Page 20 of The Widower's Girlfriend
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “See, here’s the thing. It’s not teasing. The things she says to me are cruel. And I’ve let it slide for years. But I’m done now. I’m not saying we can’t ever be friends, but I won’t be hanging out with you guys unless I’m treated with respect.”
Diana is quiet while my stomach is in knots. I hate confrontation.
“Seriously? We’ve been friends since high school, Jay.” Diana sounds shocked and confused and a little bit angry.
“I know, which is why I didn’t do this sooner. Every time I’m around you three, I end up feeling bad about myself. Good friends don’t do that to each other. Even the fact that you call me ‘Jay.’ I told you guys years ago I hated that nickname, but you use it anyway. You make me feel like a third wheel, like you’re doing me a favor by inviting me, and I’m finally over it.”
“Is this because of Walker?” Diana still isn’t getting it.
I throw my hand up in the air, even though she can’t see me. “No! He encouraged me to do what I’ve already been thinking about doing, but that’s it. This is about you guys treating me like crap. I’m done, okay?”
Diana sniffs. “Okay. I’m sorry to see you go. But don’t think Amy will forgive you easily. Are you sure you want to do this?”
I sigh and shake my head. “Diana, this isn’t high school anymore. I don’t need to fear Amy’s wrath or take her crap to make sure I stay in the ‘club.’ Tell Justine I’m sorry for bailing on her wedding, but I think it’s best I don’t attend. Maybe we’ll talk later. Bye.”
I hit “end” and feel the sudden need to sit down before my legs give out. Walker appears in front of me and pulls me into his chest, holding my weight, knowing what I need. He kisses my forehead and then finishes up his phone call with the airline.
“Good job, sweetheart. You were firm without being mean. You said what you needed to say. I’m proud of you,” he whispers.
I sniff, feeling my eyes mist over with tears I really don’t want to shed. “Thanks,” I whisper back.
13
Walker
Asher’s phone call disturbed me more than I’d like to admit. As far as Jemma knows, we’re heading home to work out a plan, something simple to release on my site so people understand what’s going on. Ash ended the call urging me to keep it all a secret. I didn’t want to emphasize his opinion with Jemma because I can already tell she’s not sure about my celebrity status.
She immediately drew away from the stage and the spotlight last night. And I don’t blame her. It takes some getting used to when perfect strangers make comments about your personal life and feel they have a right to know everything. I’ve had a few years to acclimate; she’s just being introduced to it.
“Nice bag you got there.” I wink at her, gesturing to the brand-new navy suitcase I had delivered to her room yesterday. We planned to meet in the lobby and head to the airport together after getting both our tickets changed to an early 8 a.m. flight.
She blushes and smiles up at me so sweetly she reconfirms my decision to be honest with the public about our relationship status. I can’t hide her away; she’s too innocent and beautiful. I want to shout to the world that we’re a couple.
“Thank you again for the new bag. Although I think you just were looking out for other unsuspecting travelers who might fall victim to my exploding suitcase.”
I laugh out loud at the memory of the duct tape holding her other one together, or how the handle pulled right off the bag. “Nah, I just didn’t want to walk through the airport listening to those non-functioning wheels grind on the tile floor again.”
She smacks my arm halfheartedly. “It was part of my charm. Got you to stop and talk to me, didn’t it?”
I pull back, hand to my chest, acting shocked. “Why, Ms. Reed! Did you set me up? Was your bag just a ruse to draw in some naive widower who’d step in and sweep you off your feet?”
“Caught me,” she deadpans and then bursts out laughing.
See? This is exactly why I have to get the public on my side. I want all these moments with her and I can’t do that if we can only be seen together at certain times and only in private. Ash is wrong and as soon as I can get some time with him, I’ll prove it.
Our flight is smooth sailing, and before I’ve had nearly enough time with Jemma, we’re grabbing our bags off the baggage claim belt and sharing an Uber to my house in Newport Beach.
“So, where do you live?” I pull her hand into my lap in the back seat, needing her hand in mine. “I feel like we know each other so well, yet I know very little about you.”
She squeezes my hand. “You know a lot of the deeper level stuff with me, but we haven’t known each other long enough to go over the minor details. I live in Costa Mesa in a tiny home I just bought last year. It’s not too far from work, which is great since I practically live there.”
“Any roommates?”
“Nope, just me. The house is a total fixer-upper, and my mother gave me crap about buying it without a man around to help me, but I love it. Yeah, it needs work, but I just do a little at a time.”
I shake my head slowly. “Where did I find you?”
“Duh, at the airport just a few days ago. Did you hit your head?” she teases me.
