My eyes widen. "What? Fuck no, we're only friends."
The smirk on his face is meant to aggravate me. "Right, and the Bulls are going to go all the way this season."
Conceding, I admit, "We might be slightly more than friends. How the fuck do you know anyway?"
Hayden's mouth quirks up even higher at one corner. "Come on dude, your voice goes up an octave or two when you talk about her."
Incredulous, I respond with, "No, it doesn't."
"Yeah, it does, now tell me what happened?"
Ignoring the grade school boy comment, I tell Hayden a stripped down version of the story, leaving out the blowjob part. I didn't think Tess would appreciate that.
With a shake of his head, he says, "Listen, man, I've been with Allie for five years, and I still fuck up all the time. But I've learned something you might want to know-sometimes you just have to say you're sorry even if you have no idea why."
I lean back in my chair. "She called me a jerk-again, and I have to be the one to apologize."
"You are a jerk," he laughs.
I flip him my middle finger.
"No seriously, she's probably feeling uncertain about what's going to happen when the two of you aren't caring for Max anymore."
All I can do is stare at him.
"If I were you, I'd start by discussing what's next, and soon."
Stunned by the fact that Hayden is giving me advice on how to deal with women, I seek council on the biggest question. "What if I don't know what comes next?"
Hayden stands and looks right at me. "Then you better figure it out-fast."
Great.
Just fucking great.
Tess
THINGS AREN'T EXACTLY going smoothly-in both my business and personal worlds. In fact, both are rather a mess right now.
Turns out the floorboards in the backroom of the café are rotted and need replacing. And the pipes are so old, they too need to be replaced. In addition, two coats of paint isn't covering up the water stains on the walls from an old leak, and the painter recommends some kind of treatment be used and then he'll need to repaint again.
All of these things require capital, a lot of capital. Unfortunately, the small business loan I applied for hasn't been approved yet. Turns out since I wasn't on any of the accounts that I managed at Gaspard, my credit hasn't been established. The loan officer isn't sure how long it will take for all the paperwork to go through. If my funds run out before the loan is approved, I will have to put the renovations of the café on hold.
That will only cost me more money.
As if all that isn't enough, whatever this thing is I have going on with Nick will probably be over by Thursday. And oddly enough, that makes me sad. I'm not ready for it to end.
It's after ten o'clock by the time I pull into Fiona and Ethan's driveway. The snow had stopped falling days ago, but the temperature hasn't warmed up at all. Fiona and Ethan's vehicles are in the garage, and I park next to Nick's Range Rover on the pavement. I'm not quite ready to brave the cold between my car and the back door, but because I am exhausted, I open my car door and make a run for it.
My fingers are already getting numb as I fumble with the key. When I finally turn it, I realize the door isn't locked.
Nick.
This means Nick is still awake.
Every night he has gotten up to check all the doors, even though I have reassured him they were locked. That's how I know he'd never go to bed without locking up.
More than likely he's waiting for me.
In the downstairs entryway, I remove my boots, hat and coat, and slowly climb the steps. As soon as I hit the top one, I see him across the room sitting on the stairs that lead upstairs. The room is dimly lit, only a single light on over the kitchen sink, but I can see him clearly. His elbows are on his knees, and his hands under his chin.
"Nick?" I say softly.
He nods, his lips pressed firmly together. "We need to talk." he responds getting to his feet.
He's going to break it off with me.
I nod back, knowing this was coming, but still not ready for it. I tried to prepare myself when he hadn't called or texted me all day. And I couldn't believe how much I missed hearing his husky voice or reading his funny emails, his lewd innuendoes, and his dirty text messages. I've grown used to them over the past two weeks, especially the dirty texts. Things like:
I'm thinking tonight while I eat your pussy, you can suck my cock.
And then there are things like this sent in the middle of the day:
I'm thinking about stopping by the café before picking Max up and finger fucking you, anyone around?