Chapter 15
Brittany
“This smells fantastic.” Keeping his hands on the hot rags, Connor takes the steaming dish from my hands.
“I slaved all day over a hot stove for you,” I say jokingly as I follow him into the kitchen. “So now what are you going to do for me?”
Connor puts the lasagna on the stove top. “Where’s the whipped cream?” he whispers, wrapping his arms around my waist.
Bringing my hands to his chest, I slide them up his neck. Then I cup his face in my hands and kiss him softly. “It’s already in your fridge,” I mumble, my lips brushing his. “I brought it over when I borrowed the casserole dish. Wasn’t sure what Logan would think if I walked in with a can of whipped cream and no dessert to go with it.”
“But you did bring dessert.” Connor’s husky voice wraps around my body. “I plan to lick it off of you here”—he trails his lips to the base of my neck—“and here”—his tongue darts out, making a path along the tops of my breasts—“and we can’t forget about here,” he says, slipping his hand between my legs.
I’m ready to rip my clothes off so he can fuck me right here in the kitchen, company be damned.
How in the hell does he do that?
“Connor.” I hate to admit it, but yes, I just whimpered his name.
He hoists me up on the counter and pushes my legs apart, making room for his big, sexy body.
“When you say my name like that, it makes me want to do dirty, dirty things to you.” His mouth descends and he attacks my neck. My head drops back between my shoulders, giving him better access. There is no way we’re going to make it through—
“Connor, can I get another towel?” My head snaps forward at the sound of a delicate voice—a delicate female voice. Then, as a half-naked woman rounds the corner, my heart seizes in my chest. Long, dark hair spills over her shoulders, water dripping down her bare arms, and miles upon miles of long legs are on display.
I think I’m going to throw up.
“Oh, shit.” The woman’s steps falter when she locks eyes with me. “I’m so sorry,” she says, fisting her hand in the knotted towel, just above her breasts. She looks as shocked as I probably do.
Connor groans, dropping his head to my shoulder before turning around. “Logan, this is—holy shit, woman! Go put some clothes on.”
Logan.
Connor’s best friend is named Logan.
Oh no. No-no-no-no.
“I need another towel,” she says, right before giving me a bashful smile. “I really am sorry.” She takes a step toward us and my entire body freezes. “I don’t usually”—her words trail off and she waves her hand in the air—“you know, walk around here…like this.”
I’m at a complete loss for words as she stares at me, presumably waiting for me to tell her that’s it’s all right and I understand. But it’s not all right, and I most certainly do not understand. And—oh great—now Connor is staring at me.
“You know what?” Logan says, gesturing toward the hall. “I don’t need that other towel. I’ll just…go.” She scurries off and I watch her until she disappears. I can see out of the corner of my eye that Connor hasn’t taken his eyes off me.
“Hey.” Connor puts his face in front of mine. “Are you okay?” He runs soothing hands down each of my arms, and my body stiffens. Scooting forward, I nudge him back, and when there’s enough room, I slide off the counter.
“So…” Running my shaky hands down the front of my shirt, I sidestep Connor. “That’s your best friend Logan?” I’m proud that I was able to keep my voice from wavering because, really, I don’t want Logan to be his best friend.
“It is.” Those two little words are said with so much caution that I know he knows I have a problem with it. “Are you okay?”
I would be, except you forgot to mention that Logan is of the vagina-yielding species.
My lungs fight to suck in air, but it’s getting more difficult with each passing second. Pressure builds behind my eyes and I blink several times to keep the tears at bay, though I know it’s only a matter of time. “Wow.” I blow out a long breath. “Your best friend is a woman.”
“Brittany.” Connor steps in front of me. Tilting his head to the side, he studies me. We’re not touching, but God do I want to touch him. So bad. I want him to wrap me in his arms, tell me this is all some horrible mix-up, and promise me that everything will be okay. But that won’t happen and I need to quit being so damn naïve. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that Logan was a girl. To be honest, I didn’t even think about it. She’s like a sister to me.”
Funny, Tyson said the exact same thing.
How in the hell did I not see this coming? “Of course she is,” I mumble. My heart is screaming at me not to make any rash decisions, but my heart is also the traitorous bastard that got me here in the first place.
I look at the front door and then down the hall. Logan hasn’t reemerged and I’m wondering if she has her ear pressed to a door, trying to listen. Bile rises in my throat and I swallow hard. I’m seconds away from losing my shit, and I sure as hell won’t lose it with another woman here. “I need to go,” I say, scurrying toward the front door.
“Wait.” Connor snags my wrist and spins me around. Brows dipped low, he shakes his head. “Are you upset because I didn’t tell you Logan is a girl?” he asks. “Because I would’ve told you if I thought it was going to be an issue—hell, if I’d even thought about it.” His voice is no longer gentle and careful, instead it sounds as though he’s frustrated.
Welcome to the club, buddy.
“I’m sure you would have.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Releasing my wrist, Connor steps back and runs a hand through his hair. Lacing his fingers behind his neck, he releases a heavy sigh. “I’m so fucking lost right now.”
“She’s your best friend,” I state simply, as though he should understand. I know in my heart that he doesn’t, but we’ve already established what an idiot my heart is.
“So what?”
So what? So what? I’ll show him so what!
“You have a key to her place.” I wasn’t asking, I was making a statement, but Connor answers me anyway.
“Yes, I do.”
“How often do you use it?” I don’t even know why I’m asking. I guess I’m hoping that if he only uses it once a month then maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to move past this.
“What the fuck?” he growls, tossing his hands up at his side. “I don’t know. A couple of times a week, maybe. But what the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“Have you slept with her?”
His jaw drops open, but he quickly recovers. “No,” he snaps. “I haven’t fucked her if that’s what you’re asking. Look, I made a mistake. I should’ve told you and I’m sorry. Please”—he shakes his head—“don’t do this. I know what you’re doing, and I’m asking you not to do this.”
“You don’t know what I’m doing,” I say with a tad more bite than I intended. Connor’s eyes widen. It looks like we’re having our first official fight…and ironically, our last. “Do you love her?” I want to punch myself in the fucking face for asking. It’s completely unfair to him—and to Logan—but I need to hear him say it.
It doesn’t matter what his answer is, I tell myself. You need to leave now. Make a clean break while you can.
“Of course I love her. She’s my best friend.”
My heart twists painfully inside my chest. It’s as if I’m right back where I was when Tyson left. I can’t do that again. I can’t pour my heart and soul into someone—and I would’ve poured my heart and soul into Connor—and risk being left again. I’ve regained some strength over the years, but I’m not that strong.
“I’m sorry,” I say, all of the fight draining out of me. I won’t resort to acting like a jealous teenager. Twisting my hands in front of me, I will myself to find the courage to walk away. After a deep breath, I say, “I’m sorry for leading you on like this. I know I’m not making any sense, but…but I can’t do this with you.”
The air grows thick with tension. Connor purses his lips but doesn’t say a word. Instead, he walks straight to the door. Twisting the knob, he pulls it open and steps back, giving me plenty of room to pass. I walk toward him, hating the way his gaze drops to the floor. The tic in his jaw catches my attention.
Connor doesn’t understand what’s going on and that doesn’t sit well with me. If I’m going to walk out of here, never to return, then he at least deserves to know why.
“I was engaged,” I blurt out. Connor looks up and now it’s my turn to look down. I don’t want to see the pity I know he’ll offer, because that’s what everyone does.
Clearing my throat, I start talking, and I don’t stop until I’ve told him everything. “We were college sweethearts, together for years. In 2006, we applied to med school in New York and we both got in.” I smile to myself, remembering how happy I was. The same kind of happy I was just minutes ago. “Right before the big move, Tyson’s best friend—who happened to be a woman—confessed her love for him.” I suck in a shuddery breath. I’ve worked so hard to forget that horrible night, and reliving isn’t going to be fun.
“She begged him to stay and give her a chance, but he didn’t. He walked away from her—he chose me. I was thrilled because, in the back of my mind, I’d always thought he had a thing for her, but I had to have been wrong, right?” I shrug. “That was his opportunity to be with her and he didn’t take it. Anyway,” I say, rubbing a hand over my face, “we moved to New York and started our lives there. The years went by, and like any normal couple, our relationship progressed. One year over Christmas break, Tyson brought me back home, and after asking my parents for permission, he proposed.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I allow the warmth and love from that moment to seep back into my heart, a glimpse of what true love—or what I thought was true love—felt like. “You know that old saying that hindsight is twenty-twenty? Well, it’s true.”
Connor has been eerily silent and I peek up at him. I’m shocked when I don’t see pity swimming in his eyes. Empathy, yes, but no pity, and in this moment my respect for him grows. “We weren’t living our lives. I was living my life and Tyson was living around me. We were merely existing, and I wish I would’ve noticed it sooner. But it was too late. I came home from the hospital one night and found him sitting in the living room surrounded by suitcases.”
The pain from that moment pierces my heart. Lifting my hand, I prepare to rub away the ache—the same ache I get in the left side of my chest any time I think about that night. Only this time, the ache doesn’t come.
“Tell me the rest.” Connor’s voice is raspy, his eyes filled with emotion.
“He left me. Broke off the engagement, moved back home, and eventually won back the girl he truly was in love with.”
“His best friend.” It isn’t a question. Connor’s a smart man and he easily puts two and two together.
I nod. “Her name is Harley and, believe it or not,” I say, laughing mirthlessly, “I actually like her. I don’t want to like her, but I do. And I’m sure I would like Logan as well, but I just… I can’t put myself in that position again.” Reaching out, I wrap my hand around the doorknob, ready to make my escape—but not before finishing the story. I’ve come this far, so I may as well tell him the rest. “Tyson is adopting Harley’s son and they have a baby on the way. Three weeks ago they tied the knot.”
Connor’s eyes widen. “Ad astra per aspera,” he murmurs.
I scrunch my nose. “Huh?”
“Your tattoo.” Connor takes a hesitant step toward me. “You came into my shop on their wedding day. That’s why you got the tattoo.”
I take a deep breath but it catches in my throat, and I close my eyes to try and stop the building tears. There’s no point in denying it, but I also don’t want to talk about it. Opening my eyes, I step through the doorway and spin around to get one last look at Connor. His anger and frustration from moments ago are completely gone and his eyes are pleading with me to stay.
But I just can’t. By staying, I’m opening myself up to the kind of pain I experienced before, and that’s exactly what I’ve been afraid of.
I had a momentary lapse in judgment when I decided to let Connor in. My mistake. Either way, I’ll move on, and so will he.
Fuck. I don’t like the sound of that at all, but it’s for the best.
“The tattoo you got that day, what does it mean?” he asks, almost frantically.
“A rough road leads to the stars.” I don’t wait around to see his reaction or give him time to respond. “Goodbye, Connor.” I shut the door before he has the chance to stop me from leaving. Pressing my back against the wood, I squeeze my eyes shut and blow out a long, slow breath.
A few moments ago when I was talking about Tyson, I’d waited for my chest to ache. It never did. But now that I’ve walked away from Connor, the pain is back. This time, however, it’s so much more than an ache—it’s a stabbing pain that not only slices through my heart, it pierces my soul.