Page 74 of Contingently Yours
“Wow!” I don’t know why she’s giggling. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” I don’t know what I’m thanking her for. A few days ago, I was thankful. Today, I just feel like I got hit in the balls with a listing sign.
“So…why the long face then? You don’t have to put on an act to get rid of me, you know. I get it.”
“I’m not.” I sigh, sitting up. Great. Now I have guilt to add to my kicked balls. “I know you’re cool.” Fingering the edge of my pillow, I try to find some vague explanation that won’t invoke too many questions as I stare at the moisture forming on the outside of the ice cream container. “We had a disagreement, is all. Thanks…for the Rocky Road, by the way.”
I realize it’s gone quiet again and find her smiling thoughtfully at me. “She’s good for you,” she says like it’s another discovery, but the words sting.
I watch her move to the back of the couch and don her jacket, a sign that she’s leaving. Thank goodness for small mercies. I don’t feel like wallowing with company around. I rise out of respect for our friendship and help her.
Turning, she gives me a pitying look, but with a hint of an amused smile, like my misery is somehow adorable. “Andrew, Idon’t know what happened, but if you want her badly enough, just do what you do best instead of burrowing into your couch.”
If she has any kind of answer that will fix this, I’m all ears.
“And what’s that?”
She lets out an amused puff of breath, like it should be obvious. “Be a complete pain in the ass until you get what you want. Move hell or high water.”
I’m not even offended. Just more depressed. That was the old me. The me I was before I became Lucas’ fake boyfriend for a few weeks. I used to get what I wanted, but now the one thing I really want doesn’t want me back.
“What if…he doesn’t like when I’m a pain in the ass.”
She gapes at me, and I can’t understand why, until I realize what I said.He…as in ahe, not ashe. Yeah, that probably caught her off guard, considering how much she knows I like women.
Her brows quirk, however, and her amused smile returns. “He must have liked something about you to get his hooks in you this deep.” Her hand cups my cheek, and this time I do see genuine empathy in her face as she adds gently, “Figure out what that is and use it.”
How does she know so much about relationships when she’s spent the better part of a year just knocking boots with me in her free time? Tugging on the lapel of her jacket, I offer her a half-hearted smile.
“Did you find Mr. Right in Brussells?”
Shrugging, she chuckles. “No. A Mr. Maybe and one Mr. Not A Chance In Hell.”
Ew. Ouch. I grimace on her behalf. “Well, happy hunting. And thanks again for the ice cream and…the advice.”
Fat lot of good it will do me, but again, I’m not in the mood to be the old asshole me. Canting her head, she studies me again. What is up with that?
“You know…if it doesn’t work out withyourMr. Right…you should give me a call about that offer you made me before I left.”
Oh, God. Does she think she sees something in pitiful-depressed me that’s a game changer?
“Um, why don’t you leave before I have to block your number?” I joke.
Laughing, she moves to the door. “Relax. I’m pretty sure you’re off the market, and I won’t lose any sleep over it. I promise. Goodbye.”
Strange woman. One of a kind for sure. I hope she finds her Mr. Right sooner rather than later.
Carting my melting ice cream to the kitchen, I mull over her advice. Lucas did like things about me. I know he did. He said so himself. Aside from my cock, kisses, and my looks, he also liked not having to be responsible all the time, the way he’s having to be right now. Him and this freaking wedding. It’s ruining him. Who in their right mind thinks they can find a decent band in forty-eight hours? The only band I know is…
The ice cream falls from my hands and splatters all over the floor. Leaping over it, I barrel into the living room to fetch my phone and shut Elvis up.
“Drew! How’s it going?” Mason answers on the first ring, the way normal, not pissed-off-at-me people do.
“Mason! Good. Great.” What the fuck am I saying? “Actually, no… No, it’s not. I’ve got a problem. Are you back in the States yet?”
“Yeah. Why?”
I proceed to tell him about Lucas’ band cancellation debacle and that the clock is ticking. I realize, as I ask him if there’s any chance he could make an appearance, that it’s a ballsy request. Platinum-record-selling bands don’t exactly double as wedding singers. This very well might cost me a big chunk of my commission, but I don’t care. It’s worth the ask.
