Take a Bow (The Perfect Plans Series Book 2) (33 page)

“I know what he looked like!” I grab the pillow behind my head and plough her with it - right in the face.

Grabbing hers, she hits me back. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, cookie. Do I need to remind you of all the pillow fights you’ve lost?”

“No,” I grumble, flinging my pillow behind my head, resuming my cross-armed pouting. “You only win because your boobs are like balloon armor. It’s like trying to win a fight in a bouncy castle.”

“Jealously is a sick disease. Feel better, bitch,” she bounces on top of me, crushing me with her oversized cantaloupes, winking as she pushes up to sit on the side of the bed. “So, did you happen to get a chance to discuss my wedding in between your stupid ass bickering - as in will he be attending as your date?”

“Oh, yeah,” I roll my eyes. “It was the most prominent topic of discussion. Ouch!” I yelp when she flicks my boob. “Seriously?”

“Did that hurt? Well, how do you think you’re going to feel if he shows up at the wedding - on his own?”

“Maybe he won’t.”

“And, maybe he will. He received his own invitation from Thomas, Aby…and he
is
in town. Just sayin’.”

“It doesn’t matter how I’ll feel. It’s your special day. I’m not about to let my issues cast a shadow on that,” I smile, gladly allowing my feelings of true happiness for my best friend to wash over my pitiful state. “Besides, I’ll be too busy trying to keep you from running away from the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“Oh, running won’t be an issue, sweet cheeks, there’s nothing I want more in this world than to marry Thomas. However,” she purses her lips, “…some Vicodin might help.”

“YOU DO REALIZE that if I had known we would have to
walk
somewhere to get coffee this morning, I would have stayed at Thomas’s,” Stacey mutters, turning her head to get the attention of my gaze. “He has this great new invention at his place, it’s called a
coffee machine
.”

“The fresh air and exercise is good for you.”

“Oh, honey, I get plenty of exercise,” she winks. “And fresh air my ass - it’s cold as fuck. Did you see it? I just farted the cutest little snowflake,” she nudges me midstride, rolling her eyes.

“Shut up,” I playfully shove her. “You didn’t have to come, you know. I would have gladly gone myself, and would have brought your coffee back to you - despite the fact that you wouldn’t deserve it.”

She gasps dramatically, “I’m highly insulted. I’m getting married tomorrow - it’s both the most wonderful and most terrifying event of my life - I
soooo
would have deserved it.”

“You’re so dramatic,” I roll my eyes, laughing half-heartedly.

Reaching the flat, she turns me to face her, offering a loving, though slightly patronizing, head tilt. “Me thinks you’re misplacing pent up frustration, love. Alex is the one you want to…Oh,
hello
,” Stacey - no longer looking at, or talking to me - steps towards what’s pulled her attention.

Turning, my breath hitches in an uncomfortable lump at the sight of Andrew, locking up and turning from his door.

“I’m Stacey Stevenson,” she’s already in his face, “…and you must be
the
Andrew Davies I’ve heard so much about.”

Ugh
.

Andrew shakes her jabbed-out hand with a slightly uncomfortable smile. It’s certainly not the wide, brilliant smile he usually dons, and when his eyes meet mine, I’m instantly assailed with why.
Shit
.

We haven’t seen each other since the ‘kiss’. And though I dreaded the next run-in a little myself, deep down I was hoping that it would be as though it never happened.

“
The
Stacey Stevenson I’ve heard so much about,” he finally replies with a wink, and for a moment I think I see my fun, carefree friend again - but just for a moment.
Double
Shit
. Oh,
yeah
…he’s uncomfortable. He’s
never
uncomfortable -
it’s Andrew, for shit sake
. This entire situation sucks balls.
No
. It sucks donkey dicks. “It’s very nice to meet you, Stacey,” he adds, his gaze skirting my way for another dose of awkward vibrations.

Pursing my lips, I attempt to ride the uncomfortable wave, noting the eerie silence of it threatening to drown all three of us at once. “Stacey is getting married tomorrow,” I blurt the obvious, my pitch high and absolutely edged with the impending shriek of swallowing a mouthful of water.

“Yes, that’s right,” Andrew jumps in, nodding off the tight line of his lips. “Congratulations, Stacey.”

“Ummm…thank you,” she replies, her gaze flickering between Andrew and I repeatedly in the seconds of silence. “We actually celebrated my bachelorette last night. Lot’s of fun, dancing and tequila - we were drunk as whores. That was two nights in a row for you, wasn’t it, Abs?” she adds, winning herself an inconspicuous pinch of the back of her arm from me.

“Yes,” I manage through my clenched jaw, glaring at her through a grimaced smile, “It was fun watching Stacey offer up her little black book to the next willing slut of the centur…”

“Drink up, Abs,” she cuts me off with a smile, directing her teasing attention to Andrew, “I had to drag her out for coffee - her double hangover lollipop is triple dipped in grumpy this morning.”

“I’m not grumpy,” I assure Andrew, shaking my head with a smile as though I have to explain myself.
What the hell is wrong with me
? Oh, right, this sucks donkey ass, and my best friend is an added teasing pain in its big fat cheeks. “We have a lot to do, though, Stace. Maybe we should head inside and get started on that list.” Number one being slap my best friend in the head for making an awkward situation even worse with her
so not funny
shenanigans.

“Well, actually,” her tone is familiarly conspiratorial, “…I do have to run inside and call my future hubby,” she turns quickly, opening the door. “You two can catch up.”

“Ahh…”

“It was super to finally meet you, Andrew,” Stacey winks, dismissing my attempt to dispute her wicked plan to leave us alone.

“You too,” he replies.

She flashes an over-wide smile, her gaze dancing in devilish delight, before rushing inside, closing the door quickly.
Damn her.

“I should really head in too,” I begin after painful, torturing seconds of silence. “I have a lot to do before the wedding,” I add with a forced smile, turning away to reach for the doorknob.

“Aby, wait…”

My lips purse in a thin line as I close my eyes against the dreaded pull of his request. Sneaking a breath of composure, I spin on my heels to face him.

“We can’t keep avoiding each other, can we?”

“
Are
we avoiding each other?” I retort, cautiously gauging how he truly feels about the whole thing.

He doesn’t answer right away, allowing the panic to build within me.
Just great
.
Lose a boyfriend
and
a friend
. I look down to avoid letting him see it in my eyes, not wanting him to misconstrue my feelings. As much as it saddens me that my friendship with Andrew has taken a slippery turn, it pales in comparison to what losing Alex is doing to me.

The thought of him imagining what I did with Andrew tears through me. Alex has to know that it was nothing. It meant nothing. And the first step is to make sure both Andrew and I are clear on that as well. No more pussy-footing around the unavoidable.

Looking up to face him, our eyes lock uncomfortably in the silence before we both attempt to speak, our words overlapping, swallowed by uncomfortable air. I look down momentarily once more, biting my lip before returning to his gaze.

His broad, white-toothy grin flashes a signal of welcome relief, and I smile as well, staying quiet to let him go first.

“It was a mistake,” he begins. “That’s all. Let’s just chalk it up to a…
rather
awkward test of friendship. The key word being
friendship
, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” I smile, more than relieved. I just want to forget that entire night ever happened - well, that’s not exactly possible right now where Alex is concerned, but it’s a more than welcome start on this end. And I’m jumping on the bandwagon with a serious giddy-up distraction, “
Speaking
of friendship,” I can’t keep the glimmer of plotting from flashing across my happily relaxed face, “…my good friend, Emily…”

“Uh oh,” he laughs. “Are you about to set me up?”

“Only because I believe it’s a
good
set up. Trust me.”

“I do,” his smile is genuine.

“Good.”

“Are
we
good?”

“We’re good,” I mentally make a check off the bottom of my shit-storm list.

“Are
you
good?”

A loaded question. My insides scream no, but I can’t ignore the sudden pull of my heart telling me that I
can
be. One simple phrase floats through my mind, echoing through every pore…
Fight for him
. And that’s exactly what I intend to do. “You know what,” I finally answer with a smile, “I think I will be.”

FIGHT FOR HIM…
You’re damn right I will.

There’s just one problem.

I’m T-minus twenty-four hours away from my best friend’s wedding. A wedding that has been less than two weeks in the making.
Where, exactly, can I fit in this epiphany?
I scour over the items on the to-do list, the shit unchecked like a kick in the teeth.

“Abs, you look like your brain is about to explode. Should I be concerned?” Stacey asks, walking towards me from the stairs.

“Ahhh,” I look up to meet her painfully twisted gaze. “No,” the word is far too high-pitched and perky to pass for believable, so I offer a wide forced smile. “But, we do have a lot to do today, where would you like to start?” I look back to the list, preparing to make suggestions.

“Is this your way of avoiding telling me about how it went with your Ken Doll neighbor?”

“Actually no,” I slap her arm, ignoring her over-exaggerated open-mouthed shock, her arm darting to rub it away, “But thanks for the reminder that you deserved that. Everything is fine with Andrew.”

“Well, you’re welcome, bitch. At least that’s one thing off your dumbass plate. And you know what?” she grabs the list from me, “Maybe that quote wasn’t the wrong one after all.”

“What quote?” I look up, confused.

“The one I used last night. I think you should really think about it right now.”

“And you think calling me stupid again today is going to help us get through that list how, exactly?”

“Not that quote,
stupid
,” she grimaces sarcastically. “The one about painful endings being the start of new beginnings.”

“Okay, Stace,” I roll my eyes. “Even sober I don’t have any idea what you’re trying to say. And we don’t have time for riddles and games,” I stand from the sofa, snatching the list back, “We have too much to do.”

“No,
you
,” she points a finger in my face. “You need to pick up the damn phone and just call Alex already.”

“And say what?” I shout, begging for the answers to make everything better. I’m dying, with every minute that passes since seeing him again, touching him again. I’m
dying
.

Looking down, I swallow the lump in my throat, attempting to seal the well of tears that are building. The sunlight flickers through an opening in the clouds outside, its unshielded rays hitting Stacey through the window, her beautiful engagement ring sparkling. My best friend is getting married tomorrow, and
I’m
the only thing she’s worried about. After everything she’s done to be there for me.

Shame and guilt seep into the cocktail that fills my broken heart. “Stace…”

“Please, Aby,” she pleads. “Call him.”

“I want to, I just don’t know what to say…yet.”

“It will come to you,” she picks up my cell phone from coffee table, holding it towards me.

I just stare at it. My brain completely shut down, my broken heart suddenly racing at the thought of hearing his voice. An image of him hanging up on me stabs my chest.

“Fine,” Stacey snaps, opening the contact list to find his name, hitting ‘talk’ before shoving the phone in my face. “You can say something, or hang up on him. You decide,” she releases it just short of my grasp.