I’d always known it would happen, but it felt a thousand times worse than I’d imagined.
I was never going to get another text from Bay. I was never going to make her forehead crinkle with my words, or hear her laugh in that surprised way she had when she tried and failed to suppress it, never going to hear her quiet intake of breath when she realized we were about to kiss, and never going to hear her sleepily say G’night, Charlie on the other end of the phone.
A thousand tiny nothing moments that were collectively every fucking thing I’d ever wanted.
And I’d thrown it all away.
That old adage about it being better to have loved and lost was bullshit, in my opinion, because in no fucking way was it better to have and lose. Having and losing felt like slow, painful torture, and it was killing me.
God, how had I fucked it up so badly?
It had absolutely been my intention to blow her off and stop any romantic emotions, but I hadn’t meant to hurt her, even though I knew that made zero fucking sense. I’d wanted distance to figure everything out, but I hadn’t meant to make her feel like she wasn’t important to me.
Fuck, I definitely hadn’t meant for her to think that she and I were just the result of a fucking frat-boy moronic bet.
Yet here we were.
My phone buzzed in my hand, and my pulse skyrocketed, but disappointment pressed even harder on my solar plexus when I realized that it wasn’t Bailey or Nekesa.
It was Becca. What’s up?
I pictured Becca’s face, but that familiar rush of unchecked emotions didn’t come. I watched conversation bubbles appear, but I felt nothing.
Nothing but disappointment that it wasn’t her.
Bec: Just got back from the movies. We saw the new Jurassic flick and it sucked.
She probably went with Kyle, yet I still felt nothing as I pictured them at the theater.
Was that how it worked? You had to get your heart destroyed again in order to get over the first person who destroyed your heart?
Fucking relationships.
I reached for the TUMS next to my bed and texted: Just sitting in my room, being depressed because I ruined everything with Bailey.
Becca: Oh my God I KNEW you were super into her; I told Kyle that after the party! Tell me everything. Maybe I can help.
I lay back on my bed and stared at the ceiling, because what the fuck was this?
Becca had crushed my heart and moved on, yet she was… still here.
What the fuck was going on?
I texted: Why would you do that?
Becca: Um, because you’re my friend…? DUH.
Was I her friend? Were Becca and I friends?
That was probably nice, and it should’ve felt like a full-circle moment, right? This is when Charlie Sampson learns he’s been wrong all along.
But it didn’t matter.
Because who the fuck would I share that little gem with? Bailey was the only one who’d appreciate it, the only one I would want to tell, and I’d ruined everything with her because I was an idiot.
Bailey had been worth the risk, and I’d missed that.
And now I missed her so much, it felt a little bit like I was having a heart attack.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE Bailey
Fall formal was the day after we officially moved into Scott’s house. Lucy, his daughter (whom I’d met the week before and who didn’t seem awful), was at her mom’s that weekend, so I was able to put off the stepsister bonding a little longer.
I was grabbing a soda out of the fridge when Scott came in through the back door. The cool autumn breeze snaked in around him. “Hey,” I said.
He smiled and closed the door behind him before taking off his coat and putting it on the back of a kitchen chair. “Hey, yourself.”
I shut the refrigerator door. It felt surreal that this was the new normal.
“I’m starving,” he said, opening the pantry and pulling out a bag of corn chips. “If there’s a God, there will be bean dip in the fridge.”
“Well, then, praise Jesus, because it’s on the top shelf,” I replied, reopening the fridge to grab it and toss it toward him.
He gave me a grin as he caught the container. “Smart-ass.”
“No, I’m serious,” I murmured distractedly. “I feel God in this Chili’s tonight.”
“Okay.” He laughed. “Quoting The Office is only going to make me like you more, Bailey, so knock it off.”
I blinked in shock, not sure of what he meant by that.
“Oh, come on,” he said, tilting his head a little. “I know this isn’t what you wanted.”
“What?” I asked, fully aware of what he was getting at.
He gave me a knowing smile and dropped into a kitchen chair. “I mean, it’s not what my daughter wanted either.”
“Scott, I don’t—”
“I just love your mom—that’s it.” He shrugged, and his smile slipped just a little as he opened the bag of chips. “I love her and want a life with her. I don’t want to hurt you—or anyone—and I don’t want to change your life.”
He made it sound so simple, so easy. I didn’t know what to say, so I took a sip of soda and made a noise of understanding in my throat, like a hummed version of I know.
“I don’t expect you to be into this whole combined-family thing from the get-go, but I hope you’ll talk about it.” He took the lid off the dip and laid it on the table. “If there are things you hate, I want to know. And if there are things you love, I want to know that, too.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding like we were on the same page, when I just wanted to get out of the kitchen. He was being nice, but I wasn’t ready to talk about the reality of the situation, especially not with him. I clutched my soda and nodded again. “Sounds good.”
Disappointment crossed his features, making his smile disappear, and I headed for the exit.
I was in the doorway when he said, “My parents got divorced when I was fourteen, Bailey.”
That made me stop and look back.
“My mom started seeing a guy a year after they split up, and we moved into his house a few months later,” he said, staring into space as if watching a memory being played back. His face was relaxed, like the story didn’t hurt him anymore. “I can still remember the way I felt in his house. Like everything was wrong and smelled weird and like I was forced to live with strangers in a house that didn’t feel like home.”
“Really?” I said, turning around, surprised by his words and the fact that he was sharing that memory with me.
“Oh yeah,” he said, nodding as he dipped a chip. “I hated it so damn much. Which, honestly, is why I waited so long to propose to your mom. I don’t want that for you.”
“Waited so long?” I said, trying to sound teasing when I added, “What’s it been—like three months?”
“Uh,” he said, tilting his head like he wasn’t sure what to say. “Well, here’s the thing.”
I pulled out the other chair and sat down at the table, curious. “Yes…?”
He made a little noise, his head still tilted like he was considering whether or not he should spit it out. “The thing is, I started seeing your mom last year.”