Ladies Man (Manwhore #4)(6)
And then I think of Tahoe. God. Sexy, beastly Tahoe. I really hope I don’t have to see him again, at least not until Rachel and Saint return from their honeymoon, which Rachel said in a short text they were extending for two weeks.
I climb off the sofa and make my way to the kitchen, turning on my cell phone. I see I have a message from Wynn and I click Play.
“So, the guy you brought home? Emmett knows him. How did that go? Tell me! Also, I have to talk to you. Call me, okay?”
I open the fridge to pull out my fresh coffee beans, grind them, and dial Wynn’s number while I wait for my coffee to brew. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Gina. Emmett asked me to move in.”
I freeze while pulling out my artist mug. I set it down on the counter, softly. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you know I had that pregnancy scare at Rachel and Saint’s wedding. And it got me thinking about, well, how serious this is. Emmett has been doing some thinking too because…ah! He wants me to move in!” she squeals.
What about me? I want to ask. But I cannot be that selfish. I mean, yes I can, but Wynn is my friend. Wynn has been wanting to find The One her entire life. I think she always imagined she’d be the first of us three to get married, and instead it was Rachel, who’d wanted nothing but a solid career. Why should Wynn be stuck with the young version of Old Maid who will forever be single? Why would she say no to her chef boyfriend because of me? No way.
But I say, suddenly afraid of Emmett hurting Wynn the way Paul hurt me, “Are you sure it’s the right step, Wynn? You’ve been dating for…what?”
“A year! But Gina, I feel awful about not coming through for you after I told you I’d absolutely move in. I mean…what if you let me help with rent? Now that I’ll be with Emmett, I won’t be paying my own rent anymore…”
“Rotund no, Wynn.”
“Rachel made me promise I’d move in with you. She won’t be happy when she finds out. She’ll want to pay your rent too.”
“Nobody is paying my rent, okay? Except the person living here, which is me, alright!” I say.
But I stand there with my cell phone against my ear and stare at my lovely apartment, which I won’t be able to afford anymore. “It’ll be alright,” I tell her, and because I’m too exhausted to deal with the worry of probably having to find a new place, I tell her I’ll see her during the week and hang up.
I hear the sound of a door cracking open, and I turn to see the guy I brought home—Trent—standing fully dressed and ready to go. I smile at him, one of my regretful smiles, then pull out another coffee cup and a bottle of Advil. I bring it all to the table and push the Advil and the extra cup of coffee to the empty seat across from mine.
“God, thanks,” he says, relieved. He pops open the Advil. “How bad was I?”
“You were that drunk?” I laugh. “Don’t worry. Nothing happened.”
“Well f*ck, that bad, huh?”
“It was completely my fault. Cold feet after a long bout of…abstinence.”
“Ahh.” He sips his coffee. “I stole the invite to last night’s party. I’d never be invited to those places.”
“You did?” I laugh.
“How were you invited? Wait, I know. You’re incredibly hot.”
“Hahaha. Um, nope. Not half as hot as the other girls there. I just know the guy. Our best friends just married, so…”
“Wow, you’ve got friends in high places.”
I end up chatting amicably with Trent. I find out that he does business with Emmett—he supplies some of the restaurant’s produce—and I decide with a bit of regret that he’s sweet and honest, and it’s a shame that last night hadn’t gone very far. Why can’t you get your feelings where you want them? Why do I sit here and talk to Trent, all the while feeling the ache in my chest after Tahoe denied me?
*
I have to work at the department store that afternoon. Sundays aren’t my rest days, usually Mondays or Tuesdays are, when sales are slower. It still boggles my mind how expensive everything we sell is. We cater to the rich of Chicago. The store is pristine and never really packed unless we have our yearly sale, which draws everyone in, if only to peek at our perfect holiday window displays and array of fashionable items. Black Friday and Christmas sales are still a month or two away and there are only so many people I can sell cosmetics to. I’m worrying about my living situation and wonder if I should a) put an ad on Craigslist for a roommate, or b) move.
The thought of moving doesn’t thrill me, but the thought of having a strange roommate thrills me even less. I’m twenty-three, going on twenty-four, and I’m too old to live with a roommate.
My boss, Martha, calls me over. “Gina, let’s organize this, I don’t like seeing Pink Ecstasy on the Orange Flame holder.”
Martha always makes sure the store is impeccable. I like working here because being with beautiful people, dressed well, makes me happy. Nobody is crying inside this store. Nobody is struggling inside this store. Everyone is blessed and leaves with huge smiles on their faces, and leaves us with one too. Everyone says thank you and that’s that. I even have some regulars. So when I get a visit from Mrs. Darynda Kessler, telling me she has no time for me to do her makeup but she wishes I were available later, just before her big event, I seize the opportunity to expand my services.