Page 75 of Contingently Yours
“Ah, that’s awful. I really wish I could help, but I’m sorry. We’ve got a big network interview tomorrow. It’s in our contract, so we can’t miss it.”
Fuck. What was I expecting? Freaking Veronica. Does anyone give good advice these days? Now, I’m embarrassed that I asked a former client, who just spent a giant chunk of change on three properties, for a favor of epic proportions. I lied to him and his husbands, and now I’m calling in a favor I don’t deserve. Ugh. No wonder Lucas doesn’t want me.
“No. I get it. I’m sorry to have even asked. I know when you said if we needed anything, you probably didn’t mean something equivalent to donating a kidney, but it’s just that Lucas is… He… Well, he’s a fucking perfectionist who only thinks about everyone but himself. He promised his little sisters that he’d find them a band for their wedding, and he’s the kind of guy who follows through when he makes a promise, even if it’s an unattainable one. I know he’s making himself sick over this, and it’s driving me mental. He’s just so…so…fucking frustrating, it…”
“Hey, Drew.” He laughs. Why the heck is he laughing? “It’s all right. I get it.”
Sighing, I loosen my grip on the phone and stop pacing. I forgot. He spent three weeks with Lucas. He probably picked up on his quirks, too. “You do?” I chuckle, rubbing my eyes.
“Yeah. You love him. We’d do anything for the people we love,” he says simply. “Look at me. You think I like wilderness explorations?” he cackles. “I got acute dehydration and ended up with an IV bag from going on an expedition just to impress Dario when we first got together. And Keenan? I took him horseback riding. I’m fuckin’ allergic to horses. I was so doped up on Benadryl, I could barely stay in the saddle. Love makes us daft and mental. I’m sorry, Drew. I’d be there in a jiffy if I could.”
“No. No, it’s okay. Uh…again, sorry I asked.”
“It’s all right. I told you. I get it. Best of luck. Okay?”
“Y-yeah. Thanks.”
Love?
The accusation tumbles around in my head as I stare at my phone after we hang up. I know it’s the lie I wanted him and his husbands to believe, but I understand the reason he’s so convinced now. Because it’s true.
Oh, God. I got it all wrong.
‘What are we doing?’
For some reason, the replay of Lucas asking me that question makes me realize it was vulnerability in his eyes when he asked. I was so worried about coming across as too sappy that I didn’t see it.
‘Getting along.’
Ugh. I cannot believe I said that. And then…
Fuck. I basically asked him for a booty call with my slew of messages and voicemails. I probably sounded like the incomparable slut he thinks I am.
I drop onto the couch, feeling heavy and weak. All that crap I said to him about how we just jerked off from playing boyfriends and that I’m not real boyfriend material.
Shit. I fucked up.
I never imagined I’d ever fall in love. Finding out that I did just makes this fuck-up hurt even more. It turns out ignorance really is bliss.
CHAPTER 29
Andrew
Picking at a platter of appetizers on the island counter in my parents’ kitchen, I contemplate what looks good, knowing I should eat something.Nothingis the consensus I come up with. Nothing looks good. Love has officially ruined food for me. Love sucks.
The urgent clip of heels comes from behind me. I can smell my mother’s flowery perfume before I see her. Dressed in white slacks and a soft yellow blouse, she looks like a woman who is confident that nothing will spill on her at a luncheon. Even food, apparently, bends to my mother’s whims.
She’s frowning at me. I can see it in her eyes. Her face doesn’t move much from all the Botox. Years of trying to look good for my father, although she’ll never admit it.
“What’s the matter with you?” she demands, picking up a spoon to stir a bowl of dip, her manicured nails are perfect as always, making the utensil look out of place in her hands.
“Are you going to come outside or stay in here and mope? It’s not going to kill you to spend an afternoon with your family.”
Family…
I can see from the window that Shaw and Terry are here, sitting at a table by themselves on the lawn. I’m sure Chad will make the rounds and chat with them, but he and I are usually the only ones in my immediate family who do.
Uncle Lou called me on my way over here to inform me that my commission will be deposited on Monday. “You did good, kid,” he said in that gruff tone of his that felt more like a hug than any I’ve ever gotten from my parents in recent years.
