"Right."
"Good. Call him. Invite him over. Sit down and hash this thing out. At the very least, you'll have clarity, and you'll know what steps to take next. Maybe those steps are the next ones for your relationship. Maybe not. Maybe it'll be you deciding what you need to do for you. Either way, the conversation needs to happen. And it needs to happen sooner rather than later."
"You're right," I said. "Of course, you're right."
"I'm always right."
"I'm scared," I whispered, fighting back a wave of emotion. "The more I think about the night, the more I think that maybe I was wrong. He did seem a little standoffish. I mean, he's Steven. He's always like that at stuffy family parties. But last night he was a little cool, even when I got out of the limo. I can't figure him out."
"Which is why you need to talk to him. Don't stress trying to make sense of it all now. Talk to him. Clear the air. Make sense of it together. Otherwise, you're just working yourself up for no reason," Melissa reached out and rested her hand on top of mine. "You've got this, baby sister. I believe in you. If the worst happens, call me. You know I'll be there with chocolates and chick flicks. You just need to say the word."
"Thanks, Melissa," I said with a forced smile. "I don't know what I would do without you."
Later, after work, I found myself sitting on my bed staring down at my phone. I had Steven's number dialed and was trying to work up the courage to press call. I was afraid of the answer I would get when I called him. Would he blow me off again, or would he agree to come over? Would he be hesitant, or would he be as eager to me to get it all out in the open again together?
My thumb hovered over the green dial button. I swallowed and bit my bottom lip.
This was Steven. Why was I so worked up about this? I knew him better than anyone else. He wasn't a cruel person. He wouldn't want to hurt me. Even if things didn't go the way I wanted, I knew I shouldn't be scared to reach out to him.
I pressed the button and lifted the phone to my ear. I waited, my stomach churning, as the phone continued to ring and ring. It went unanswered, and Steven's voice filled the microphone. His voicemail beeped at me.
I hung up and stared at my phone in my lap.
I ran over the possibilities of what Steven could be doing. Chances were he was doing something similar to what I was doing: nothing. Had he seen my name flash across the screen and chosen not to answer?
I thought back to the cocktail party. Maybe I had done something that bothered him, and I hadn't even realized. Had I unintentionally said something too flirty to Andrew? Had I made Steven see something that wasn't there?
He wouldn't ignore me for no reason. I was sure of that.
I felt the tears coming. I tried to hold them at bay. I was desperate to keep it together. Once I started, I wouldn't be able to get myself under control. I would spend the whole night sobbing like I had when Steven first cut me out of his life. I would wake up with a headache, which would remind me of how broken I was, and then I would cry again.
I couldn't keep the emotions at bay. It washed over me, starting with the lump in my throat which gave way to the first sob. I buried my face in my hands and let it happen.
I lifted my covers and sank beneath them, pulling them up to my chin and rolling on to my side. I curled up in the fetal position, my body still shaking with sobs, and thought of how nice it had been lying with Steven in his bed the other night.
The warmth of his body pressed up against mine had been such a comfort. It had been the best feeling in the world. There was nothing that could top it. Nothing that could compete with the sense of safety I had when I was lying pressed up against him.
Now I felt weak and vulnerable. I felt unloved and unwanted.
I never should have called him. I should have waited.
He probably needed more time. Seeing my name on his missed calls wasn't going to make matters any better. He was processing, digesting, and trying to sort out the mess I had put him in. It wasn't like I had slept with some random guy when I was sixteen and not told him about it. I had slept with his brother.
Andrew was the one man Steven had ever been intimidated by. He grew up in his older brother's shadow. His parents had praised Andrew all his life, and Steven had been somewhat of the black sheep in his family. I had never believed him when he told me that. Steven had always been perfect in my eyes.
But his family strove for perfection; hence the fancy cocktail party. They loved both their sons equally, but they placed Andrew on a pedestal. He had been the one Steven was always compared to. I knew this was hard for Steven as a teenager.
That was probably why this was so hard for him to swallow. I had fucked the one guy Steven had always tried to beat. And, for a whole two weeks, I had thought I was going to have Andrew's baby. Andrew had risen to the occasion, in typical Andrew style; holding my hand, comforting me, assuring me everything would be okay, giving me rides to my appointments at the clinic. I knew all of this played a factor in how Steven felt.
The way I had made him feel.
A secret like mine kept for ten years was damaging. I had hurt Steven more than anyone ever had. That much was obvious now.
I cried harder. I cried for what I had done to my best friend. I cried for what I had lost.
My heart felt like it had broken into a million pieces, and I didn't know if I would ever be able to pick them all back up. Not after this.
Not after Steven.
Chapter 25
Steven
"I understand your concerns, Mr. Edmund, and I am taking all of your feedback into account. If you can give me another forty-eight hours, I can assure you the problem will be under control," I said into the phone.
Mr. Edmund, one of my high-end investors, sighed on the other end. "Make it right, Mr. Marx, or I'm pulling my funding. I can't risk these hackers getting a hold of my personal information or that of my clients. I am not in the business of taking risks."
"Neither am I," I said firmly. "Trust me."
"Trust you?" Mr. Edmund barked out a bitter laugh. "My boy, you asked me to trust you when you first asked me to open my wallet, and now look where we are. Four months into the project and you have a first-rate hacker on your hands. You're lucky you caught the breach before he managed to get to anything important. Forty-eight hours, Mr. Marx. I will give you forty-eight hours. If the problem isn't resolved, I expect my money wire transferred back to my account immediately. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose and squeezing my eyes closed. This was the third conversation since last night that had ended with the threat of pulling out of my app project. I ended the call and slumped forward on my desk.
The security breach had been intense. I was still working to find out where the hacker had got in-or if it was even a hacker in the first place. I suspected malware or a bot, but explaining that to some of the investors was like trying to explain the difference between data and WiFi to a ninety-six-year-old. Some things just didn't compute.
I kept my cool during the calls, trusting that my team would resolve the issue before we lost any more funding. So far, only one client had pulled out. One out of fifteen wasn't all that bad-so long as it stayed at that number.
My phone rang. I groaned, preparing to be yelled at by yet another client, and answered the call. I was surprised to hear Andrew's voice.
"Hey, man," my brother said cheerfully. "How's it going? You still up for drinks later this week? I was thinking Thursday. How does that sound?"
"Hey, Andrew," I said. "Maybe. I can't commit to anything right now. Some shit went down at work, and I'm so screwed. Can I call you on Thursday afternoon and let you know?"
"Yeah, sure thing. Is everything alright?"
"It will be. Hopefully. I need to figure it all out fast."
"Alright. Well, good luck buddy. Hey, while I have you on the phone, have you and Allie patched things up? Things looked like they were on the up and up for you two at the cocktail party."
"Things are complicated right now," I said.
"Complicated for a reason, or complicated because you're making them that way?"
"What the hell does that mean?" I asked, my words coming out a little harsher than I intended.
"It means, are you making this a bigger deal than it needs to be? Have you forgiven her yet?"
"It's not that simple," I said. "I'm working on it."
Andrew laughed on the other end. "Working on it? Bro, if you don't get your shit together, you're going to lose her for good."
"To who? You?" I challenged.
"Steven, get your head out of your ass and get a grip. It was ten years ago."