The CEO's Baby (Thirsty Thursday Book 2) Page 6

  But still. Even though I said I wasn’t going to let emotions get involved, they have. I should have known better. And Shiree should have too, for that matter. She’s my best friend. She knows me better than I know myself sometimes. And I get that she was distracted with her brand-new marriage, but her advice was absolute shit and I’m no better off. In fact, I think I’m worse off. Because Roger fucked me over and I’ve now fucked myself over.

  Twice, really. I need to stop blaming Roger for what he did and start taking responsibility for not having seen the signs. For not having used my words and asked. For having just assumed and read into things too much. And I could do the same thing right now. I could take responsibility for the choices I’ve made. For having decided to go against my better judgment and sleep with a man incapable of being in a committed relationship. For having gotten emotions tangled up when I told myself I wouldn't do that.

  He turns away from me and rinses himself off. “Okay if I use this?” he asks, pointing to my fruity-smelling bath wash.

  I say, “Sure,” and step out of the shower. I grab my towel and wrap it around my body, trying to put the last hour of my life behind me. But I can still feel him inside me. I can still feel the way he stretches me out. The way he pulses deep in my core. I can only hope that those feelings go away soon.

  I stand there until he turns the water off. When he peeks his head out of the curtain and asks for a towel, I remove one from the rack and hand it to him. But then I leave the bathroom and let him dry off on his own. Back in my room, I put clean clothes on—even though I just did this before he came over. If I’m going to work through all of these tangled emotions, I need full separation. So I also close and lock my bedroom door. This ends now.

  When I hear him walk out of the bathroom door, I go to mine to listen more carefully. It sounds like he approaches my bedroom door, stops for a few moments, and then turns around. His footsteps echo down the hall as he walks away, toward the front door of my apartment, and leaves. The door opens and closes, which puts the kibosh on this whole thing.

  What further proof do I need that he doesn’t want to be with me? What else does he have to hand-deliver to me that I’m just another notch in his bedpost? What more could he do to show me that he’s not interested in anything more than just having sex, which is what I plainly told him we were doing? The answer is nothing. I need no further proof. I get the hint now, and I was silly to have thought I could do this.

  I needed to get groceries before, so I shake myself out of this funk and decide to do that. But my car is still at Shiree’s. So I head out to my front room, take my phone out of my purse, and bring that rideshare app up yet again. Then I use it once and for all.

  ~~~

  I have my car. I have groceries. But, by Monday morning, I still don’t have a handle on my head. Or my heart. This is how it has to be though. I keep telling myself that Blake is not the type to settle down. And I remind myself that he just got his new position at work. It will be a transition, more responsibility, that kind of thing. So he has a lot on his plate. That’s why he hasn’t called.

  It’s not that he won’t call. Or that he hasn’t wanted to. He’s just too busy.

  Yeah, right. This goes two ways, and I could have called, but he left without saying goodbye after that intense shower sex. Left without saying anything, actually. Even though I got the hint on Saturday, it hasn’t sunk in or something. And I don’t know what to do to make it fully settle in my bones that that was the end of the road for us. Our story doesn’t have a happy ending because it was hardly a story to begin with.

  I’m getting into my truck to start making the delivery rounds when Shiree catches up with me.

  “Hey!” she says, smiling and waving at me.

  “What are you going here?” I ask, incredulous. “Shouldn’t you be on a honeymoon? Or at least at home with your new husband—who, might I add, has more than enough money for you to stop delivering people’s packages?”

  “I know, I know.” She waves a dismissive hand, but she’s still smiling. “We’re gonna wait until next month. Plan something fun. But nothing too crazy. That’s not us.”

  I grin back at her. My best friend is the kindest, sweetest person I know. I’m so glad she’s happy, but I’m also glad she’s not going to change because she has a ton of money now. That isn’t her anyway. But the look in her eye scares me a little. If she’s about to ask me what I think she’s about to ask, I should be scared. How am I supposed to tell her that I took her advice with Blake, the man who tried to keep her and Chaz apart?

  “But that’s not what I want to talk to you about. How did this weekend go? Did you listen to me? There were a ton of good-looking, single men at the party on Friday.” She waggles her eyebrows as she leans an elbow against my truck.

  I swallow hard and look away. “Uh, well…”

  Shiree gasps and stands up straight. “You did! Who was it?”

  Licking my lips, I shake my head. “I’m still processing. Trying to figure out how I feel about it. I don’t think it’s something I’ll do again.”

  “Still!” she exclaims. Then she starts to back away from my truck. “You did it. I’m proud of you. You’re one step closer to finally getting through what happened before.” She points at me. “And that’s exactly what you need.”

  I give her a weak smile. “Getting there.”

  She gives me a thumbs-up and another wave. Then she stops. “Oh hey. We’re still on for Thursday, yeah?”

  “Of course,” I tell her. “My favorite day of the week.” I smile for real this time.

  She does too, and then she’s off. I gulp, feeling like I’ve betrayed my best friend. Blake and Chaz are close, and Chaz wouldn’t have given Blake his company if he didn’t trust him. And I’d like to believe that I wouldn’t have slept with him—multiple times—if he weren’t a good guy deep down. But I’m not known for being the best judge of character, so I don’t trust myself. I should just ask her how everything with Blake and Chaz is, if they mended fences or whatever.

  Or, my stupid brain says, you could ask him yourself. You have his phone number stored in your phone under Butthead.

  I roll my eyes at myself. This is utterly ridiculous. And the only way to get over it is to not allow it to take up space in my brain anymore. So I start my truck and get on with my day.

  ***

  Blake

  I can’t get shit done. Sitting at my desk reminds me of Lyra. That’s where I was when she barged into my office—and my heart—on Friday. We kissed here, and she smacked me here, and I thought about how I couldn’t fuck her that day if I’d already fucked someone else not twelve hours before here. I’m supposed to be settling into my new role, but most of my brain power is being spent thinking about all the ways I can get Lyra back into my bed. Or at least back into my life.

  But no. I freaked the fuck out and left her apartment like it was on fire. Instead, my heart was on fire and I couldn’t figure out why I wanted to stoke the flames instead of put them out. And all I got out of that was the constant reminder in the form of her smell all over my sheets. Her damn fruity soap smell was still all over me by the time I went to bed, and now, I don’t ever want to wash my sheets. The torment of that reminder is my punishment for doing exactly what the last asshole did to her. To a woman who deserves nothing but good things. Love, happiness, and all the shit I can’t promise her because of who I am as a man.

  I bolted. And haven’t called. Won’t call. Because I made a promise. And, if she doesn’t already believe I’ve broken it, then I’ll do everything I can to keep it. Which apparently includes not getting a damn thing done at work because I can’t fucking concentrate.

  A knock on my door jolts me out of my internal misery. Chaz pokes his head in before fully entering and shutting the door.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask him, shocked that he’s here. He just got married. He shouldn’t be at work.

  “You think I’d leave you to figure this out
on your own on your first day on the job?” He gives me a pointed look. “Yeah, right.”

  “But you—”

  “I know.” He sits in one of the chairs in front of my desk. “She declined my offer to whisk her away to Bali or Fiji. All I want to do is be inside her right now, but she insisted on going back to work today.”

  Back to work today. With Lyra. Fuck my life.

  “Whatever,” he says. “I have paperwork to finish up anyway. And I have to bring you up to speed on everything before I’ll feel comfortable leaving you alone.”

  Obviously, I should never be left alone. I’m a mess alone right now. I need to focus, but I absolutely can’t. So it’s a good thing Chaz is here. Maybe he can—

  “Hey. You okay, man?” he asks, leaning close to my desk and trying to get my attention.

  I shake my head a little. “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just all so…surreal.”

  “Tell me about it,” he says, apparently convinced by my lie. “Who would have thought that I’d be married and you’d be CEO?”

  And that I’d be falling in— “Yeah. It’s crazy,” I say instead. Shutting that shit down now.

  It doesn’t matter. I have way too much on my plate. Right now, I have to focus on becoming the best CEO I can be without getting any women involved. So that’s what I’m going to do. It’s my dream come true, so why am I not more excited? Why don’t I feel like I have everything I’ve ever wanted? Oh yeah. Because I want even more, and it goes by the name of Lyra. My angel.

  Chaz starts going over everything we need to get done in the coming days to make the transition easy and simple. But I can’t stop thinking about how being with Lyra would make this new job worth everything I’ve done to get here. Worth everything I’ve sacrificed too. Asking her to be with me would be in line with asking her to trust being with that last asshole again though. And I’m not nearly good enough for her as I am. Plus, I already left her without a word, and it’s been nearly forty-eight hours since then. I can’t possibly try now. I just can’t.

  Chaz snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Hello? What’s going on with you?”

  I clear my throat. “It’s a lot to take in, man. Sorry. What were you saying?”

  “The last thing I said was that I fucked a donkey last night, and you said nothing,” he explains, “so something else is obviously on your mind. What the hell is up?”

  I scoot my chair closer to my desk and adjust the way I’m sitting. “It’s a long fucking story,” I say, looking at the top of my desk.

  “And I’ve got all day,” he answers, checking his watch. “Shiree doesn’t get home from work until five thirty.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat while deciding what to tell him. The whole thing is so fucked up. But it’d help to get some outside input—as long as he can keep his fucking mouth shut. His new wife is Lyra’s best friend, after all.

  “Okay. I’m gonna tell you,” I finally say. “But you have to shut the fuck up about it. Nothing I say leaves this room.”

  He lifts two fingers in the air. “Scout’s honor,” he replies—even though he was never a Scout and I know it.

  I roll my eyes. Then I take a deep breath, and as I let it out, I put my palms flat on my desk. “After the party on Friday, I kinda slept with Lyra.”

  “You what?” He’s gripping the armrests now, his knuckles white from holding on so tightly.

  “I know how it sounds, but I swear it’s not like that.”

  “Then what the fuck is it like?” he asks through gritted teeth. “Because it certainly sounds like you’re trying to fuck my relationship with Shiree up. Again.”

  “No. I’m not,” I insist. “I was stupid before, but I was just trying to help. I told you that. This is—”

  “Wait,” he says, looking thoughtful. “I thought she looked like she was forcing her smile at the party.” He raises a finger in the air. “And you were staring at the women while we were talking. Dude.” He pauses and stares at me. “What the fuck is going on?”

  My first answer is, “She was forcing a smile at the party?” Because my heart hurts from knowing that she was upset about something. Especially since that something was probably me.

  “Yeah. And, before we even got to the party, she was acting a little off. She got a weird phone call before we left Shiree’s house to get married…” He trails off, staring at my desk in thought. “And then you didn’t even look surprised when we announced that we were husband and wife…” Again, he trails off before looking up at me, his eyes wide. “You knew. She told you.”

  I nod once.

  “I thought you met at the party though. What the hell?”

  “This is why I said that it’s not like what it sounds like,” I remind him.

  “Then fucking tell me what it actually is, man.”

  I put my elbows on my desk and point to my office door. “Friday morning, she stormed right into my office like a bat outta Hell. All because she had to defend her best friend and tell me to stay the hell out of business I had no right to be in. Apparently, everyone was pissed about what I told Shiree, but I swear to god, man. I had your best intentions in mind.”

  “Yeah, yeah. We’ve been over this,” he says, making a “hurry up” motion with his hands. “Get to the part where things aren’t what they seem and all that shit.”

  Leaning back in my chair, I say, “She was furious, but I found it, well, irresistible. So I kissed her.”

  “It still seems like you just fucked her, Blake.”

  “Let me fucking get there,” I insist. Then I’m able to tell him more of the story. About how she slapped me, but that only spurred me on. Both of us on, actually. But then I had to stop because of what I’d been doing the night before. So she slapped me again.

  “Wait a minute,” Chaz says. “You actually cockblocked yourself? Since when have you cared about fucking two different women in the same twenty-four hours?”

  “That’s exactly my point, man!” I stand up and throw my arms out to my sides. “See? Shit’s fucked up, but not in the fucked-up way you thought. I swear.”

  He shakes his head, but he’s actually grinning a little. “Okay. Keep going.”

  So I tell him the rest. That I called her after he and I had gotten off the phone to find out what was going on, why they were going to be late. That she texted me later because she’d refused to tell me before. That we flirted a little before the party started. That she’d told me about her past, that she’d been hurt recently. That I promised not to hurt her that way—but that I was likely already doing that.

  Chaz gazes at the floor, confused. “How could you have—oh wait.” Now, he looks at me. “You said you slept with her.”

  “Yeah. After the party. But that’s not even the problem.” I tell him about how I bought her breakfast, but she was ready to go home. So I took her home and got a call from Simon about not following in Chaz’s previous wild-bachelor footsteps. And then went back and slept with her again. But then I left. “That’s the problem.”

  “Why’d you leave, then?” he asks.

  I take a big breath and hold it in my lungs. I’m not even sure I can explain this to him, but I’ll try. “Because I’m a chickenshit.” Well, that’s as good an explanation as any, I suppose.

  “Damn straight you are,” he says.

  “And,” I add, “I just got this new job at work because this asshole quit on us. It’s not like I have time for a relationship like he does.”

  He laughs at that. But then he sobers. “Don’t hide behind excuses, man. You’re gonna regret it.”

  I exhale a long breath through my nose. He’s right—I know it. But, for Lyra’s sake, so I don’t hurt her again, I think I have to hide behind them.

  “Look,” Chaz says, getting up from the chair. “Let’s take a break here. We have a lot to cover, and I need some food. Do you want anything?” He starts walking to the door.

  I’m feeling like I got off relatively easy when I say, “No, I’m good.”
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  But then he faces me and says, “Well, I’ll tell you what you don’t want. You don’t want to piss my wife off by fucking her best friend over.” Before he leaves, he looks at me and points. “Seriously. Don’t fucking do that.”

  I throw my hands up in surrender. “Not planning on it,” I say loudly so he can hear me as he shuts the door.

  No, I’m not planning on it. But it already might be too late.

  Chapter 8

  Lyra

  It’s surprising how much you can still think about a thing a month after it stopping being a thing. When thirty whole days have gone by since that thing happened and you’re still thinking about that damn thing, what the hell do you do? Nothing, apparently, but think about the damn thing. The thing that shall not be named. Ever. The thing that shall not be named but shall always be thought about.

  God almighty, I’ve lost my damn mind. Thanks to this damn thing.

  Seriously though. How is he not thinking about this thing all the time? How has he not called? How has he not gone insane from wondering about this thing that’s not a thing like I have? Ugh. And I can’t even ask Shiree to ask Chaz about him because I still haven’t told her. I’ve somehow been able to avoid it with her, which is a blessing and a curse. I’ll be able to avoid it a little while longer too because she and Chaz left tonight for their two-week honeymoon—which is also a blessing and a curse. Because I might explode if I don’t tell someone what happened.

  Hmm. Speaking of that. I wonder if he’s told anyone. I don’t know who he’d tell besides Chaz, and that’s probably a disaster waiting to happen. So maybe he’s kept his mouth shut. And maybe he’s in as many knots as I am. I may never know. But I have to let this out. Tonight.

  It’s our first Thirsty Thursday without Shiree, but Patti, Zo, and I are plodding along anyway. And thank freaking goodness for that because I’ll have a chance to tell my friends without Shiree hearing about it too. I don’t like that I have to be like this and keep secrets from my best friend, but I can only worry about my own emotions right now. It’s selfish, but I have to do what I can to protect myself.