Keep Her (26 page)

“This should be fun… considering you were so off with your first guess.”

“Shhh. Okay,” I eyed him up and down and went for the obvious. “A tattoo artist.”

“Nope. And now you’re stereotyping me.” He frowned.

“Hmmm,” I thought, tapping my finger on my chin. “Please don’t say firefighter.”

“Nope. Don’t like them very much either.”

Think, Riley, think
. This guy was more than your run of the mill businessman. “Artist?”

“Getting warmer.” His eyes brightened.

“Singer?”

“Can’t hold a tune to save my life.”

“Musician?”

“Tone deaf.”

This was infuriating and fun all at the same time. “Ugh. Okay. One more and if I get it right you owe me a Fudgie Wudgie from the ice cream guy over there.”

“And if you
don’t
get it?” His eyebrow twitched upward.

“You can take me out.”

He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head as if he were confused. “Well, where’s the fun in that? I was taking you out anyway.”

“No. That’s what you
thought.
I had no intention of saying yes to your advances, Griff. I don’t just go out with random,
old
strangers who try to pick up girls on the beach. You could be a serial killer, for all I know.”

“Serial killer? Was that your final guess? No Fudgie Wudgie for you.”

“Hey! No fair. That wasn’t my guess.”

“Yup, too bad. You lose. I’m a photographer. And tonight I’m taking you to my favorite restaurant in Williamsburg. Want to give me your number so I can call you, or are you still scared I’ll hunt you down and chop you into little pieces?”

I was not afraid about my body being chopped into little pieces—it was my heart that couldn’t take the mutilation. And if Salt and Pepper Griffin kept looking at me like that, my heart, my lungs, and my sanity were all goners.

“Someone steal your Teddy Bear, dude? You’ve been one mopey motherfucker. What’s your problem?” Ramos was a dick. An irritating, pain in the ass dick. He’d been on my case for the last few weeks, making jokes like this and singing randomly made up songs about Marissa and Riley just to bust my balls.

The funny thing was—I couldn’t disagree with him on most of his lyrics. The ones about her bitchiness even made me laugh. Like the ridiculous ditty he sang about her begging me to leave the fireman’s ball because she’d forgotten to DVR
The Shahs of Sunset
.

Oh, Marissa, you should only know,

Lieutenant McNabb watches the same show.

He’d ditch his bitch and the ball,

for a chance with the Shahs and to fuck you against the wall.

But the songs about Riley—those tore me up and made me miss her even more. Even the mention of her name made me edgy. And the guys knew it. So when Ramos started up a new one:

Beck’s a schmuck for letting that one go.

He was too afraid of Marcus to let his feelings show.

He ended things with the poor broad with the swipe of his thumb

and now it’s been three weeks since the dude’s spilled his cum.

Derrick and Sean had to hold me back from decking him. “Really, asshole? Aren’t you tired of screwing with me yet?”

“Never. When have any of us ever relented on a pussy-whipped brother? You’re still cracking jokes about the way I cried at my wedding. It’s not my fault I was raised to show my emotions. Angel looked fucking gorgeous—all pregnant and glowing and shit.”

He had a point. There wasn’t a shift we’d worked together since his wedding that I hadn’t made fun of him for his theatrical waterworks.

But
this
was torture.

I couldn’t be the boyfriend Riley deserved, and I couldn’t stand to be the one to hurt her. Tessa’s argument in the debate was strong because she understood all the circumstances. If Marcus only realized it was his sister who was my “other woman,” he might not be so keen on advising me to go for what I wanted.

The rec room was hip deep in testosterone and flying insults by now. I exited the sausage party and found myself at my locker, scrolling through my cell phone in hopes of finding a text from Riley.

Was she as tormented as I was? I’d heard she’d been traveling a lot, racking up new clients left and right. I was happy for her. In my eyes, that girl would always deserve the best—yet another reason to stay away.

After scrolling through random notifications from Facebook and Instagram, I caught a text message from her—not the
her
I’d wanted to text me but the other
her
. Marissa.

What could she possibly want? The last time we spoke it was for me to come over and pick up some stuff I’d left at her place. When I got to her apartment she tried to convince me to stay for dinner, attempting to persuade me with a skimpy outfit and a few tasteless come-ons. In the past, I might have fallen for it. But Marissa’s advances were not what I craved. If it was Riley putting the moves on me and asking for another shot—I wouldn’t be as resistant.

Opening the text, I took a deep breath to ready myself for something I didn’t want to see.

Marissa:
Hey, was wondering if you’re doing anything next Saturday. My cousin Jodi is getting married (remember?) and I RSVP’d for two. Can you still make it as my plus one?

No. I was no longer her plus one and I had no intention of leading her to believe I ever would be again. But I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I came up with an excuse.

Me:
Sorry. Hate to miss it, but I’m pulling a double that weekend. It’s my turn on the rotation, thanks to Ramos. His baby is due soon.

Okay. So it was an elaborate excuse, but she would buy it because she knew the way things worked around here.

Marissa:
That sucks. Guess I’ll have to go stag.

Me:
Sorry

Marissa:
Don’t be. It’s not like you haven’t let me down before.

Guilt trips were unappealing, even through text messages. I really didn’t want to deal with that now—or ever.

Me:
Ris? Please, not again.

I readied myself for the long, drawn out text I was about to receive, but was surprised by her clipped response.

Marissa:
Good night, Beck. Sorry to bother you.

Me:
Good night, Ris. No bother. Be good.

There was no reason to burn bridges or be an asshole. After all, it wasn’t Marissa’s fault that our break brought me to another woman. And it certainly wasn’t her fault that the other woman was consuming my mind. Still, something made me angry with her, as if it
were
her fault. Deep down I truly believed that Marissa was the reason I couldn’t pursue a relationship with Riley right now.

If it weren’t for things ending so abruptly with Marissa, my heart, my mind, and my soul would be untainted and completely up for grabs. For Riley. All I needed was a little more time to prove to Riley that Marissa was my past and I wasn’t rushing into anything. Once I could show her that she was more than a rebound and more than a good time—I’d be at her doorstep promising her forever. If she’d have me.

Later that night when I got home, I rifled through the mail—a bunch of bills, a few magazines, a flier for a handyman trying to gain more business—until something caught my attention. It was a large orange envelope addressed to
Mr. Beck Matthews & Guest.
When I flipped it over to check the return address, I remembered that Tessa was planning a big first birthday party for Luca. If I recalled correctly his birthday wasn’t until October, but it must be the proper protocol to send these things out early to do all those annoying party planning things like seating arrangements and shit.

When I opened it, a smile crept to my lips when I saw the addition of Marcus’s name to the invitation.

Mommy & Marcus would be thrilled if you could join me,

Luca Thomas

As I celebrate the first year of my life with a Halloween Birthday Bash…

Wow!
Those two had clearly taken things to the next level. Whenever stationary was involved, it had to be serious. Good for them!

Marcus had spoken to me a few times about taking the next step and asking Tessa to marry him, but he also had other, more permanent plans. The same plans I’d had with Marissa before things went south and eventually nosedived. He’d been looking to buy a bigger place for all of them to live in. As a family. It was crazy how things had changed. I couldn’t believe the turnaround he’d made since meeting Tessa. It was like he was never that man-whore we knew him to be. He’d even taken on some more subtle gigs, not wanting to be unnecessarily
exposed
for just anyone anymore. He had no reason to be. He’d found the woman who made him happy—he didn’t need to search for that anywhere else. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous, but I was also sincerely happy for the guy. For all of them. Together that threesome made quite a team.

Tucking the invitation and the rest of the mail under my arm, I unlocked my door and walked into my empty apartment. Entering the darkness and the silence, the reminders of all the things I didn’t have that Marcus did, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to talk to her.

Switching on a light and then collapsing onto the couch, I kicked off my shoes, typed out a text, and let my thumb hover over the send button.

Me:
I miss you. Can we talk?

I sat there staring at that screen for what seemed like hours. In the end, I chickened out. Just a little more time. That’s all we needed. I thought back to that invitation—it could be a start. She’d be at that party. It was only a few months away. Maybe by then I’d be able to make promises. Promises that could be kept, not broken.