Page 38 of This or That
Damn, her scrutiny makes me squirm!
“By the way, thank you for letting me crash at your place, borrow a T, and holding my hair when my stomach rebelled. I was so engrossed in my pity party that I didn’t say the words.”
“Anytime. You’re always welcome to stay here. What are friends for, right?” I wink. “I drank way more than my limit as well. Cocktails are traitorous! It’s a miracle I don’t have a headache.”
“Also, thanks for hugging me as I fell asleep. I desperately needed it.”
“Like I said, what are friends for? You’re the sister that I never had.” I frown at my own statement. Who needs a blood line when Anna is the perfect surrogate sister? A much better fit than friends with benefits... And just like that, she reads my mind.
“You’re my best friend, Troy. Who would have thought we would suck at the benefit part?”
“Well, I have plenty of benefits sucking someone else, thank you very much.” I stick my tongue out and we snicker.
With Anna in the shower, I clean up and do the dishes, thoughtful. I mull over Mike’s silence while texting with Claire, who’s tagging along with Drake tonight, courtesy of Matteo. “The more, the merrier,” he replied when Mike suggested it last week.
Before I know it, a dolled-up Anna appears in the living room, her baby blues edged with concern. “You okay, Troy? Your jaw is clenched so hard it’s painful to watch.” I grumble incoherent words. A brow spiked up, she’s next to me in no time. “Speak up!”
“Mike’s usually by his phone. He hasn’t messaged me yet. I don’t know… Something’s wrong.” I shake my head dismissively and pour myself another cup of coffee. “Anyway, I forgot to tell you that I’m DJing at tonight’s party. Wanna tag along?” A couple of texts later, it’s settled, and Matteo inquires whether Mike and I will wear matching costumes. I gulp my escalating worry and elude the question, then end the exchange.
Instead, I jut my chin in Anna’s direction, wordlessly offering her more coffee, and fill her mug. “Thanks for making coffee this morning, by the way.” We clink our mugs and chuckle. “I’m glad you found my stash. I don’t know if I was in any shape to make it myself!” I force out a laugh.
“I didn’t make coffee.” Her confused eyes narrow. “The pot was full when I woke up. I thought you set a timer...”
That’s when my body connects with reality. And freezes. When my brain connects the dots. And short-circuits. When my eyes connect with their surroundings. And widen.
A black leather glove is discarded by the front door. Mike’s. My heart skips a beat. Of all the mornings Mike could have stopped by, he chose today. My mouth is parched. Dread courses down my spine as I imagine what he saw and felt. My blood runs cold.
Snatching my coat and wallet, I kiss Anna’s forehead. “Sorry, I got to go.” And slam the door in my wake, yelling,
“Fuckity fuck fuck!”
* * *
Five audio messages.Ten texts. Fifteen PMs on social media… I kept my communications clipped; we need to address this face-to-face. Why is my man giving me the silent treatment?
Mike doesn’t trust me. Mike said he does, but doesn’t. Mike doesn’t love me… Wait! What? Holy shit! Did it have to come to this for me to realize that I didn’t want to lose him? Am I in love with Mike?
My lungs burn. I rock back on my heels on the stoop of his 11thStreet brownstone. Because I forgot my beanie in my haste and stubbornly refused to put my hood up, my damp hair sticks to my forehead and rivulets of water trickle down my face. I mentally curse the shitty Halloween weather and the nerve-racking subway ride.
Heart in my throat, I’ve been pondering my next move for the last half hour, in hopes that my favorite Manhattanite would emerge from his lair and listen to the voice of reason… aka mine. I need to make sure that he’s okay, right? Make sure that I’m not imagining things, right? Make sure that he shares my feelings, right?
My fingers twitch in my coat pocket. “I’m not using his key.” Tempting me, Mike’s key burns like the Grail. “I’m not using his key.” My new mantra is muttered between clenched teeth as I stand in front of his fucking door… which I haven’t knocked on yet. Instead, I stare at my wet boots and shake beads of water from my hair.
“You must be Troy?” A warm feminine voice wrenches me from my inner turmoil. My heart lurches like I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
Pretending that I’m not a sopping mess, I lift my head and find the kindest pair of eyes studying me. They belong to a regal-looking redhead. It’s clear where Mike got his good looks from. Nodding at her assumption, I offer a sheepish smile. “May I come in? Although, I probably owe you an explanation first.”
“Don’t be silly! I apologize for my lack of manners. Please, come on in.” She moves out of the way and gestures for me to enter. “I saw someone on the monitor and expected you to ring the doorbell! You’re drenched; I had to put you out of your misery.”
“You’re my fairy godmother then?”
“Ohhh, you have no idea! Hurry, or you’ll catch a cold.”
I nod a silent thank you.Why is she completely unfazed by my presence?Hesitant to step in, I cough, guarded, as if expecting Mike to storm down the steps; the familiar entryway is suddenly intimidating.
The chatty woman carries on cheerfully, taking my coat rather than acknowledging the elephant in the foyer. “Michael’s in serious need of comfort.” She winces. “I’m not saying that to make you feel bad.” Her kind words cleave my broken heart in two. I can’t stand that Mike’s miserable because of what he saw. Should I blame this clusterfuck on shitfaced Anna or on Mike’s lack of trust in us? Granted, seeing a woman in my bed must have pissed him off big time… How could he believe that I’d betray him? Frustration rolls through me, sending annoying tingles across my skin. “What’s going on between you and my boy is yours to sort out. I won’t interfere.”
Scratching my neck, I stare. She welcomed me, but I’d hate for her to think I’m a jerk for messing with her son, in more ways than one. “Did he say anything?”
