Yours actually, p.5
Yours Actually, page 5
part #2 of Only Yours Series
“No, that would never work.” The words are out of my mouth before my brain even gets a minute with the idea.
“Why not?” Blair asks. Very fucking fast, may I add. I’ve no doubt this was where she was heading. Probably giving Rhodes the idea without anyone even noticing. She’s sly like that, my other best friend.
I make eyes at her. They’re so subtle no one here would pick up on them, but she and I are well-versed in making these eyes that say shut the hell up right now.
“Yeah, why not?” Rhodes waits for my answer like he thinks I’ve actually got a valid one.
Callan? He’s over there thinking about this. I can see it on his face that he’s reaching the same conclusion as Rhodes, which means I need to double down on coming up with a reason he’ll buy.
Being his plus-one is a terrible idea. The worst idea in all the history of ideas. Not because I don’t want to spend that kind of time with him, but because doing so will be hard for me.
Over the years, I’ve accepted we will never be together in the way I’d like. Being his best friend is both the greatest thing in the world and at times the worst. It’s hard in the moments when he shares his greatest successes with me and I wish I could share them on a deeper level. And in his lowest moments when I wish I could do more for him. And every moment in between where I have to keep my hands and my mouth and my heart to myself.
A summer of weekends spent together at weddings would be filled with so many of these moments. Add in the romantic sentiments and desire to find my life partner that a wedding always stirs in me, and it’s a recipe for heartache.
I’m still racing to land on a plausible reason why it wouldn’t work when Callan says, “It’s a good idea, Ace. We’ve got three weddings in common already. Rhodes is right, it’s a no-brainer.”
My heart is pounding against my ribcage as every set of eyes comes to me, waiting for my agreement.
Oh, Jesus.
There’s no saying no now. When Callan sets his mind to something, he always makes it happen.
Blair’s lips pull up. Just a teeny bit, but I see them and I shoot her a quick glare. Then, I smile at Callan. “Okay, let’s do this.”
4
CALLAN
“Why anyone would choose to get married at ten a.m. is beyond me,” Sasha says during the pre-wedding dinner that Bobby and Karen hold on the Friday night before their wedding. They had their wedding rehearsal dinner last night so they could have this dinner tonight. Bobby insisted every wedding guest attend. This meant I had to push my way through a hectic afternoon of work meetings, reschedule a work dinner, and fight through traffic to arrive in Long Island on time. I couldn’t give a shit what time people get married; I only give a fuck that I was forced into this dinner.
“I don’t think I’d choose that time,” Olivia says as she reaches for her glass of wine, drawing my gaze to her bare arm. “I want the morning of my wedding to be relaxed and I don’t think an early wedding would allow that.”
“And who issues a wedding day schedule?” Sasha appears extremely confused about the timeline we were emailed during the week.
“I’ve never received one,” Olivia says. “But I’m not mad about it.”
“That’s because you’re the queen of being organized,” Sasha says. “It feels very bossy to me.”
I barely pay attention as they continue discussing the schedule. Rhodes checked out of the conversation five minutes ago when he had to leave the table to take care of a work problem and Olivia’s bare skin has me checking out now.
Truth be told, I’ve struggled to check in on any of the conversations the four of us have had since I arrived an hour and a half ago. Olivia came earlier with Sasha and Rhodes, and when I knocked on the door of her hotel room, she answered it wearing the sexy black dress that’s the cause of all my current problems.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she glued it to herself.
It’s fitted everywhere but cinched hard at the waist, accentuating those luscious curves that I’ve been unable to remove my eyes or thoughts from for three long weeks. Ever since that conversation with Penny at Bradford’s wedding.
At least this dress covers her breasts. Unlike that pink dress I walked in on her wearing at Rhodes’s condo a couple of weeks ago. Fuck. That memory is burned into my brain and I’ve revisited it more times than I care to admit.
She laughs at something Sasha says and leans back against her chair while bringing both her hands up to scoop her long brunette hair off her shoulders and tie it into a ponytail. I’m fucking mesmerized. It’s as if I’ve never seen a woman tie her hair up. My gaze traces every single movement before finally settling on her sun-kissed face.
“Are you okay?” she asks, concern creasing her face. “You’ve been quiet and seem distracted.”
I’m distracted as fuck but I’m not about to tell her that. I pull at my tie that I’m still wearing and loosen it before undoing the top couple buttons on my shirt. There was no time to change when I arrived. We were straight into drinks and then dinner. “Work kicked my ass today, but I’m okay. Don’t worry about me, Ace.”
Her features smooth into a soft smile. “I always worry about you. That’s my job.” She glances around the restaurant before leaning in close to me, placing her hand on my thigh, and whispering against my ear, “Bobby and Karen just left, so this means we can too. And I have the perfect thing for you up in my room.”
Christ.
If she knew the shit running through my mind right now as to what she could give me up in her room, she’d be shocked. Fuck knows, I am.
Olivia is a touchy-feely person. Always has been. With me, anyway. And I’ve never thought anything of it. I can’t begin to count the number of times she’s placed her hand on my thigh. Tonight, though, it’s as if she’s wrapped her hand around my dick because that’s where I’m feeling it.
I almost choke on my words when I say, “What is it?”
She inspects me like I’m sick. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Her fingers curl into my leg while she studies me. “What’s going on, Callan?”
Rhodes saves me when he comes back to the table and announces, “The bride and groom have finally fucked off.” He eyes Sasha. “Time to go, baby.” Then, to me and Olivia, he says, “We’ll catch you guys at the wedding.”
Olivia looks at him. “What, no early morning breakfast with us before the wedding?”
Sasha stands. “Very funny, Liv. You know I’m not cut out to get ready for a ten-a.m. wedding and show up for breakfast with you guys all in the one morning. We can’t all be queens at managing our time like you.”
“You should build Sasha a spreadsheet,” I say once we’re alone.
Olivia narrows her eyes at me. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or making fun of my planning methods.”
I grin and reach for my glass of whiskey. “You know I fucking love your planning methods.”
“Yes, but you’ve got that cheeky look in your eyes that you get when you’re making fun of me.”
“I’m amused at the thought of you trying to manage Sasha. You have to admit that you’re very dedicated when you’re trying to help someone, and we both know Sash has even less skills when it comes to personal management than I do. She’d be running to Blair within twenty-four hours begging for her help to manage you.”
She smacks me lightly before pushing her chair back to stand. “You’re lucky I love you, Callan Black. Also, you better be on my side if this ever happens. You’re the only person I know who can handle Blair when she goes into Blair-battle Mode.”
Olivia has told me she loves me almost as many times as she’s put her hands on my body. I’ve always taken it for granted and never really stopped and thought about the words when she’s said them. Tonight, they’re like a direct hit. They pierce through all the noise in my brain and settle inside my soul in the most confusing way.
I’ve wanted her friendship and the platonic love that comes with it for as long as I can remember, but now, there’s something more to it. Something I don’t want to get too close to because if I do, it’ll fuck everything up that we have. And that’s not something I ever want to do. I want Olivia in my life for life; taking our friendship further would land us in a tangled mess of feelings that could end everything.
As we weave our way through the tables to leave the restaurant, I push all that down and do my best to ignore it. I also do my best to avoid all the couples who try to stop us on our way out. This is the problem with knowing too many people, and while I’m usually up for a conversation, I’m not tonight. I just want some time by myself so I can figure out how to get through this weekend, because as much as having Olivia as my plus-one for the season sounded like a no-brainer at the time, I’ve very quickly realized tonight that it may have been a grave error in judgment.
Olivia’s cell phone starts ringing while we’re standing at her hotel room door. She’s busy fumbling in her purse for her room keycard and mutters something about hockey players having a knack for calling at the exact wrong moment. Just as she stabs at the phone to answer the call, it stops ringing.
She looks at me. “In my next life I won’t even know what hockey is, let alone know any of the men who chase pucks around for a living.”
“Slade?” She’s working with three hockey players now, but Slade’s the one who gives her the most hell.
“Yes. He’s called me ten times today. Ten!”
“Jesus.” I bite my tongue because there’s a fuckload more I could say but I know she won’t want to hear any of it.
She sighs as she taps the keycard to the door and opens it. “Hayden’s gotta be happy with the billable hours, but the emotional work with Slade is equal to double those hours really. I asked him to only call me in the case of an emergency this weekend, so I’ll quickly return his call just to make sure he’s okay.”
I follow her in and survey the room. Olivia is the tidiest person I know but this room looks like a bomb hit. Her suitcase is on the bed with clothes strewn half in and half out. Other clothes lay in piles on the bed, and fuck me, two lacy bras are on the very top of those piles. One is black and one is red, and I’ve never wanted to see a bra on a woman as much as I want to see that red bra on Olivia.
While she calls Slade, I reply to a few emails that need to be taken care of tonight and ask my assistant to follow up on a couple of others. I try hard to remove my eyes from that red bra while I do this but I appear to have developed a multitasking skill that I’ve never had before and astound myself with my ability to tap out an email while committing the lace of that bra to memory.
When Olivia finishes with Slade and says, “Now, I know you’re not a fan of any kind of tea, but I have a herbal tea for you that I really want you to try,” I shove my phone in my trousers and say, “Hit me with it.” At this point, I’d drink tea all night long if it meant my mind was distracted from bras and bare skin and that sinful black dress I’ve imagined peeling from her in a million different ways.
Her brows gather together right before she plants her hands on her hips and says, “Okay, so now I know there really is something wrong with you. In all our years, you’ve never once easily submitted to tea.”
The tie that I loosened at dinner suddenly feels like it’s strangling me. Between Olivia standing in front of me the way she is and using words like submit, I’m fucked. I’m generally a straight thinker and rarely find myself with chaotic thoughts. Right now, my mind is a wreck I can’t even begin to make sense of.
“It’s been a fucker of a day at work. If tea will help me unwind, I’m all for it.”
Keeping her hands on her hips—fuck me, those hips—she shakes her head. “No, I’m not buying that anymore.”
“Anymore?” I’m fighting to keep up with this conversation because all I can think about is how much I want my hands on her hips.
She finally drops her hands. “You’ve been off for weeks. Brushing my concern aside whenever I bring it up. Ever since you slept with Penelope, to be honest. I’m worried you’re in denial over your feelings for her.”
“My feelings for her?” I’m only half paying attention because I’ve moved on from her hips and am now preoccupied with her earrings. Christ. I’ve never been engrossed with a woman’s earrings before. I’m telling myself it’s the sparkling diamonds that drew my gaze but that’s a lie. My eyes are all over her neck, her jawline, and the skin where they meet near her earlobe. What I’m actually engrossed in is thinking about kissing her there. And about inhaling that vanilla and coconut scent she loves to wear.
“Yes, Callan, your feelings. I think you’ve checked out on them. Dissociated maybe. I think you’ve been so busy these last few weeks because you’re trying to distract yourself from her.”
I am distracted. She’s got that right. Wrong woman, though. And my current distraction is wondering what perfume she wears. I’m stunned that I have no clue. I know a thousand things about Olivia and her preferences but I’ve never learned her favorite perfume.
“I don’t have any feelings for Penny.”
“Are you sure? Because that was definitely when you got weird. That weekend you spent with her. And we never did discuss that photo of her groping you while practically sitting on your lap in a restaurant. The one that was posted on Insta. That’s proof that something’s going on.”
“How do you figure that?”
“You’ve never even come close to doing something like that in public. Well, not that I know of, anyway.” She cocks her head and looks at me questioningly. “Have you?”
Fuck.
I’ve always known women overthink shit, but I’ve never known Olivia to. It was this side of her that appealed to me as a kid. I liked having a girl friend while not having any of the drama that girls often brought with them. She’s intelligent and rational, and always approaches situations with logic. This line of thinking she’s engaging in is absolutely not logical.
“Sleeping with Penny and spending the weekend with her was a lapse in judgment. I’ve never had feelings for her and I never will, Ace. I’m not dissociating or in denial.”
This does not put her mind at ease like it should. She doubles down on her worry and looks at me with tenderness. “You can tell me anything, Callan, and I’ll always support you and be there for you.”
Be there for me? “I’m not sure what you think is happening in my head, Liv, but you’re probably wrong. Work has distracted me for weeks, which you know. And now the German deal looks like it might fall through, so I’m busy trying to ensure that doesn’t happen. I’m tired because it’s affecting my sleep. And on top of that, I still haven’t heard back from Ethan, which has pissed me off.”
“Are you depressed?” she blurts. The wild look in her eyes says she really didn’t want to ask that question but couldn’t not ask it.
“Fuck, no.” I move closer to her, wanting to reassure her and take all her worry away. “I’m definitely not depressed and I’m sorry I’ve been giving off vibes that made you think that.” I frown. “Have you been worried about that for weeks?”
She bites her lip in the most adorable way. “No, but yes,” she says slowly before launching into her reasoning. “I’ve been worried about a lot of things because we haven’t been talking like we usually do. You feel distant. I even wondered if you’d finally developed a sex addiction. It was so unusual for you to sleep with a friend and then to do that whole”—she gestures back and forth with her hand—“PDA thing in the restaurant, and you just didn’t seem to want to talk about it, which was the most unusual thing of all. I don’t think there’s anything you and I have ever avoided talking about. It felt like you were shutting down on me and, honestly, Callan, don’t ever do that to me again. I don’t cope well when we’re not talking about everything.”
“A sex addiction?” My mouth curves up in amusement because it’s highly fucking amusing knowing she went there.
She arches a brow. “If the shoe fits.”
“Fuck, I don’t have that much sex.”
Still with the brow arch. “You really do.”
“I haven’t had sex in three weeks.”
Her brow arch is replaced with a hint of worry again. “You haven’t slept with anyone since Penelope?”
“No, but don’t make that into something it isn’t. I’m completely feelingless when it comes to Penny. I’ve just been too busy.”
She doesn’t appear convinced but she lets it go. “Okay, you need this tea more than I thought you did. It’s supposed to help with relaxation and sleep. And I also bought you a sleep mask that’s infused with lavender that I’ll give you before you leave. Hopefully that will help your sleep too.” She puts her hands all over me while directing me to the armchair in the corner of the room. “Good god, your muscles are tight. We should see if we can book you in for a massage first thing tomorrow.”
“No, I’m not getting up any earlier tomorrow morning.”
She forces me into the armchair. “Okay, then take off your shirt and I’ll give you a quick massage while the tea brews.”
Without waiting for my response, she turns and makes her way to the kettle and sets to work boiling water and preparing the tea. My eyes are locked on her body the entire time. I’m un-fucking-able to look anywhere else.
Olivia has given me more massages than I can remember, but tonight, that’s not happening. No fucking way am I letting her hands anywhere near me. I’ll drink this tea and then get the hell out of her room to the safety of my own. Thank Christ we didn’t book the two-bedroom suite she originally found for us. I’d agreed to it but someone else booked it before Olivia could.
Mercifully, my phone sounds with a text, giving me something to do other than thinking indecent thoughts about her. I’m replying to an email when she places the cup of tea on the low table in front of me. She’s eyeing my shoulders with intent and I’m about to tell her I don’t want a massage when her cell phone rings.
“If that’s Slade again, I may throttle him,” she mutters. “That guy doesn’t understand the meaning of emergency.”
