The Perfect Plans Series [Box Set] (82 page)

Looking up to face him, our eyes lock uncomfortably in the silence before we both attempt to speak, our words overlapping, swallowed by uncomfortable air. I look down momentarily once more, biting my lip before returning to his gaze.

His broad, white-toothy grin flashes a signal of welcome relief, and I smile as well, staying quiet to let him go first.

“It was a mistake,” he begins. “That’s all. Let’s just chalk it up to a…
rather
awkward test of friendship. The key word being
friendship
, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” I smile, more than relieved. I just want to forget that entire night ever happened - well, that’s not exactly possible right now where Alex is concerned, but it’s a more than welcome start on this end. And I’m jumping on the bandwagon with a serious giddy-up distraction, “
Speaking
of friendship,” I can’t keep the glimmer of plotting from flashing across my happily relaxed face, “…my good friend, Emily…”

“Uh oh,” he laughs. “Are you about to set me up?”

“Only because I believe it’s a
good
set up. Trust me.”

“I do,” his smile is genuine.

“Good.”

“Are
we
good?”

“We’re good,” I mentally make a check off the bottom of my shit-storm list.

“Are
you
good?”

A loaded question. My insides scream no, but I can’t ignore the sudden pull of my heart telling me that I
can
be. One simple phrase floats through my mind, echoing through every pore…
Fight for him
. And that’s exactly what I intend to do. “You know what,” I finally answer with a smile, “I think I will be.”

FIGHT FOR HIM…
You’re damn right I will.

There’s just one problem.

I’m T-minus twenty-four hours away from my best friend’s wedding. A wedding that has been less than two weeks in the making.
Where, exactly, can I fit in this epiphany?
I scour over the items on the to-do list, the shit unchecked like a kick in the teeth.

“Abs, you look like your brain is about to explode. Should I be concerned?” Stacey asks, walking towards me from the stairs.

“Ahhh,” I look up to meet her painfully twisted gaze. “No,” the word is far too high-pitched and perky to pass for believable, so I offer a wide forced smile. “But, we do have a lot to do today, where would you like to start?” I look back to the list, preparing to make suggestions.

“Is this your way of avoiding telling me about how it went with your Ken Doll neighbor?”

“Actually no,” I slap her arm, ignoring her over-exaggerated open-mouthed shock, her arm darting to rub it away, “But thanks for the reminder that you deserved that. Everything is fine with Andrew.”

“Well, you’re welcome, bitch. At least that’s one thing off your dumbass plate. And you know what?” she grabs the list from me, “Maybe that quote wasn’t the wrong one after all.”

“What quote?” I look up, confused.

“The one I used last night. I think you should really think about it right now.”

“And you think calling me stupid again today is going to help us get through that list how, exactly?”

“Not that quote,
stupid
,” she grimaces sarcastically. “The one about painful endings being the start of new beginnings.”

“Okay, Stace,” I roll my eyes. “Even sober I don’t have any idea what you’re trying to say. And we don’t have time for riddles and games,” I stand from the sofa, snatching the list back, “We have too much to do.”

“No,
you
,” she points a finger in my face. “You need to pick up the damn phone and just call Alex already.”

“And say what?” I shout, begging for the answers to make everything better. I’m dying, with every minute that passes since seeing him again, touching him again. I’m
dying
.

Looking down, I swallow the lump in my throat, attempting to seal the well of tears that are building. The sunlight flickers through an opening in the clouds outside, its unshielded rays hitting Stacey through the window, her beautiful engagement ring sparkling. My best friend is getting married tomorrow, and
I’m
the only thing she’s worried about. After everything she’s done to be there for me.

Shame and guilt seep into the cocktail that fills my broken heart. “Stace…”

“Please, Aby,” she pleads. “Call him.”

“I want to, I just don’t know what to say…yet.”

“It will come to you,” she picks up my cell phone from coffee table, holding it towards me.

I just stare at it. My brain completely shut down, my broken heart suddenly racing at the thought of hearing his voice. An image of him hanging up on me stabs my chest.

“Fine,” Stacey snaps, opening the contact list to find his name, hitting ‘talk’ before shoving the phone in my face. “You can say something, or hang up on him. You decide,” she releases it just short of my grasp.

Shit!
I struggle to right the phone, shaking as I draw it to my ear. Luckily it’s still engaging, and with each ring, I gasp for air as my lungs seem to close in protection against the pounding thunder in my chest.

The ringing finally stops, signaling his missed call message is about to engage.
Voicemail
, I mouth to her, even more panicked.

She gestures in sarcastic silence, rolling her eyes, and before I know it his recorded voice slams me in to la-la land. His silky British accent melts through me, gliding over every sensitive nerve. His delicious voice could tame a tiger, leaving it purring like a kitten in his hands.

The sound of the beep slams me back to the present akin to the alarm of an atomic attack. My heart leaps from my chest realizing it’s time to talk and I have no idea what I want, or need to say.

Completely lost to my panic, I hang up.

“What. The. Fuck. Was that?”

“What do you think it was?” I bite. “I…”

“You freaked out like a pimple-faced teenager calling the school jock about the fucking prom.”

“Yeah, something like that,” I scowl, folding my arms, flopping down on the sofa.

“So, would you like to discuss what you’re going to say when he calls back?”

“What?” I gasp, struck by the panic gods yet again.

“Caller ID, dumbass.”

“Humph-humph-humph,” I moan-pout dramatically, bouncing in place like a frustrated child. “Why did you make me call him before I was ready?” I lay my sour, venomous gaze on her, “You’re evil.”

“Look at you, for shit sake, you’re shaking like a candy crack-head in rehab. You have a disease, my little petal, and Alex’s dick in your vajayjay is the only cure.”

“One, I hate you, and, two, you’re disgusting.”

“You don’t hate me, and you know what I’m really saying is that you’re head over heels, madly, insanely in love with Alex Tate. The only cure, poodle, is to go get your man.”

“Go get him? I couldn’t even form words using the telephone. Stace, I’m going to need a little time.”

“And therapy, my little drama queen, but that’s neither here nor there,” she winks. “Okay, let’s make a deal…”

“I don’t make deals with the devil,” I retort sarcastically.

“Zip it. If he calls back, you can just deal with it your way. But,” she puts a finger up, “…if you haven’t heard from him by the time we’re done our errands, we stop at his place so you can talk to him in person.”

“Stace, the last thing you should be doing the day before your wedding is waiting who-knows-where while I beg my boyfriend to take me back.”

“Nonsense. There’s no place I’d rather be then supporting my best friend. But, if your little chat turns into
bow-chicca-bow-bow
, I’m outta there. Do we have a deal?”

Rolling my eyes, I wrap my pinkie around hers, outstretched. “Deal.”

“Good, now I’ll go grab a shower and make a few calls while you finish your speech.”

“My speech?”

“Are you kidding me? You haven’t even started it? And here I am helping you turn your painful endings into new beginnings,” she playfully gasps. “Get to it, slacker,” she winks, heading for the stairs.

Shit
.

“DID HE CALL yet?”

“No. Will you stop with the kid-on-the-family-trip repeated question. If you ask me one more time, I’ll hurt you.”

“I’m just saying, maybe you should check your phone. Is it on mute?”

I glare at her until she turns my way.

“Maybe he sent a text,” she continues, ignoring my daggers.

“I. Will. Hurt. You,” I repeat with a second load of darts in my gaze. “It’s bad enough I’m still trying to survive your driving. Why on earth did Thomas let you use his car?”

“Let’s just say I had a
head up
in the persuasion department,” she winks, taking her eyes of the road for a millisecond -
Shit, she’s as scared as I am
.

“I think we would have been both faster
and
safer riding the tube.”

“I’ll have you know, I passed the drivers test six months ago - mind you it was the third test, but whatever,” she laughs it off.

“Oh,
nice
,” I grab the upper support handle dramatically to tease her. “What made you do the drivers test, anyway? You were never here long enough to necessitate the use of a vehicle.”

“Thomas, of course,” she glances at me, rolling her eyes. “He was insistent that I learn to drive like a
proper
British citizen.”

“Oh was he? Six months ago, hmmm? That’s interesting. He did realize that you were still freelance in the playgirl department back then, right?”

“I wasn’t,” she almost whispers, not taking her eyes off the road.

“What?” I turn in my seat, staring at her in shock.
How did I not know this?
“You never said a word, Stace!
I
knew he was ‘the one’, even back then, but I had no idea that
you
knew. Why didn’t you say something?”

“What, and ruin my perfectly good reputation?” she laughs, half-heartedly.

“Seriously, Stacey, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was scared shitless, that’s why.”

Oh my God
. “You are the most unselfish person I know,” I shake my head, guilt seeping through my pores at the idea that my best friend - who does so much for me - needed me herself, and I didn’t even know. “I’m sorry, Stace. You deserve a better friend.”

“Oh, shut it. You have no idea what having you in my life all these years has done for me,” her gaze remains locked on the road ahead, though I sense it’s to keep me from reading more in her eyes.

“Stace,” I rest my hand on her leg in a loving gesture.

“I mean it, Abs, shut it,” she smiles at me. “One nut job at a time, babe. We have to get you to your man. Those pretty manicured fingers of yours will look fab wrapped around his dick tonight,” she adds quickly, signaling the conversation has clearly changed.

For now
. I plan on making it up to her very soon though. I’ve clearly let the ball drop, lost in my own issues. And that guilt is suddenly, and dangerously, mixed with the dread I feel at seeing Alex shortly. My stomach is in knots, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Okay, pookie, this is it,” Stacey flashes me a boosting smile, locking the gear into park. “Off you go,” she scoots me out of the car, leaning over to catch my terrified gape before I close the door, “Rock that apology like a sorry whore on a big juicy dick. Oh! And don’t forget,” she pauses for me to bend down to her gaze once more, “…Alex, a.k.a the sorry
dick
in this dumbass equation, already apologized for his stupidly, but not enough - make him work for the metaphorical orgasm, babe. You may have kissed the neighbor frog, but he left you out on the lily pad without a boat.”

Humph
. I walk away shaking my head. Very well said, but somehow the butterflies in my stomach are still twisting into a swarm of bees, and I’m not sure I’m ready for the big sting.

Taking a deep breath, I knock on the door, waiting half a second before trying again. There’s no answer and I look towards Stacey in the car.

What?
she mouths through the closed window.

“No answer,” I whisper, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it - it’s not like she can hear me.

She starts pointing frantically, and I have no idea what the hell she’s trying to say.
What?
I mouth, putting my hands up, shrugging my shoulders.