Chapter 17
I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING: What the f*ck?
If I realized that I’m in love with Kate, and she’s obviously infatuated with me—how does she end up back with Billy Why-Don’t-You-Just-Die-Already Warren?
Excellent question. We’re almost there. But first: a science lesson. What do you know about frogs?
Yes. I said frogs.
Did you know that if you put a frog in boiling water, he’ll jump out? But, if you put one in cold water and heat it slowly, he’ll stay in. And boil to death. He won’t even try to get out. He won’t even know he’s dying. Until it’s too late.
Men are a lot like frogs.
Was I freaked out by my little epiphany? Of course I was. It was huge. Life-changing. No more strange p-ssy. No more stories for the guys. No more Saturday nights. But none of that mattered anymore. Honestly.
Because it was too late. I was already boiling—for Kate.
That whole night I watched her sleep. And made plans…for us. The things we’d do together, the places we’d go—tomorrow and next weekend and next year. I practiced what I would say, how I would tell her my feelings. I imagined her reaction and how she would confess she felt the same way. It was like a movie, some horrible chick flick that I would never go see. The dashing playboy meets the take-no-prisoners girl of his dreams, and she snags his heart forever.
I should have known then that it was too good to be true. The best things usually are: Santa Claus, the male G-spot, heaven—the list is endless.
You’ll see.
We’re walking down Fifth Avenue. Instead of wasting precious time driving across town to Kate’s apartment, we stopped at Saks on the way to work, where I bought Kate a new navy Chanel suit. Can’t have her doing the Walk of Shame into the office, now can I? When she was trying on clothes for me, I swear, I felt just like Richard f*cking Gere in Pretty Woman. Kate even bought me a tie.
See?
Then she insisted on stopping by the lingerie department to replace the panties I’d so erotically destroyed. I put up a good fight over that one, but I lost. You ladies ought to know—going commando? That’s sexier than leather and lace and whips and chains all put together.
We stop by Starbucks and grab some much-needed caffeine. As we walk back outside, I pull Kate close. I cup her cheek and kiss her. She tastes like coffee—light and sweet. She pushes my hair back out of my eyes and smiles.
I’ll never get tired of looking at her. Or kissing her. p-ssy whipped, thy name is Drew. Yeah I know. It’s okay. I don’t mind. ’Cause if this is the Dark Side? Sign me up. Seriously. Don’t be surprised if I start skipping down the street singing, “Zip-a-Dee-f*cking-Doo-Dah.” I’m that happy.
Kate and I turn the corner. Holding hands and smiling at each other like two idiots who popped one too many antidepressants. Nauseating, isn’t it?
We need to stop here for just a minute. You should look at us. How we are right here, right now—hand in hand. You should remember this moment. I do.
We were…perfect.
Then we get to our building. I open the door for Kate and walk in behind her.
And the first thing I see are daisies. Large white daisies with cheerful yellow centers. Some in vases on the security desk, others in bunches tied with ribbon. Some are scattered singly all over the floor, random petals here and there. In the middle of the lobby is a circle of even more daisies. In the center of that circle, is Billy Warren. And he’s got his guitar.
F*ck. Me.
No, that doesn’t quite cover it.
F*ck me with a chainsaw.
Yeah—that’s about right.
You ever see a singing a*shole? Here’s your chance:
I was so blind I didn’t know
How much it would hurt to let you go
I want to heal us, want to mend
Come back, come back to me again
If I didn’t hate him so much—and the jackal who spawned him—I’d have to admit he’s not half bad. I watch Kate closely. Every emotion that crosses her face, each feeling that dances in her eyes.
You know when you have a stomach virus? And you lay around all day with a bucket at your side because you feel like you’re going to puke at any second? But then there’s that moment—when you know it’s coming. You break out in that cold, full-body sweat. Your head pounds, and you feel your throat expand to make room for the bile that’s charging up from your stomach.
That’s me. Right now.
I actually put my coffee down and look around for the nearest garbage can just to be sure I’ll make it there in time.
And I need to say I’m sorry
For all the pain I caused
Please give your heart back to me
I’ll keep it safe for eternity
We belong together
We’ve always known it’s true
There will never be another
My soul cries out for you.
Any other time, any other girl, I would bury Warren. Without even trying. He can’t hold a candle to me. I’m a goddamn Porsche; he’s a frigging pickup truck that can’t pass inspection.
But this is Kate. They have a history, a decade’s worth. And that, kiddies, makes him some major-league competition.
In the dark of night, it’s your name I call
I can’t believe I almost lost it all
One more chance, one breath, one try
No more reasons to say goodbye
I want to pick Kate up, caveman style, and carry her out of here. I want to lock her in my apartment where he can’t see her. Can’t touch her. Can’t touch us. The whole time I stare at her, but she doesn’t turn to look at me.
Not one f*cking time.
And I need to say I’m sorry
For all the pain I caused
Please give your heart back to me
I’ll keep it safe for eternity
We belong together
We’ve always known it’s true
There will never be another
My soul cries out for you
Why didn’t I learn to play an instrument? When I was nine, my mother wanted me to play the trumpet. After two lessons, the tutor quit ’cause I let the dog piss on his mouthpiece.
Why the hell didn’t I listen to my mother?
You are my beginning, you’ll be my end
More than lovers, more than friends
I want you, I want you
He can’t have her. Go ahead and want all day long, douchebag. Sing from the motherf*cking rooftops. Play until your fingers fall off. It’s too little, too late. She’s already mine. Kate isn’t the type to have sex with just anyone. And she f*cked me all weekend like the world was ending. That has to count for something.
Doesn’t it?
And I need to say I’m sorry
For all the pain I caused
Please give your heart back to me
I’ll keep it safe for eternity
For eternity
You and me
The small crowd that’s gathered in the lobby applauds. Dickhead puts his guitar down and walks up to Kate.
If he touches her, I will break his f*cking hand. I swear to God.
He doesn’t acknowledge me at all. He’s focused only on Kate. “I’ve been calling you since Friday night…and I stopped by the apartment a few times this weekend, but you were out.”
That’s right. She wasn’t home. She was busy. Now ask her what she was doing.
Who she was doing.
“I know this is work…but do you think we could go somewhere? To talk? Maybe your office?”
Say no.
Say no.
Say no, say no, say no, say no, say no, say no, say no, say no…
“Okay.”
Shit.
As she starts to walk away, I grab Kate’s arm. “I need to talk to you.”
Her eyes question me. “I’ll just be a—”
“There’s something I have to tell you. Now. It’s important.” I know I sound desperate, but I really don’t give a damn.
She puts her hand over mine, the one still clasping her arm. She’s calm—condescending, like she’s talking to a child. “All right, Drew. Let me talk to Billy first and I’ll meet you in your office, okay?”
I want to stomp my foot like a two-year-old. No. It’s so not f*cking okay. She needs to know where I stand. I have to stake my claim. Throw my hat in the ring. Get my car in the goddamn race.
But I drop my hand anyway. “Fine. You two have a nice chat.”
And I make sure I walk away first.
I stride toward my office. But I can’t help but stop at Erin’s desk when they walk by. As Kate turns to close her office door, our eyes meet. And she smiles at me. And for the first time in my life, I don’t know what it means.
Is she reassuring me that nothing’s changed? That nothing will? Is she saying thank you for bringing that f*ck nut crawling back to her? I just don’t know.
And it’s driving me crazy.
I clench my jaw and stalk toward my own desk, slamming the door behind me. And then I pace. Like a soon-to-be father outside the delivery room, waiting to see if everything that means anything to him will come out unscathed.
I should have told her. Last night. When I had the chance. I should have explained how much she means to me. What I feel for her. I thought I had time. I figured I’d ease into it, slowly work up to it.
Stupid.
Why didn’t I just f*cking tell her?
Goddamn it.
Maybe she already knows. I mean, I brought her to my apartment, I cuddled with her. I worshiped her. I f*cked her without a rubber—three times. She’s got to know.
Erin quietly enters the room. I must look like a disaster, because her face is soft with sympathy. “So, Kate and Billy are talking, huh?”
I snort. “Am I that obvious?”
She opens her mouth, probably to tell me yes, but closes it and starts again. “No. I just know you, Drew.”
I nod.
“You want me to take a walk? See what I can see…or hear?”
“You think that’ll work?”
She smiles. “The CIA would be lucky to have me.”
I nod again. “Okay. Yeah. Go do that, Erin. See what’s going on.”
She walks out. And I go back to wearing a hole in the rug. And pushing my hand through my hair until it sticks up like I’ve been struck by lightning.
A few minutes later, Erin comes back. “The door’s closed, so I couldn’t hear anything, but I peeked through the glass. They’re sitting in front of her desk, facing each other. He’s got his head in his hands, and she’s listening to him talk. Her hand is on his knee.”
Okay. He’s pouring his heart out. And she’s being sympathetic. I can live with that. Because then she’s going to crush him, isn’t she? She’s going to tell him to screw off. That she’s moved on—found someone better. Right?
Right?
Christ, just f*cking agree with me.
“So…what should I do?”
Erin shrugs. “All you can do is wait. And see what she says when they’re done.”
I’ve never been good at waiting. No matter how hard my parents tried, I could never wait until Christmas morning to find out what I got. I was like a mini-Indiana Jones—searching and digging until I found every single gift.
Patience may be a virtue, but it’s not one of mine.
Erin stops at the door. “I hope it works out, Drew.”
“Thanks, Erin.”
And then she leaves. And I wait. And think. I think about the look on Kate’s face when she was crying at her desk. I think about the panic she was in when she saw Warren at the bar.
Was that all I was to Kate? A distraction? A means to my own end?
I start pacing again. And praying. To a God I haven’t spoken to since I was ten years old. But I talk to him now. I promise and I swear. I barter and beg—fervently.
For Kate to choose me.
The longest ninety minutes of my life later, Erin’s voice hisses out of the intercom on my desk.
“Incoming! Incoming! Kate, nine o’clock.”
I dive across my desk, knocking pens and paperclips to the floor. I push my chair up, smooth my hair down, and shuffle some papers around so it looks like I’ve been working. Then I take a deep breath. Pull it together.
It’s game time.
Kate opens the door and walks in.
She looks…normal. Completely herself. No guilt. No anxiety. Not a care in the world.
She stands in front of my desk. “Hi.”
“Hey.” I force myself to smile casually. Even though my heart’s pounding in my chest. Kind of like a dog’s would—just before he’s put down.
I should make small talk so I don’t look too eager—too interested. But I just can’t manage it. “So…how’d things go with Billy?”
She smiles softly. “We talked. We said some things that I think we both needed to hear. And now we’re good. Really good, actually.”
God. Can you see the knife sticking out of my chest? Yeah—the one she just twisted. They talked—they’re good—really good. She took him back.
F*ck.
“That’s great, Kate. Mission accomplished, then, huh?” I should have been an actor. I deserve a goddamn Academy Award after this.
Her brow wrinkles. “Mission?”
My cell phone rings, saving me from this nightmare of a conversation.
“Hello?” It’s Steven. But Kate doesn’t know that. I force my voice to sound strong. Energized. “Hey, Stacey. Yeah, baby, I’m glad you called.”
Always score first. Remember?
“Sorry I missed you on Saturday. What was I doing? Nothing important—a little project of mine. Something I’ve been trying to get done for a while. Yeah, I’m finished with it now. Turned out it wasn’t as good as I thought it’d be.”
Yes, my words are calculated. Yes, I hope they hurt her. What did you expect me to say? This is me you’re talking to here. Did you really think I’d sit back like a chump while Kate gave me the brush-off?
No f*cking way.
I ignore Steven’s confusion on the other line and compel my lungs to laugh. “Tonight? Sure I’d love to see you. Right, I’ll bring the taxi.”
Why are you looking at me like I’m the bastard? I gave Kate everything I have, everything I’m capable of. And she kicked me in the f*cking teeth with it. I opened up my soul to her—and I know how pussified that sounds. But it’s true. So don’t look at me like I’m the bad guy, because—for once—I’m not.
I loved her. God, I f*cking love her. And right now, it’s killing me. I feel like one of those patients on ER who get their chests cracked open with a freaking rib spreader.
With the phone still on my ear, I finally look up at Kate. And for a second, I can’t draw a breath. I thought she’d be pissed, maybe disappointed that I tossed her to the curb first. But that’s not how she looks.
Have you ever seen someone get hit?
I have. Matthew, in our younger years. And Jack, on occasion, hasn’t moved fast enough after coming on too strong to the wrong woman. When they got smacked—there was this expression. It only lasted a few seconds. Their whole face just went white…and blank. I guess it’s shock, like they can’t believe what just happened actually happened to them.
That’s what Kate looks like.
Like I slapped her across the face.
You think I should feel guilty about that? You want me to be sorry? Well too f*cking bad. I can’t. I won’t. She made her decision. She made her choice.
Now she can choke on it.
I cover the mouthpiece of the phone. “Sorry, Kate, I have to take this. I’ll see you at lunch, okay?”
She blinks twice. Then turns and walks out of my office without a word.