Best Friends With Benefits (Most Likely To) (17 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Fuck
. As quickly as Valerie had walked into his life she was running the hell out of it thanks to his baggage. But it wasn’t like she was innocent, either. He might have been willing to try at a relationship if she went to London, but she didn’t trust him enough to even consider going.

Didn’t believe he could stay true to her after being her best friend for fourteen years. But she wasn’t only asking him to stay true. She was asking him to be the one. The one she had been waiting for.

While he wished he could be that man, wished he could say,
yes I will be your life now
, he could not. It had hurt when she hurled it at him, but he
was
his mother’s son—someone who did not fight, who did not leap. Who let the world make his decisions for him.

He stepped out of the bathroom and sat on the bed, Valerie’s perfume assaulting him, punching his already ravaged gut.

Fuck this place.

He scrolled through his phone to call for his plane and felt a stab when he saw Valerie’s text stream.

He couldn’t call her to make him feel better this time—maybe ever again.

He clicked on Gideon’s number, but it went to voicemail. He swallowed a shudder. He couldn’t remember the last time one of his calls went to Val’s voicemail. The last time she didn’t respond to one of his texts.

He’d lost that now, too.

His finger hovered over the number for his plane. He knew he should want to be alone. He should be mountain angry and kicking and pounding and hating, but in that moment his heart screamed for someone to talk to.

He dropped his phone on the nightstand. He didn’t want his plane. He didn’t want to run. He wanted someone to listen, someone to hear him. He breathed in again, each petal of her perfume stabbing him like tiny knives.

She was gone, because she couldn’t trust him and because he couldn’t trust himself. The echo of her rang through the room, mirroring the emptiness she’d left in her wake. Without her, who did he have?

He got dressed quickly and headed downstairs, hoping he might catch Gideon at breakfast. He scanned the ballroom, but he wasn’t there. All his classmates seemed tired, hungover, and ready for this weekend to be done.

He knew exactly how they felt.

He spied Randy up at the omelet bar. “Have you seen Gideon?”

“I think he’s out by the pool,” he replied. “He and Georgia got into a whole thing earlier.” He shook his head. “Looks like everyone’s pussy machine is coming up empty.”

Alec fought the urge to shove Randy’s face into a hot pan. “You’re really a dick, you know that?”

“That’s what my wife tells me.” He smiled, remorseless.

Alec recognized that look. It was the same one he displayed before this weekend. The same armor he wore with women. Why the hell had he let Valerie shed him of it? He was nothing but raw nerves underneath. Nothing but everything he never wanted to feel. His head began to pound again, a headache gripping tight to his temples and squeezing. He clutched the back of his neck, hoping to knead it away, but it only intensified.
I am my mother’s son and my father’s prisoner. Even now he’s here reminding me I’ll never be good enough for Valerie.

He headed out to the pool and found Gideon sitting up on a chaise talking to Brandon White.

Fuck, this fucking morning could suck his fucking dick.

Alec didn’t want to deal with Brandon ever, but definitely not right now. Maybe Gideon had the right idea hanging with him, though. Being with the people everyone had always told you that you were meant to be with hurt too much.

Why didn’t Gideon call me to talk about Georgia?

His jealousy was silly, but understandable after what had happened with Valerie. As was the thought he couldn’t let go of. Maybe no one would ever need him again.

He headed out the side gate of the pool and around the parking lot to the Maserati. He sat in the driver’s seat and stared at his phone.

No Val, no Gideon, no one. Without even thinking, he clicked into the phone and called his mom. She answered on the first ring.

“Alec, I don’t want to talk about the house anymore.”

He bit his lip. The only people he cared about in this world were his mother and Valerie, and he couldn’t make either of them happy. His mother because she’d never believed she deserved to be, and Valerie because he didn’t believe he did, either. If only he could have stopped her. Pulled Valerie to him and held her until all their terrible words were used up, until just the two of them remained. But her words had hurt him, too, hurt him enough to keep him from reaching out. Hurt him because he understood exactly why she’d said them.

“I’m not calling about that,” he replied, but why had he called? What guidance could his mother give him about relationships?

None, other than to take shit because it’s all you’re worthy of.

“Oh,” she responded, her voice more chipper. “Did you tell Valerie I said hi?”

“Yes, Mom, several times,” he mumbled.

He wanted to say more. Tell his mom what had happened. Tell her everything he couldn’t tell Valerie, everything he should have told Valerie.

Ask if it was enough.

But the words stayed churning inside him. If he said them, admitted them, he was done for. He sat back in the seat and caught another whiff of Valerie’s perfume. The scent took over all his air. He was drowning in the hole she’d left, the hole he’d forced her to leave. Bigger than just this weekend, bigger and emptier than anything he’d ever known.

“What did she say?” his mom asked.

He’d forgotten his mother was on the phone. “She said hi, too.”

Memories flooded him. Val’s shocked laughter at each oddly timed mention of his mom’s greeting. The way she squealed when he first touched her, the way she moaned when he last did. The way their final kiss had been interrupted by sleep, and how that turned it into something that they still hadn’t finished.

That they might never finish.

“Such a sweet girl. Did you guys have a nice weekend together?”

Together—
they weren’t that anymore. In fact they’d never been further apart. The distance of London was nothing compared with what the discussion of it had wrought. How could he have let her leave their hotel room? Pushed her further away than a continent, hurled her into the black with him by trying to shield her from it.

“Yes, Mom.” His eyes started to water before he could stop them. He wondered if he’d ever find anything close to what he’d had that weekend again—with Valerie, ever again.

Was this it? Fourteen years of friendship and who knew how many years of what could have been more, over, just because they were both too scared to trust. Too stubborn to be the one to say,
let’s believe.

“I’m so glad. She always knew how to make you smile.”

He swallowed. She had, ten years ago, ten hours ago, and even before ten minutes ago. But now there was only stiffness in his chest, a heaviness overtaking him that made him want to forget, made him want to pick up the Maserati and hurl it at the sun.

It was a pain he didn’t know he was capable of feeling, pain that terrified him—pain that his father’s blows had taught him to suppress, to only feel physically. He pressed his hand to his forehead, waiting for the familiar headache to grip and grab, but tightness in his lungs, a twinge in his heart were all that assaulted him. Valerie might be gone, but he’d carry her there.

“I know I wasn’t always what you needed,” his mother said, “I know I’m still not, but I’m glad Val is. I’m glad she can be.”

His heart churned, bloodless. A chill rocked him so strongly it seemed to be shaking him by the shoulders. But he was enduring. He was still here—barely, but he was. He never wanted to feel this again, but he also knew that if he had to, he could bear it. It was worth bearing for the pleasure on the other side of the knife of love.

Love
. The word came again softer.

That was what he should have told Valerie.
I want you to go to London because I love you. I want you to want to go because you love me.

Alec couldn’t speak. Was it too late? Was it enough now to tell Valerie he loved her, to ask if she would love him even with everything he carried?

“Alec, are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here.” He was, and he would be for a lot more years, years he didn’t want to spend wondering, or missing, or hurting.

Years he didn’t want to waste anymore.

He might not be the man Valerie should count on, but he could be the man she would count on.

“Mom, I’m selling the house. I can’t keep trying to rescue you.” His words came quickly, and with them something lifted and was released.

She breathed out. “I’m not your burden anymore, Alec.”

Maybe he didn’t have to be his own burden anymore, either. He’d carried that scared little boy as armor because he’d been too afraid to let him go. Too afraid to be the kind of man he deserved to be. The kind of man Valerie deserved.

He didn’t want to be his mother’s son or his father’s prisoner anymore. He wanted to only be Valerie’s.

Chapter Eighteen

Valerie pounded on Cynthia’s door. Tears streamed down her face and dripped onto her neck, leaked into the cleavage of her tank top. She’d been so upset she left the room in her pajamas. She didn’t even have her phone or her wallet.

What if Cynthia isn’t here?
Damn her heart for making her brain stop working.

That had been the theme of this whole weekend. Alec making her stupid body ignore her good sense. She saw Alec’s eyes, his sad, disappointed eyes when he claimed she didn’t trust him. Her stomach listed.

She could blame him all she wanted, but it didn’t change that she hadn’t been willing to believe that he could stay faithful to her when she was a continent away.

But it wasn’t just London. If they were both in L.A. there would be times they would be separated for hours, or days, or weeks, or even sadly, minutes, and her concern would be the same regardless of the distance or time.

She would always wonder—
am I enough for him?

Trust was an easy way to explain a hard truth. How could she trust him, when she didn’t believe she was the kind of woman he should want?

She gulped, tasting salt. She couldn’t keep being disappointed, couldn’t keep expecting more from him or from herself.

She knocked again, stuck her ear to the door. Cynthia had to be there. Valerie couldn’t go back to her room, couldn’t delve back into the broken shards of their relationship that she’d left there.

She fisted her hands to pound again. A throb ran through her, hot and hard. She hadn’t left any hurt behind in that room. She was still carrying it all.

Cynthia finally pulled open the door. Her hair was wet and she was in a robe. “Meth Cupid paid me a visit. You just missed Jacob,” she chirped.

“Congratulations,” Valerie managed, trying to paste a smile over her tears.

Cynthia noticed Val’s wet face and her own crumpled. “What happened?”

“Alec.” Just saying his name squeezed at her chest.

Cynthia looked up and down the hallway. “Where is he? I’m going to kill him.”

“He’s still in our room. Can I come in before the gossip mill has even more fodder from us this weekend?”

“Of course.” Cynthia moved to the side and closed the door behind them.

Her bed was unmade and rumpled, the rumple that Valerie recognized as having had an amazing night last night. The same way her bed had looked before she’d brought up London. Before Alec forced her to see that she was no more ready for a relationship than he was. Valerie wished she could rewind, enjoy the moment before he stepped out of the shower for a little longer. When the only thing in the world was basking in the sanctuary they had made of their bed.

“I’m sorry,” Valerie said, standing uncertainly in the middle of the room. “You don’t want to deal with this right now.”

Cynthia glanced past her, her cheeks blazed, and she ran to pull up the comforter. “No, it’s fine. I’m not supposed to see Jacob until after breakfast. I have plenty of time.” Cynthia sat down on the bed and gestured for Valerie to join her. “Come talk to me.”

Valerie paused.

“Don’t worry, we weren’t on top of the comforter.”

Valerie let out a soggy chuckle. “I wasn’t even thinking about that.”

“Well, we weren’t in case you’re wondering. It’s clean. Or you know, relatively clean.”

“I’m happy for you, Cynthia,” Valerie said, forgetting her morning for a moment.

“I know.” Cynthia smiled so wide it could have filled its own bed. “But really Valerie, you’re crying, or at least you were. That trumps gushing about Jacob.”

Valerie nodded.

“So,” Cynthia said, pressing with one word in the way only someone who has known you for years can.

The words that had been churning inside burst out. “I was stupid to start anything with Alec. He might care about me as a friend, but he’s not capable of more.”

She didn’t add that even if he would have agreed she shouldn’t go to London, they would have had this same fight a week from now, or a month from now. While she had been blinded by his attention, she hadn’t been blinded enough to be able to see she deserved it. Her mouth went sticky and bitter. She wondered if she’d ever believed it. If even ten years ago when Alec had asked her to move to New York the reason she’d said no had less to do with him, and more to do with not trusting he could stay interested in someone like her. Not when he had the world ahead of him.

“He sure seemed into you,” Cynthia soothed.

“Into fucking me. Into being my friend,” Valerie replied, playing with the bottom of her shorts. “Not into the place beyond both those things.” Her words felt empty. It was what she thought, not what he’d actually said.

Not what she’d felt when he looked at her, when he kissed her.

“What happened? Did he break up with you?”

It stung to breathe. “We were never together, so no.”

But that wasn’t what had bothered her. She and Alec didn’t need labels like that. What broke her was that when the angry words were through, only silence answered. She exhaled and stared at her hands. She couldn’t even tell
Cynthia
what she was feeling; no wonder Alec had turned his back on her. She’d thought he couldn’t talk to her about London because he was closed off, but really they both were. It was why they’d gravitated to each other years ago. It was why even now they sat in separate rooms wondering if they were going to live separate lives but not doing anything about it.

Cynthia watched her, waited. She wanted the real story.

“I found out yesterday I was granted a seat in The London Philharmonic for next year.” Valerie wiped her nose. “I told Alec this morning I was thinking of not going, because of us.”

“Oh,” Cynthia said, her face a wash of understanding. “I guess he didn’t agree.”

“He told me I was nuts. He told me he wasn’t the guy I should change my life over. He wasn’t the guy I could count on.” She piled on all Alec had done, but she still couldn’t bear to tell Cynthia why she’d actually considered not going to London.

“The Alec I know would never let you turn that down.” Cynthia glanced at her tentatively. “Not the guy he was ten years ago and not the guy he seems to be now.”

“But if what he feels for me is real, shouldn’t he want to always be with me?”

Cynthia pursed her lips. “He might not always have the best way to say things, but I think that’s why he’s telling you to go. If he didn’t care he would let you make stupid decisions like turning down the Philharmonic, which, no offense, Valerie, was a monumentally asinine idea.”

Valerie sighed. “But we’ll never last that far away from each other.”

“Did you ask him if he wanted to try?”

She hadn’t, but how could she? Actually say the words
do you want to be with me?
What if he said no?

Alec might have wanted her to go to London because he cared about her, but did that matter if she hadn’t believed it?

But, why shouldn’t she? Every kiss and touch from Alec was proof she’d left
Barking
far behind. Every time she allowed him to adore the woman she was now, the echoes of her past disappeared. She wasn’t that girl anymore. She was a woman who Alec wanted, a woman who wanted him. Each time their bodies met had been a letting go, an acceptance that she deserved his attention, that she deserved him.

“No, I didn’t,” Valerie admitted, “but I think it’s more complicated than that.”

“What relationship isn’t? You guys have been friends for so long, you probably don’t even know that it’s okay to fight, to hurt, to lose, to compromise.”

“We do so,” Valerie countered.

“You might know that separately, but I’m guessing you don’t know that together.”

The words hit Valerie like a brick to her stomach. Maybe they didn’t. They never had to work at their friendship, it just was—easy, comfortable, casual Al and Val. When it got too hard they both got scared. They both didn’t know how to deal with it. They both reinforced the walls that had kept them apart since Alec had asked her to move to New York. Had kept either one of them from asking,
What are we?
What can we be?

Maybe the answer of silence wasn’t the last gasp of their relationship. It was the first breath of something that wanted to begin if just one of them was strong enough to ask. To say what they really wanted without fear.

Cynthia touched her knee. “So what are you going to do? You’re not going to leave things like this, are you?”

“I don’t know if I have a choice. I said some things I can’t unsay.

Cynthia sat back, her blue eyes clear. “Words said in anger don’t mean anything, Valerie, they are a shield.”

“But we both said them. We both held shields.”
Mine had spikes on it
, Valerie thought, recalling the line and curve of each cruel letter she’d uttered.
You are your mother’s son.
How could she have said that to Alec? To the one person in the world who had never been callous to her.

“Maybe you guys aren’t ready to put them down yet.” Cynthia shrugged. “Two people can be absolutely perfect for each other, but that doesn’t mean anything if they aren’t willing to risk giving it a try.”

“We hurt each other.” Valerie’s stomach became a tight fist punching her ribcage. “Alec and me.”

Cynthia’s eyes clung to hers. “But you found each other, too.”

Valerie’s eyes stung. They had and now they’d lost each other. She started to cry again, so hard she thought the tears might leave scars on her face.

“Listen, don’t make any decisions now. You’re upset. He’s upset. Take a shower. Go back to your room and get some clothes and we can have some breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.” Valerie pouted, thinking of breakfast with Alec from the day before, wishing she could be back there. Wishing the two of them could have stayed in that house away from all the noise of the real world forever.

Forever
. The word hit her again. It was what she thought she wanted with Charles, but she realized now losing him didn’t come close to this. Losing Charles was like losing a game of chess. Losing Alec was so much larger, because she hadn’t been playing to win. That was where real loss came from. It hit you without warning because you weren’t even part of the game.

“At least take a shower,” Cynthia pressed. “You can borrow some of my clothes.”

Valerie nodded. She could do that, but beyond the shower and getting dressed she wasn’t sure. Would she see Alec back in the room when she went to retrieve her phone and wallet? Or would he take his private jet out of Kenmore and out of her life?

No, she didn’t want a repeat of ten years ago, of a life without Alec.

She would find the strength to be the one to ask the question this time. New York or London, the idea was still the same. It was her turn to ask if Alec wanted to leap.