, the two of them never missing an episode. Clearly ignoring him wasn’t doing the trick.
Can’t. Busy.
She didn’t add more because what she did was none of his business, and she couldn’t help but wonder where the hell all this attentiveness had been when they were engaged. Shit, she would have been grateful for just a third of the dedication he was currently showing her back then. Now, it was just annoying as shit.
Seeing him?
Apparently, Rick assumed her silence was Preston’s fault, rather than the result of him crossing the line she’d drawn in the sand regarding their “just friends” status.
She rolled her eyes at Rick’s question and the petty way he refused to refer to Preston by name, simply saying him, as if that pronoun was a personal affront.
Chelsea leaned against the counter, considering her reply. All her energy and focus the past month had been on Preston and Lennon, watching the father and son build what was truly a beautiful bond. She’d been so wrapped up in that, she’d shoved Rick out of her mind, hoping he’d simply fade into the distance once and for all.
Clearly, it was time to come clean, to tell Rick she didn’t share his feelings and officially rescind the friendship offer. Offering even that much had blurred the lines for him, giving him hope that simply wasn’t there. Doing it over text felt shitty, but she refused to let him keep hanging on.
We need to talk.
She groaned when Rick’s response came immediately.
I’m in the neighborhood. I’ll come over now.
Fuck.
While she knew this conversation was past due, she’d hoped to handle it all over the phone.
She put her cell back down and finished the frosting. Chelsea did her best thinking while baking. With the cupcakes cool, she’d just started icing them when she heard the bell over the front door tinkle and noise from the street filter in.
“Chels?” Rick called out.
“In the kitchen,” she replied.
He walked in, all charming smiles. Unlike Preston, who sported a sexy five-o’clock shadow half the time, Rick was court ready—clean-shaven, hair combed neatly, expensive suit pressed.
“Something smells good.”
“Red velvet cupcakes.”
His eyes widened. “My favorite.”
She knew for a fact his favorite cupcake was chocolate chip, but clearly he was trying to butter her up.
Chelsea handed him a frosted one, schooling her annoyance when he nodded his thanks, then put it down on the counter without taking a bite. Rick wouldn’t dare run the risk of leaving here with food in his pearly white teeth.
