Taking Turns (Turning #1)(14)

I didn’t know what to say.

I liked her then. Hell, I’ve liked her this whole damn time. But love… love wasn’t part of the game. We can’t play the game if we fall in love, and I like the game. I was picturing Bric and Smith hearing about her confession. Picturing what they’d say. Picturing them throwing her out. Dissolving the contract. And maybe that’s what she wanted? Why she said it.

But it wasn’t what I wanted.

I love her, I do. I realize it now. But I love her with them, too. It’s a weird arrangement but it works for us. It was working for us.

Wasn’t it?

I had no idea Smith wasn’t even coming to see her on his nights. If he wasn’t with her, then what the f*ck did she do every weekend?

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Bric says.

“I don’t f*cking care,” I say back. We’re sitting in the White Room having breakfast. There are a ton of people here, like always. All the Club members who work downtown make it a habit to have breakfast here. But we have a table in the far corner, up on a riser so we have a good view of everyone. “I want to know how they made that arrangement. I think, at the very least, we can all agree that there was an arrangement.”

“Yeah.” Smith sighs. He’s looking out at all the people in the restaurant, absently holding his cup of coffee in both hands, like he’s trying to warm them up. “It was definitely arranged.”

“Did she say anything?” I ask him, leaning forward over the table. I need information. I am desperate for more information.

“No,” Smith says. “But…”

Both Bric and I wait him out for several seconds, but I can’t control myself. “But what?” I snap. Smith looks at me and smiles. It’s a small smile. A sad smile. Like he feels sorry for me. “What?” I demand again.

“I went to her work this morning.”

“You what?” Bric growls. “Why the f*ck did you do that?”

“I just wanted to help.” Smith is looking at me now. “I was trying to get you answers.”

“Did you?” I prod.

He shakes his head. “It didn’t go well. Was Rochelle angry with you, Quin? Did you guys… fight?”

“Fight?” I ask, almost bewildered. “No. We don’t f*cking fight. Do you fight with her?”

“No,” Smith says. “You know how I am.”

Yeah, I know exactly how he is. Doesn’t give enough f*cks about anyone to bother fighting with them. “Did you?” I ask Bric.

“No,” Bric says. “We went out a few weeks ago. To a party. She was fine, I guess. Didn’t talk much, that was about the only thing I noticed. Didn’t eat much either. Just picked at her food. Which is a little strange.”

We all smile at that. Rochelle is willowy thin, but she will out-eat any of us when it comes to food. Sometimes she’s vegan. She’s gone through a few of those phases. But she can scarf a cheeseburger like a champ when she’s not shunning meat. She doesn’t take anything too seriously. She goes with the flow. That’s why we all liked her so much.

Or we did. Like her so much. At one time.

“Why weren’t you going to see her?” I ask Smith.

He shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. “I was done, I guess.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Bric asks.

Smith looks at me now. “Because Quin likes her a lot.” He switches to Bric. “And you like her well enough. So why rock the boat?”

“But what was she doing every weekend?” Bric pushes. “Did you ever ask her?”

“I told you,” he says. “I hadn’t seen her for months. I have no idea what she was doing.”

“Well, that’s irresponsible,” Bric says, anger coming through in his tone. “We trusted you to take care of her on the weekends.”

“Yeah, so you two could go downstairs and have your fun. If you gave a f*ck what she was doing, then why didn’t you ask her?”

“Because we thought you were with her, Smith,” Bric says. “She could be in trouble. She could’ve gotten herself in trouble.”

“Don’t start with me,” Smith says. “She’s had a lot of time to herself this past year. And you know what? Maybe the two of you should’ve asked her what was up when she asked for those two-week sabbaticals last summer. One week with us, then two weeks without? What the f*ck kind of arrangement is that? That was never part of the game before.”

“She wanted space,” Bric says.

“Yeah,” Smith answers. “Space. Like stay-the-f*ck-away-from-me space.”

“No,” I say. “No, she didn’t want me to stay away. We had a lot of fun last summer.”

“You can tell yourself that all you want, Quin. But the fact is, she left you.”

“Smith,” Bric warns. “She didn’t leave him. She left us.”

But Smith is undeterred. He stands up, gets his wallet out, throws some money down on the table and looks me dead in the eyes. “She left you, brother. I left her a long time ago. And Bric was just using her as a convenient date to corporate functions. She left you. And the sooner you come to terms with that, the easier it will be to move on.”