"Don't worry about me," I say as the panic sets in.
I can't tell Adam about this. Carter is his best friend. He would have to tell Carter that Rachel is emotionally cheating on him. God, the term "emotional cheating" would make him gag. If this comes out and Adam finds out that I knew about it all along, would he ever forgive me for keeping it from him?
It doesn't matter if he can forgive me or not. This isn't my secret to tell. And, as offensive as the statement is, I believe in the motto of hoes before bros.
Even when the bro in question makes my heart do things that damn near require a defibrillator.
***
"I've missed this," Grant says as he pulls me toward him. "I was starting to forget what you looked like."
I laugh and draw circles on his bare chest with my index finger. "I know. I've been busy. But my schedule is starting to clear up. The costumes for the show are down to the details and … "
And I can't hang out with Adam without waves of guilt hitting me. He's texted me a few times over the last few days and I just give him quick one word responses or make up excuses to not hang out with him. It's killing me to lie to him, but I don't know what else to do. Until Rachel gets the nerve to break up with Carter, I can't see Adam.
That's why I'm with Grant now. I don't have to lie to Grant about anything. It's easy with Grant, simple even.
Of course, by pushing Adam away to be with Grant, I'm doing the exact thing that I'm frustrated with Rachel over. But I'm not engaged to Adam. I'm not even dating Adam. But I still feel like a monster for being here with Grant.
"So, are you becoming a theatre geek now?" he asks with a smile. That smile used to send me through the roof. It's still a nice smile, don't get me wrong, but it doesn't have quite the same effect on me as it once did.
"Just more of a fashion freak," I reply.
"A freak, huh?" he asks, wriggling his eyebrows. I hit him with a pillow. "I'm just saying, I have some videos saved if you want to try out some things."
I hit him with the pillow again. He manages to catch it and throw it off the bed all the while pulling me toward him. Our laughter subsides, and I rest my head on his chest.
"You know, I thought you had another guy lined up," Grant tells me.
"I've just been hanging out with Rachel and Carter and Adam."
"Who's Adam?" Grant asks, picking at a thread on my comforter. I lightly smack his hand away.
"He's a friend," I respond quickly. Because that's all he is, really. We're nothing more. And I'll be lucky if he's still my friend once he finds out about Rachel and Carter and Hank. I push the thought from my mind. I squeeze Grant's side where he's ticklish. "I didn't think we were exclusive."
"It's not like that. I mean, we're not exclusive. I just thought you'd tell me if there was someone else."
"There's not." At least, there's not going to be once Adam finds out that I'm just as horrible as he once believed me to be.
***
"I thought you were done with Grant," Rachel says as she walks into my apartment. Part of me hopes she does move away. It'd be nice to know I could walk around naked in my own apartment without anyone walking in on me.
"I'm weak. And this is your fault," I say and Rachel's eyes grow wide. "You and Hank being secret lovers has thrown me."
"We're not lovers. We haven't even … you know what? I'm not discussing that with you."
"And I appreciate it," I say as I take a seat behind my sewing machine. "So, have you told Carter?"
"No."
I fire the sewing machine up and grab the pants for the play's Mr. Rochester.
"I'm just waiting for-"
I cut off her sentence with the whirr of the sewing machine.
"The timing is-" whirr! "I still want to be friends and-" whirr! - "I don't know what the hurry to tell-" whirr! - "I swear to God, Evie, if you do that one more time, I will murder you."
"Tell me something worth hearing and I won't interrupt you," I say, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms, waiting for her response.
"I have my last interview with Austin tomorrow. We're doing a video conference. I will talk to Carter as soon as the interview is over. Happy?"
"Of course I'm not happy!" I can't help but shout. "You're ending your engagement, my brother won't even return my text messages because he thinks that I'm ashamed of him, and I just crawled back into bed with Grant!"
Rachel nods, taking in all of this information. Finally, she quips, "If it helps, it sounded like you at least enjoyed crawling back into bed with Grant."
"Get out of my house," I tell her, and we both laugh. I get the feeling that it's the first time Rachel's laughed in the past week.
"I needed that," she says, confirming my suspicion.
"Do you need help with the interview? I can run through some possible questions with you or if you need opinions on outfits, I can suggest some things. That blue blazer you have would be perfect, and you could pair it with that yellow dress I fixed up for you from the thrift store? You'll look polished but fun. Professional but not rigid."
"Aren't you too busy with the costumes?"
Funnily enough, thanks to not being able to trust myself around Adam, I've had a lot of time on my hands. I hadn't realized how much time I had been spending with him, and it shows at the alarming rate I'm getting the costumes finished.
"I'm never too busy for my best friend." I flip off the sewing machine. "Now, what do you believe you can bring to this company, Ms. Bartley?"
Chapter Twenty-One
"You have a visitor," Connie says, sticking her head into the alterations room.
"Me?" I ask, unable to think of anyone that would visit me at work. Rachel has her interview today and, even if she didn't know better than to disturb me at work, she would definitely not come by here since her certifiably insane wedding planner works here and she has done her best to keep a five mile radius between herself and Jamie.
"Yeah, and you should hurry up. I don't want to get on his bad side. Especially if he's going to continue delivering fresh pastries to the shop."
I had begun to stand, but have found myself frozen in a weird squat position.
Adam is here.
"Are you okay?" Connie asks, cocking her head to the side to stare at me. I force myself to stand and give her a thumbs up. "Okay then, come on."
As she pushes me out of alterations and down the hall, I come to the conclusion that Connie would sell her daughter if it meant she could get Adam to deliver doughnuts on a semi-regular basis.
"Hey," Adam says, and it sounds like he just let out all the air in his lungs.
He looks great. He's wearing a Betty Jo's Bakery apron but, beneath that, he has on a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of excellent fitting jeans. His curly hair is placed just so and I have to shove my hands into the pockets of my dress to keep myself from touching him.
"Hi," I say, and I realize that I had been holding my breath.
"I hadn't seen you at the bakery so I wanted to, uh, make sure your coworkers weren't suffering. I know you had picked stuff up for them a few times," he says, handing the box of baked goods in his hands over to Connie.
"Yeah, and I don't know what you put in these things, but I was starting to experience withdrawal symptoms," Jamie says, plucking up a bear claw from the pastry box as she walks past.
"Sugar and love," he tells her and she raises the bear claw up as a sort of salute to him. He laughs and looks back at me. "I'm sorry to barge in where you work."
"Don't worry about it," Connie says, sucking the doughnut glaze off her thumb. "Evie, if you want to take your break, go ahead. Your next appointment isn't for another forty-five minutes."
"Okay, thanks," I say, not entirely sure I mean it. I lead out Adam out the door of the shop. Being in a strip mall, there's a bench a few shops down from the boutique. And I happen to know that it's far enough away that Connie and Jamie are both incapable of seeing and hearing us unless they come outside.
"What's going on?" Adam asks me as soon as our butts hit the bench.
"What do you mean?" I reply, wondering how long I can play dumb.
"You've been dodging my calls and texts. I know I didn't make you angry because you would have already fired back at me," he says with a smile. "What's going on, Evie?"
Do I tell him the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? I can't tell him about Rachel and Hank. But I can tell him about me. I should tell him. Shouldn't I?
Before I can say anything, a car pulls into the parking spot directly in front of the bench. I recognize the car immediately and feel the urge to throw up. No, not now.
Hank gets out of the car and I can feel the blood drain from my face.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, looking back from Hank to Adam.
"I need to talk to you. About Rachel," he says.