Page 115 of Double Down
She sits on the couch, crossing her legs, and I go straight to the bar, pouring two glasses of whiskey and passing one to her.
Phoenix takes the glass but doesn’t make room for me on the couch, so I sit in the armchair on the other side of the table. I’m maybe three feet from her, but it feels like miles. Her finger taps the side of the whiskey glass absently—or maybe angrily. I can’t tell which.
I wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t. She’s staring at me expectantly.
“It wasn’t—” I start, then stop.
She laughs, a single, short, sharp bark. “Wasn’t what, exactly? From where I was standing, it sort of looked like you brought a girl to our door.”
“I sent her away.”
“You still brought her here to fuck her, though, right?” she says, eyebrows shooting up.
“I was an idiot,” I say, because dressing it up won’t change a fucking thing. “I couldn’t find you, and I?—”
“So you found the next available warm body?” she says, and there’s a tremor in her voice that isn’t a wobble—it’s fury trying to stay inside its lines. “Newsflash, Maverick: if you want me when it’s convenient and anybody else will do when it’s not, then you need to let me go.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Okay,” she nods. “Then what is it like?”
“It’s like I’m losing my grip,” I say, too loud, and set the glass down on the table with a sharp snap of sound. “It’s like every time I try to fix something, it breaks twice as hard, and I just wanted five goddamn minutes of not being the guy who screws everything up. I was drinking, and I told her no. I just…I’m so damn tired of not being enough.”
I rub my wrists, the memory of plastic biting into my skin ingrained there. Phoenix stares at me, unblinking.
“I thought…” I stop. The truth is pathetic, but she deserves it. Even if I’m only telling her to win the bet, it’s still the truth. “I thought that maybe you had finally decided I’m the weak link. That you didn’t want to be near me. I figured you finally saw me for what I am—a pretender—and that you only wanted me because you thought you had to, for the others…”
Her mouth softens, opens a little on anohof surprise. “God, Mav. You really believe that, don’t you?”
“I’m not Atticus,” I say before I can swallow it. “I’m not Storm. I’m sure as hell not Conrad. I’m the fuck-up. The one who can only smile pretty for the cameras and do the easy shit that doesn’t matter. But I can’t even seem to do that right now without making everything worse.”
“No! No, Mav…you’re the one who knows how to make rooms breathe,” she says. “You’re the one who remembers every guest’s favorite drink and every dealer’s birthday. You’re the one who makes people want to come here. Baby, you are the life of the party and the heart of the Titans.”
I look at her and want to drop into her hands like they’re the only safe place left. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” she says. “I’m still so mad at you.”
“That’s really fucking fair.”
Silence sits with us for a beat but then she gets up and moves into my arms. Warmth spreads through me as I hold her.
“You don’t get to disappear into your worst habit when you feel small,” she says. “You come find me. You tell me you’re drowning. Let me help you the way you help me.”
I draw back and meet her pretty blues, wide with worry for me. “Only if you do the same, Firebird.” I say. She starts to look down, and I put a finger to her chin, tipping her gaze back up to mine. “We know you’re keeping secrets. We want you to trust us with them.”
“I’ll try,” she says. “But not right now.”
I nod and press a kiss to her forehead. “For what it’s worth… if you hadn’t walked in, I still wasn’t going to hook up with her. I told her no.”
“I believe you,” she says, and the muscles in my chest slowly relax.
The elevator dings out in the hall. Somewhere in the building, Atticus is trying to trap a ghost. Somewhere else, Conrad is telling a senator’s wife she looks perfect. Storm is probably interviewing someone who will lie right up until they see his face in a certain light.
Adulting is a rigged game we’re being forced to play before we’re ready. But if I can keep this woman, she might be the piece we need to win.
I close my eyes and let myself have fifteen seconds of not hating who I am.
It lasts fourteen.
