Page 100 of For You & No One Else (Say Everything 3)

Twenty-Six

After another long day of work, Beckham found himself venting to Trent about a particularly challenging computer security issue he’d faced today. Trent, for his part, seemed to listen but offered no helpful advice on how to tackle the newest virus that had invaded one of Beckham’s client’s systems. Instead, he meowed, demanding dinner.

“I’m working on it, buddy.” Beckham grabbed the container of cat food from the pantry, autopiloting through his new nightly routine. He’d been going in late and leaving late for the last two weeks, making sure to avoid the times Eliza was usually in the hallway. It was juvenile, but he just didn’t want to deal with any of it right now. He didn’t know what to say or even who was right or wrong anymore. Maybe neither. Maybe both. All he knew was that the situation sucked. A lot.

So he worked and worked and then came home to Trent, going through the soothing motions of feeding him, getting him water, putting out fresh litter, and giving him cuddle time. Beckham just needed to keep moving. The minute he let his mind wander, he got pissed all over again and then hurt and then back to pissed.

And that anger was mostly directed at himself. He’d known better than to do this. Since everything with Jess and then getting sober, he’d been an expert at keeping things chill. Easy, low-key relationships with friends. Full control at his job. No-drama dates with women who didn’t want any more from him than a fun night. Stress had been a cancer in his life, one that had triggered addiction and dangerous behavior. His father had told Beckham when he was a teenager that he had a weak personality, one that couldn’t handle hard things. He’d told his father he had a dick personality, but his dad’s words had buried under Beckham’s skin just the same. Because the truth was, when the video had been leaked and things had gotten intense for him and Jess, he had collapsed under the weight of it. He’d drowned himself in alcohol, and when that didn’t work, he’d run away.

Since then, he’d done everything he could to get stress out of his life so he wouldn’t find himself in that kind of death spiral again. Leaving his family, his marriage, and the belief system he’d grown up with. Shedding his old identity so the media couldn’t seek him out. Starting a new life with clear rules. He wasn’t cold, but he didn’t get his feelings involved in anything. No one could crush you if you didn’t give them access to the fragile parts of yourself.

Then Eliza had happened.

Beckham had thought he’d played it smart with her. What they’d had was different from what he’d had with women before, but he’d been up front about what he could and could not do. He’d allowed himself to feel…affection for her, but thought he hadn’t let it go beyond that. What a delusion that had turned out to be. If that had been true, seeing her writing that book shouldn’t have torn him up like it did. The fact that she’d lied to him shouldn’t have felt so soul-destroying.

The truth was he’d let his guard down. He’d let himself get too attached, left himself open. He felt…too much for her. And hearing her throw theloveword around, well, he didn’t believe she really felt that way—she wouldn’t if she truly knew him—but the ache it had sent through him had been unacceptable. He shouldn’t want that from her. It was selfish, for one. Eliza deserved to get what she wanted—the fairy-tale guy with the fancy wedding and the two-point-five kids and whatever else she imagined for her life. He couldn’t be that guy. But it also scared the hell out of him that he didn’t want to imagine her getting back on those dating apps or going out with anyone else.

That jealousy was new and foreign to him. He’d never had that, not even with Jess. He’d always thought that the possessive posturing guys did was ridiculous. He wasn’t a caveman trying to secure a female for his genetic line’s survival or whatever. But goddammit, when he’d seen Eliza kiss Will, he’d wanted to stomp around like a Neanderthal.

Which was all the sign he needed. He had to go cold turkey with Eliza. Just like the booze. He didn’t want anything or anyone in his life to have that kind of pull on him.

Trent meowed, breaking Beckham from his tornadic thoughts, and then knocked his water bowl over. He skittered backward and yowled when he got wet.

“Dude,” Beckham said with a sigh. “If you put both paws in it, you’re going to get wet.”

Trent looked at him as if Beckham had personally doused him and therefore offended him on a deep level.

Beckham dropped a kitchen towel on the floor to mop up the puddle and then grabbed the bowl and went back to the sink to refill it. As he was setting it on the floor, the doorbell rang. He frowned, wiped his wet hands on his jeans, and then went to the door. Khuyen had said he might stop by for a little while to play video games—another mindless activity Beckham had leaned into lately—but usually Khuyen texted when he was on his way up.

Beckham pulled his phone from his pocket to see if he’d missed a text as he made his way to the door. Seeing nothing, he bent a little and checked the peephole. The person standing on the other side had long blond hair, her back turned to him.

Ah, someone had the wrong condo. He quickly unlocked the door and swung it open.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I think you might have the wrong—”

The woman turned around, familiar blue eyes meeting his.

His stomach dropped, the rest of his sentence falling away. He blinked, not believing what he was seeing for a moment. Maybe he’d fallen asleep on the couch with Trent. Maybe he was dr—

“Hi, Matt.” The soft, familiar voice was like hearing a ghost whisper in his ear.

All his breath left him, goose bumps pricking his arms, and his old world came crashing back into focus.

“Jess.”

***

“Beckham’s backed out because he’s going through one of his workaholic phases, but you should totally come. We have two open spots now. It’s going to be a blast.”

Eliza smiled and tucked her phone against her ear so she could fold the clothes she’d dumped onto her bed. This was the second time Will had called her in a week, and she found she enjoyed chatting with him when there wasn’t any pressure of a date surrounding it. When she’d admitted to him that she felt more of a friend vibe than a dating vibe with him, he’d easily accepted the news and said he was happy to have a new friend. “I’m sure it will be, and I appreciate the invite, but Beckham will probably change his mind.”

“So?” he said, and she could almost hear him shrug. “That means there will still be one more spot.”

She wrinkled her nose at the thought. Trapped on a Mardi Gras float with Beckham for hours, everyone shoulder to shoulder and nowhere to escape?Hello, torture.“Beckham and I…aren’t really talking right now. Stupid work argument. So it’d be awkward if we both end up on the same float.”

“Work argument?” Will sniffed. “Uh-huh.”

She paused in folding a pair of pajama pants. “What?”

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