Frenched Series Bundle (24 page)

I arched one brow. “Trying to get rid of me?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. Ten years of friendship is enough, I’d say.”

Relieved, I opened my laptop again. “Drinks after work? I’ll text Erin and see if she’ll meet us.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Hey, I’m sending over the contract to Karen White right now. Why don’t you take the lead on this one? I’m here to help, but you could see how you do on your own.”

She nodded, her smile happy if not entirely confident. “Sounds good to me.”

As soon as she was gone, I emailed the contract, texted Erin, and hopped on kayak.com to check flights to New York.

Fuck.

Flying short notice was not cheap, and flying at all for me was akin to mild torture. Should I do it? I chewed on my bottom lip as I considered the possible outcomes.

Shit That Could Happen in

New York This Weekend

1) He says no emphatically. Breaks up with me. I drink wine.

2) He says maybe someday. Wants more time to think. I drink wine.

3) He says yes whole-heartedly. We apartment hunt the next day. I drink wine.

4) He says no. I blow him in spectacular fashion. He changes his mind. I drink wine.

5) He says oh my God yes, I was just about to propose, however did you know, you sexy, brilliant, hilarious goddess of a woman, please be mine forever and wear this flawless Tiffany diamond ring as but a small token of my undying love and commitment, let’s elope tomorrow! We have wild monkey sex. I drink wine.

See? There’s wine no matter what.
But my stomach would not settle down. The cursor hovered temptingly near the purchase button. I felt like I used to as a kid, standing on the high dive, looking at the pool below and daring myself to jump. It took me three summers of climbing up there, hemming and hawing, and descending the ladder in shame before I worked up enough courage to jump. And once I did it, it was so thrilling I was angry I’d waited so long.

OK. On three.

One. Two.

Deep breath.

Three.

I jumped. I had a nonstop flight from Detroit Metro into LaGuardia departing in just over twenty-four hours, and even though the grin briefly morphed to grimace when I saw the total charged to my credit card, I brushed aside any doubts.

This is the right thing. I feel it.

My phone buzzed with a text from Erin.

IDK about drinks tonight. I’m getting dick.

I burst out laughing, screenshot it, and sent it to Coco. Erin’s typos and auto-correct fails were a running joke with us. I texted her back.

Glad to hear it. It’s been a while.

OMG! I hate this stupid new phone!

I had to laugh at that. Erin was forever blaming her “new” phone, but she’d had it for months.

Sorry to hear you’re sick. How about just a glass of wine for medicinal purposes?

I guess I could. Or a cocktail.

Great. Let’s meet at Sugar House. 6:00?

OK. You twerked me into it.

I was laughing so hard I could barely reply.

You know how I love twerking.

What? OMG how is that even a word in my phone?

LOL See you at 6. I have news. <3

#

After a drink with the girls, I rushed home to start packing, still a little off balance by the whole idea of flying to New York on such short notice. It was just so unlike me! But that was part of the thrill too—Lucas would recognize that he was influencing me in all the right ways, and maybe he’d admit I’d had some influence on him too. Maybe he’d say he realized the value in talking about the future with me.

Bubbling with energy, I took my little red suitcase from my closet and set it in the center of my bedroom. Then I opened it up and began filling it with things I wanted to wear this weekend
without even making a list!
Wouldn’t Lucas be so proud of me when I told him? Dancing back and forth from my dresser to my closet to the suitcase, I tossed in jeans and tops, a pair of heels and a pair of flats. Over the top of it all I lay a slinky black dress in case we went out somewhere nice, and into my lingerie bag I placed a few carefully chosen items from the Phone Sex Wardrobe.

Because staying in was nice too.

My flight was delayed and I arrived at LaGuardia around six on Friday evening, which meant traffic was terrible. As my cab inched from Queens into Manhattan, I texted Coco to let her know I’d arrived safely.

I’m here. Flying sucks.

Was it bad?

Fucking turbulence. What the hell is rough air anyway? How can AIR be rough???

At least you’re there. Going right to his apartment?

Yes. In a cab now.

Lemme know how it goes. Love you!

Love you too.

I turned off my phone and stared out the window, watching the high-rise landscape of Midtown morph into the charming nineteenth century row houses of Greenwich Village. I liked the tree-lined streets and neighborhood feel of this area much better than the crowded sidewalks and towering skyscrapers of upper Manhattan. If Lucas agreed with me about moving in together and wanted to stay in New York, I definitely wanted to look for an apartment around here. His current place was nice and all, but it was really tiny. No real kitchen, room for only a couch in the living area, and only one closet in the entire place.

Totally unacceptable.

It was hard to believe he’d shared the apartment with his ex-girlfriend for an entire year before they broke up.

At the thought of
Jessica
—I couldn’t even think the name without wrinkling my nose—I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Lucas had dated her for three years before it ended, mostly because she wanted to get married and he didn’t. Unease swirled in my belly.

Stop it. This is not the same thing at all. You’re not coming here with an ultimatum, you’re just coming here to surprise him and talk.

“Right here, please,” I told the driver when Lucas’s building came into view. I paid the fare and got out of the cab, zipping my coat all the way up to my chin. All the snow that Detroit had gotten Wednesday night hadn’t quite arrived yet, but it was bitter cold.

I dragged my little suitcase up the cement steps of his red-painted brick row house, smiling as I imagined his reaction upon seeing me at his door. But at the top of the stairs, my face fell.

Shit. I have to buzz in.

I hadn’t thought about that. My surprise would be ruined before the thrilling Look How Adorably Spontaneous I Am moment I’d envisioned taking place in the hallway outside his apartment door. Somehow it wouldn’t have the same effect if I had to announce my arrival through the intercom system. Could I pretend to be someone else? Buzz another apartment and explain the situation? But which apartment? I didn’t know anyone else here.

Switching my weight from one foot to another to keep warm, I waited for several minutes, hoping someone would come out. When my nose and toes started to go numb, I gave up and pressed the button for Lucas’s apartment.

Anticipating his voice asking who was at the door, I was startled when he buzzed me in without saying anything at all. Maybe he was expecting someone?

Propping the door open with my butt, I pulled my suitcase inside, then traipsed up two sets of stairs to the third floor. The building, probably close to two hundred years old, was a house that had been split into apartments on either side of a narrow staircase, which had tilted with age. But my bag was small and light, and my adrenaline was pumping as I took the last few steps two at a time.

At his door, I took a deep breath.
I’m really here! I’m going to see him in seconds!

I lifted my hand to knock.

After three quick raps, I stood back, my heart banging hard against my ribs and a goofy grin on my face. I hadn’t seen him in a month—I was going to fucking pounce.

Nothing.

I knocked again, a little harder this time.

Nothing.

What the hell? He’d buzzed me in, hadn’t he? So he knew someone was coming up. I tried the door—locked.

Frowning, I knocked a third time, five sharp staccato beats.

“OK, coming!” called a voice from inside.

My jaw fell open. What the hell?

The voice was female.

As was the body that opened the door.

Female. With wet hair. And wearing a robe.

I stared at her, unblinking.

“Oh.” Her perfectly plucked eyebrows rose in surprise. “I thought you were Lucas. Can I help you?”

My eyes dropped to the towel in her hands. She brought it to the ends of her long hair, squeezing the last of the moisture out. It was a navy and white striped towel. I knew that towel. I used that towel after every shower I took here.

That was my fucking towel.

My neck was hot under my coat. “Is Lucas here?”

“No, he ran out real quick. Was he expecting you?” The girl, a knockout in her mid-twenties with blue eyes, clear skin, and long strawberry blond hair, looked quizzically at my suitcase.

My blood began to simmer. Here I was in my slouchy wool hat with the floppy flower on the side, all bundled up in my winter jacket and snow boots, red-nosed from the cold, and Lucas had the fucking Little Mermaid in his apartment, fresh from a shower, her cheeks flushed with warmth. Holding
my
towel.

Who the hell was she?

I breathed hard through my nostrils. “Can I ask who you are?”

The girl looked taken aback for a moment, but answered, “I’m Jessica. And you are?”

The name hit me like a punch in the teeth.
Jessica.
Fucking Jessica was here, in his apartment.

No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening.
Jessica
was not in the Spontaneous Plan.

“I’m Mia.” I waited for her to react to the name—surely Lucas had mentioned me.

She looked blank.

No fucking way.
He hadn’t told her about me?

“Mia Devine,” I went on, bristling. “His…his…” The word
girlfriend
was stuck in my throat. But I
was
his girlfriend, wasn’t I? We’d been in love for eight months! Just because he didn’t like labels didn’t mean I couldn’t use them.

“His…” Jessica prompted, gesturing with one hand, like
get on with it, I got a blowout to get to here
.

“His girlfriend.” Defiantly, I stood a little taller and looked her in the eye. “I live in Detroit.”

She looked surprised. “Lucas has a girlfriend in Detroit?” The way she said it made it sound like he might have girlfriends in other cities as well, and if I didn’t hate her before, I did now.

“Yes. He does. He’s never mentioned me?”

She shrugged. “No, although I’ve only been here a couple days.”

What? A couple
days
? And he hadn’t mentioned me? My heart collapsed like a shack in an earthquake.

Was Lucas cheating on me?

No, wait. Something had to be off here.

“You’ve been…back in New York a couple days? Or actually
here
…” I said slowly, pointing into the apartment over her shoulder, “a few days.”

“Here. In the apartment.”

Was it my imagination, or did she look a bit smug as she cleared that up? And I noticed she didn’t call it his apartment, but
the
apartment. My chest caved even deeper.

“I see. And when will Lucas be back?”

“Any minute now. Would you like to come in and wait? I just got out of the shower so I need to get dressed, but you’re welcome to wait in the living room.” Her sweet expression was as fake as her tone, which told me that she was enjoying my squirmy disbelief as well as being the wet girl in a robe telling me I was welcome in my own boyfriend’s apartment.

Briefly, I debated clubbing her with my suitcase and making a run for it, but I was dying to get at Lucas and demand an explanation. A long distance relationship required a certain amount of trust, which I’d thought we had, but this seemed in gross violation of that.

“Thanks,” I said flatly. She stood aside while I dragged my suitcase across the threshold and slammed the door behind me.

Then she cleared her throat. “Well. I’ll be in the bedroom.” She went into the bedroom—Lucas’s bedroom!—and shut the door behind her.

His bedroom? What the actual fuck? Jessica was staying at his apartment and he hadn’t told me about it? How long was he planning to keep it a secret? And why hadn’t he told her about
me
? Was he sleeping with her? He couldn’t be. He just couldn’t be. That kind of duplicity seemed totally unlike him, but I was beginning to wonder how well I actually knew him. How well could anybody know a person when you dated long distance like we did? Sure, we talked a lot, but I only heard the things Lucas chose to tell me.

My arms and legs shook as I whipped off my hat and gloves and shoved them into my purse. I don’t deal with surprises well—not even
good
surprises, and this one sucked. And while I wasn’t one to assume the worst in any situation, the evidence here was not in my favor. Feeling pervy but justified, I decided to sniff around for proof he was cheating.

The apartment was one long rectangle, only about eight feet across at its widest point in the front. The bedroom was at the back, the kitchen area was in the middle, and a bathroom was opposite the kitchen. Along one wall was a couch, and opposite that was a fireplace, which was no longer functional and instead filled with books. I searched around the couch, hoping to see evidence of sheets or blankets, a pillow—anything to suggest he was sleeping there and not next to her in his bed. Nothing.

With one eye on the bedroom door, I went into the bathroom and looked in the trash. Disgusted with myself, I peeked in it for evidence of condom wrappers—or worse, spent condoms. The bag held nothing but a cotton swab and pink plastic razor. Somehow it was almost as damning as a condom.

She shaved! Is she expecting to get close to someone?

And he could have taken out the trash already today. It could have held a dozen spent condoms, for all I knew.

Fuming, I went back out front and paced in front of the fireplace, arms crossed over my chest. Every time I inhaled, I could smell her goddamn perfume, and it was nauseatingly sweet.

Click—a key turned in the lock. I watched the handle turn and the door open, then looked into Lucas’s eyes as he entered the apartment.

They registered joyful shock. “Mia!” He set down a bottle of wine—
a fucking bottle of wine???
—on a little side table and rushed toward me. “What are you doing here?”

My heart beat faster at the sight of him—he looked so good, so familiar. The messy dark hair, the warm brown eyes, the black wool coat I’d helped him shop for last time I was here. And I could picture every inch of his skin underneath it. Part of me was dying to embrace him, but I felt something unfamiliar too—anger. We’d never really had a fight.

I stepped back, putting my hands out. “I came here to surprise you.”

“You did?” The joy slid off his face as he glanced at my outstretched arms. It was replaced by confusion, which turned to panic when a hair dryer whooshed on in the bedroom.

I looked pointedly over his shoulder in the direction of the noise and crossed my arms again. “Care to explain?”

Lucas closed his eyes briefly and exhaled. “Fuck. Jessica. I was going to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” I shrugged. “That you’re back together? That you’re fucking her? That she’s moved in again?”

“No, no. Of course we’re not back together.” He tried to put his hands on my shoulders, but I moved away, putting the narrow trunk serving as a coffee table in between us.

“Then why is she here?”

“She’s here because we’re friends. Her tour ended, she just got back into the city and had nowhere to stay while she looks for an apartment. She asked if she could crash here, and I couldn’t turn her down.”

Oh, yes, you could have.
“Really. And you couldn’t tell me about her because…”

The color in Lucas’s face deepened and he ran his fingers through his mop of dark, wavy hair, which I usually found attractive.

OK, I still found it attractive, which only made me more irritated.

“Because I didn’t want you to get upset,” he said. “It’s not for very long, and I know how you get about her. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I’m more upset that you kept this from me than I would have been if you’d told me! I know you feel guilty about the way things ended between you guys, but that doesn’t mean you have to invite her to live with you!” I was loud enough that he brought a finger to his lips.

“Shh. I don’t want her to hear you.”

Anger sizzled beneath my skin. “You don’t want her to
know
about me, either. She said you hadn’t mentioned me. Why is that?”

Lucas held up his hands. “Don’t make more of this than it is, Mia. She’s just a friend now, but we have history, and I don’t want her knowing the intimate details of my romantic life. I chose not to share you with her because it’s a private relationship.”

“Bullshit!” I exploded. “You didn’t tell her because you didn’t want her to know you weren’t single anymore! You wanted to keep your options open.”

Lucas groaned. “Now you’re just talking crazy.”

“Crazy?” I pointed toward the bedroom. “She’s sleeping in your bed, Lucas. Showering in your shower. Sharing a very cozy little space with you. It doesn’t get more intimate than that. I’m not crazy, I’m hurt! And angry!”