“I didn’t realize you felt you were competing with anyone,” I said truthfully.
Chelsea snorted inelegantly. “Come on. You think I didn’t know that you always wanted Two-Backed—” I glared at her, and she grimaced. “Sorry, Meghan. The two of you were ridiculous. Everyone knew that you two were into each other, except you two.”
“So why did you want to be with me?” I asked, confused.
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Because you’re Adam Ducate. Every girl wanted you. I wanted what they couldn’t have. It’s a hell of an ego boost to lay claim to the boy everyone thought was unattainable.”
I didn’t know whether to be insulted or not. I chose not to be. It didn’t matter.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. It felt like the only thing I could say.
Chelsea shrugged. “I knew the bed I was lying in. And we had some good times, didn’t we?” She sounded so young, so vulnerable. I didn’t know this Chelsea. She wasn’t completely horrible.
“We did,” I agreed because she was right. It wasn’t all bad. Just most of it.
We sat there together, neither of us talking, taking a moment to process the ending of a decade together.
“No counseling, Chelsea. We both need to move on. You can have the timeshare in Aspen, but the lake house is mine.”
Chelsea wiped her eyes. “No counseling. I’ll sign the papers in the morning.” She stood up and puffed up her hair, putting a hand on her hip. “I don’t need to hold onto a man that doesn’t want me. There’s bigger and better fish than Adam Ducate.”
I smiled, and she smiled back. I didn’t take offense at her statement. We were past that.
“You’ll land a fucking whale, no doubt.” I laughed, and she laughed too.
I followed her downstairs and handed her the coat she had left draped over the couch. I had to turn off the Beiber before I started throwing things.
Chelsea slung her designer bag over her shoulders and paused by the door. “I should let you know that Meg came by.”
I drew up short, every muscle freezing. “What?”
Chelsea winced. “I answered the door—”
“Dressed like that?” I demanded.
Chelsea nodded. “She wasn’t happy.” I could only imagine what she thought. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “I’m sorry for messing it up for you, Adam.” For the first time, she sounded sincere. It was a strange look on her.
I sighed and grabbed my keys. “If things are messed up, it’s not about you, Chelsea.” And it was true. The issues between Meg and me were deeper than that. Trust was a hard thing to rebuild once it had been broken. I only hoped Meg would let me try to put it back together.
I stepped out onto the porch and saw two bottles of champagne propped against the side of the house. A piece of paper stuck out beneath one of the bottles.
I picked it up and read the words, my blood running cold.
It’s never going to be you and me. Thank you for showing me the truth.
Meg
It was too late.
God, it was too late.
I felt my world crumble into a thousand pieces.
**
It had been two days since everything fell apart. Meg wouldn’t speak to me, and I had given up trying to make her. We had been on the cusp of something great, and she threw it all away over a misunderstanding. But could I honestly pretend that Chelsea was the source of the problem? No. It went deeper than that. And the only one who could fix it was Meghan.
I missed her. I ached for her. I felt fucking incomplete without her. I picked up my phone a hundred times to text her, to call her. I was going half out of my mind.
“What’s crawled up your ass? Piece of pussy get you down?” Jeremy asked on day three post-Meg. He had no idea what door he had just opened with his casual douchery.
“Fuck off, Wyatt,” I snarled. I was trying to work on one of my dozen cases, but I had been circling around the same paragraph for the last hour. Finally, I shut down my laptop, slamming the lid down with a bang.
“It’s a good thing those are tax-deductible with the way you’re slamming around,” Jeremy joked, but his eyes were concerned.
“If you’ve got something to say, just say it. I’m not in the mood to banter,” I grumbled, putting my head in my hands.
Would driving by Meg’s mom’s house be considered stalking? I just wanted to see if she was around. I was terrified she’d pack up her stuff and head back to New York without my ever knowing.
Maybe I should just call June. She’d talk to me. She loved me. Or I could ask my mom...no. I couldn’t do that. I didn’t want to explain to her why the thought of Meg leaving threw me into a panic.
If I felt that way, I should just call her.
But I knew from experience, the more I pushed Meg, the farther she’d run. I didn’t want her to run so far that I couldn’t find her.
“Adam.”
I hadn’t realized Jeremy was speaking. He snapped his fingers in front of my face.
“What?” I barked.
Jeremy sat down in the chair across from my desk and for once didn’t prop his feet up like he owned the place. Jeremy’s propensity to stake ownership of anything and everything was one of his more obnoxious qualities. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “What’s up Ducate? You’ve been walking around here like you’ve got a thundercloud over your head for days. No one can say anything to you without you biting their damn head off. You yelled at Lena yesterday for bringing you the wrong sandwich at lunch. That wasn’t cool, man. You can be a dick to me or Robert but lay off your sister.”
“Excuse me?” I said, taken aback. I wasn’t used to Jeremy correcting my behavior. Typically that was my job. And since when was he Lena’s protector?
“You heard me. You can be a dick but save it for the courtroom.” Jeremy sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “Let me guess; your fantastic mood has to do with either your she-bitch ex or the hot artist you’ve been boning for the past month.”
I guess Meg and I weren’t as subtle as we thought. “Both,” I muttered, not bothering to deny the last part.
Jeremy looked pleased. “Figured as much. I’m a fucking ace at reading people. Don’t forget it was me that called the twist at the end of The Usual Suspects in the first five minutes.”
“Jesus, you’re still harping about that? The movie is over twenty years old. Give it up already.” I didn’t say it with any malice, though.
Lena popped her head in. She seemed as if she were bracing herself. Had I been that much an asshole lately? I already knew the answer. “Your one o’clock is here.” She glanced at Jeremy, and I swore they shared an unspoken communication. When did that start happening? It seemed I had missed a lot of meetings. “Everything okay in here?”
“All good. Isn’t that right, Ducate?” Jeremy asked, getting to his feet.
I shrugged, opening my laptop again.
Jeremy flashed me a hard smile. “Either do something about your predicament or get over it. But don’t go around moping like a bitch. It doesn’t suit the Adam Ducate badass image.”
“Yeah, yeah, now get the fuck out of here and let me do my job.” I shooed my partner out of my office, but I appreciated his advice, no matter how badly given.