Do You Take This Man (64)

Sarah: Do you . . . want to know anything about us? Do you want to see some photos or hear updates?



On instinct, I bit the inside of my cheek and set my jaw. I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me. What kind of person would ask that?


Lear: No.


Sarah: I thought it might be good closure.

Lear: It wouldn’t. Do you need anything else?


Sarah: I won’t keep you. I’m sorry, though, Lear. I need to say it again. I’m sorry, and I do still care about you.



The lack of sleep hit me like a pile of bricks and my body wanted to sag and brace, a juxtaposition that made me want to climb out of my skin. Instead I stood quietly and strode toward the front door, needing fresh air and space immediately.


Sarah: And I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself.



I breathed in the cool evening air with a slight breeze that felt good against my face after the energy and heat of the reception and the stress rising from Sarah’s texts. Her apologies echoed in my head, and I once again considered poking her where it would hurt, letting her believe she’d broken me, giving her more guilt to pile on, but that was childish. I didn’t want to hurt her; I didn’t want to care about how she felt. Yet I was there pacing like a caged animal because she still made me feel like this, and I hated that she had any kind of power over me.

My phone buzzed in my hand and I was one breath from throwing the damn thing to the ground. This time it was RJ, though.


RJ: Remind me to never text you so late. I was a zombie today.



RJ and Sarah texting me at the same time made me pause my pacing. Sarah was more than two thousand miles away and was still holding part of my heart. RJ was in Chicago and wanted nothing to do with my heart, and maybe that was better. I needed to get myself in check and stop acting like a lovesick teenager around RJ. It was sex and work and nothing more, and I wasn’t going to give up more of myself than that.


Sarah: Are you still there?

Lear: No.



I shoved my phone in my pocket and cracked my neck again, really not wanting to walk back into a wedding. With my hand on the door handle, I resolved to not answer RJ right away, to leave her text on read and make sure this thing between us stayed casual. That would be safe, which was exactly what I needed.





Chapter 35


    RJ



I WAS STRETCHED out on the sectional in Britta and Wes’s living room. Her feet met mine, both of us exhausted after the bridal shower. Between Britta’s sister keeping everything moving like a highly choreographed dance montage and her mom bursting into tears constantly, we were exhausted. Kat had gone home, and the two of us lounged, surrounded by gift bags and leftover centerpieces.

“Red wine for RJ,” Wes said, handing me a glass. He’d been saved from the headaches of the day, and Britta said he and his best friend, Cord, had played video games all afternoon. “And water for you, Bubs,” he said, handing Britta a tall glass. He dipped his head to steal a kiss, and with anyone else I would have stifled a gag, but I just sipped my wine and smiled at their naked affection.

Wes sat on the edge of the couch. “How much space do you two need to catch up? Should I leave the room, the apartment, or clear the building?”

“You can stay,” I said. “You’re not so bad.” I liked Wes. More importantly, I liked Wes for my best friend.

“High praise, RJ.”

I raised my glass to him. “You know it is.”

“I actually have some studying to do.” He stood, stretching, and I didn’t miss how Britta still openly stared at her fiancé’s body. Who could blame her? Not only was he an aspiring teacher after leaving his role as CEO of a successful company, but he worked out . . . a lot. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be in the bedroom.”

“You are not subtle,” I said, pulling Britta’s attention back as Wes walked down the hall.

“What?”

“You were practically drooling at your fiancé’s ass.”

“It’s a nice ass.” She shrugged, sipping her water. “He’d do the same to me.”

I smiled, both at her response and at how true it was. Those two acted like the other was a first crush, even after a year together. I loved that he needed no convincing to know my girl was a queen, and he never had. “You’re right. He would.” I glanced at my phone, sitting faceup next to me on the back of the couch. I’d texted Lear a few hours earlier, casually. Never mind that I’d gone back and forth in my head on what to say to sound so casual. What I’d sent was my fourth draft, but he didn’t need to know that.

I knew he had a wedding, but it still surprised me he hadn’t replied. There were always breaks here and there, unless all hell had broken loose. I stretched to wake up my phone. Nothing.

I motioned to Britta’s water glass. “Is there something you need to tell me? Do I need to prepare for a baby shower?”

Britta snorted, almost spraying that same water all over me. “Are you kidding me? Between FitMi and Wes being in school, we barely have time for each other, let alone a kid.”

“Yeah? It’s been rough?”

I will not look at my phone. I will not look at my phone.