Thanks For Last Night: A Guys Who Got Away Novel Page 11

  12

  Teagan

  I take a half-day on Friday, powering through the morning with a flurry of scheduled posts of articles, lists, and tips we’ve run this past week and want to highlight again.

  That includes a popular column on Made Connections, a relatively new dating app that’s been taking the scene by storm, since it lets strangers post about someone interesting they’ve seen in passing, or perhaps met briefly but never exchanged numbers with, like Bryn and Logan, who got together exactly that way.

  Our site runs a weekly story about couples who’ve met through the app. A guy and a gal who spotted each other on the Whole Foods escalator, one going up, the other going down. A man who chatted with a woman in yoga class, exchanging tips on meditation and wine, only to be interrupted by a fire drill. A painfully shy UPS driver who crushed so hard on a regular customer but couldn’t bring himself to ask her out till he got on the app.

  He’s still shy, but that’s okay. He found his person—and he said falling in love taught him he didn’t have to be shy about expressing his heart to her.

  Talk about swooning.

  Their story is the sweetest, and they’re getting married in a few weeks.

  I schedule all the social media posts for those pieces, and then a few more links to scientific articles—since science is awesome. Studies on things like the chemistry of love and keeping the spark alive when you’ve been with someone for a while are vital to the site’s reputation as both a fun and intelligent resource for dating tips.

  As my half-day nears its end, I check in with Summer, shooting her a text to see how her piece on dates for married couples is going.

  * * *

  Summer: This is a dream come true—plotting dates for my sexy-as-sin husband. I love it.

  * * *

  Teagan: All righty, then. Carry on.

  * * *

  Summer: We will! And I promise the piece will be epic. Want a hint?

  * * *

  Teagan: Do I? Hmm. Wait, of course I do!

  * * *

  Summer: Remember how my misadventures started with The Dating Pool?

  * * *

  Teagan: With your ill-fated letter. Yes, of course.

  * * *

  Summer: Yes. But in retrospect, was it so ill-fated?

  * * *

  Teagan: Considering you’re grotesquely, disgustingly, obscenely happy to be married, I’d say no, it wasn’t ill-fated at all.

  * * *

  Summer: Exactly! So that’s your hint. And I’ll be raining down likes, clicks, and shares with my plans.

  * * *

  Teagan: Oh, baby! You’re talking my language. See you tomorrow!

  * * *

  I close the text app, say goodbye to Matthew, Rosario, and the rest of the team, then head out of the office to meet up with Bryn at a nearby cruelty-free nail salon that smells like a garden.

  It also serves wine—another reason I like Daisy Nails.

  Bryn arrives at the same time and gives me a hug.

  “Does the boss know you’re skipping out early?” she asks me clandestinely, only after whipping her head from side to side to check who might be listening.

  “No. Please don’t tell Logan when you see him tonight, okay?”

  She narrows her eyes, then gives me an I’ve got you nod. “It’ll be our secret.”

  Bryn’s boyfriend bought The Dating Pool a year ago as part of his media firm, and he oversees it as the CEO. Technically, he’s my boss, even though I’m not his direct report. But since he signs all our paychecks, he’s yet another way we’re all tangled up together. We’re like a pile of puppies on top of each other, and I don’t want to disturb the pack’s slumber.

  Bryn and I settle into the cushy leather pedicure chairs, dipping our feet into the warm foot tubs and catching up on our week as Daisy brings us glasses of chardonnay.

  “Next week, Logan and I leave for our train trip across Canada,” Bryn says between sips.

  “I want pics and souvenirs. I bet it’ll be amazing.”

  “I can’t wait. I do love a road trip of sorts.”

  “Even better since no one has to drive,” I add, then swallow some of the white wine.

  “Exactly,” she says, and then she shares the latest on some of the new clients at her consulting firm, including her work with the sex-toy company Joy Delivered. That’s her flagship client, and I know her work with them well, since Joy Delivered and The Dating Pool share content—we provide dating tips for their site and Joy Delivered offers suggestions on battery-operated friends for the spicy side of our site.

  “And how is everything going with the foundation and your fundraising goals?”

  “Great,” I tell her as the petite blonde who runs the shop asks me to take my right foot out of the water. “Ransom’s event was perfect timing. It helped me hit some of my benchmarks for the year, and the board already approved additional funds to give away for the second half of the year, so that makes me very happy.”

  She lifts her glass to me. “You are both a social media rock star and a fundraising rock star. Your parents are insanely proud—you know that, right?”

  I love when she refers to them in the present tense. She does that sometimes, and it’s because we both try, in our own ways, to keep the memories alive. Bryn’s mom was big on sayings and adages, and Bryn often leans on those in trying times. I try to keep the passions of my parents alive by honoring my dad’s dying wish—to give so much of what he earned as a billionaire businessman away.

  Live well and boldly, but give back too, he told me all throughout his life, but also when he knew he was dying.

  I choke up briefly as that time seems to smack me out of nowhere. But then, the memory of his advice doesn’t entirely hurt. They are, indeed, words to live by.

  “Your mom is proud of you too,” I tell my best friend as I lift my glass to hers and clink across the space between us.

  She smiles at me, soft and genuine, then a spark of mischief enters her eyes. “Speaking of perfect timing and Ransom . . .”

  I shoot her a curious look, daring her to continue. “What about Ransom and me?”

  “Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?”

  I roll my eyes because that’s easier than digging into the muddy ground of whatever Ransom and I are. Are we anything? Tomorrow might feel like a date to me, but the invitation was to hang. I’d do well to remember that. A hang is not a date.

  “Bryn, we’re not dating. We’re not together,” I say, as much to remind myself as her. I need the reminders more and more these days. I need to stay on the straight and narrow.

  “I know, but it feels like you could be . . .” she says, trailing off in a happy tone.

  A laugh bursts from my chest. “What does that even mean? We could be?”

  Setting her glass down, she reaches across the space between our chairs and places her hand on my arm. “I see you guys together. I just do. And I want you to know I’m fine with you going for it. We all are.”

  Her permission tugs on my heart. Pulls and yanks on that organ in a way I’m not sure I want to be pulled and yanked. “I know that. You’ve been trying to set me up with him for some time now,” I say, trying to make light of her kind words because I’m not entirely sure I’m ready to face what her blessing truly means. Especially because I don’t know that there’s anything to go for. “But we aren’t really a thing.”

  She holds up her hand, moving her fingers together like a mouth. “Blah, blah, blah. Yes, you are.”’

  “No, we’re not,” I fire back.

  “Teagan.” She says it as cutting as a laser, like she can see through me. And she likely can.

  “Bryn.”

  “I don’t want to be the reason you don’t explore options with him,” she says. “And I think I am. I think we all are. I know your biggest worry is that dating Ransom might cause our friendship house of cards to crumble.”

  The gentleness in her voice makes my throat tighten
with emotion. But who is it for? I’m not sure, honestly. I’ve tried to keep emotion at bay for so long. Warding off feelings is safer than having them. When you keep them behind the ramparts, you can’t be hurt again and again.

  “I can tell you feel something for him,” Bryn continues. “If you explore that and it goes badly, or if you explore it and it peters out, we’re going to be okay. All of us. Logan and me, Summer and Oliver, Fitz and Dean. We’ll be fine, and we’ll still be here. For both of you.”

  Fine.

  But would I be fine? And how will I ever know? “It would be awkward. It would be weird,” I say, my voice wobbly, as I try to stay the course.

  Living behind the walls is easier. The walls are fortified.

  Bryn smiles kindly and squeezes my arm. “Life is awkward. Life is weird. We’ll manage. I don’t want to stand in the way of your happiness with anyone.”

  I meet her gaze, seeing so much friendship, so much family in her eyes. It knocks loose some of the fear inside me, casts it aside. Maybe frees up some of my worries too. I don’t know what Ransom wants, but lately I have a sharper sense of what I want. I’m not sure I’m ready to pursue it, but perhaps I will if I can remove this one big obstacle. This fear. The one she’s freeing me of. Maybe I shouldn’t cling to it any longer. Maybe it’s time to let it go. So I ask, “Are you sure?”

  She nods decisively. “I’m positive. Don’t let us stand in the way. If you want to date him and it doesn’t work out, we will be fine. I promise.”

  I exhale, big and long, picturing possibilities, seeing options. They’re fuzzy, hazy, but they’re coming into focus. “I don’t know what I want,” I say, but as those words clip out, they don’t feel as true as they did a week ago. “And I don’t know what he wants either.”

  And that . . . that also doesn’t seem quite right.

  Bryn lifts a brow in curiosity, perhaps hearing the same uncertainty I do—perhaps feeling it too. “Is that true though? That you don’t know what you want?”

  I absorb her question, turning it over and inside out. As Daisy paints my toes a bright robin’s-egg blue, I picture tomorrow, and I start to see how I want it to unfold.

  I can see the chance I want to take.

  Coming back to the present, I turn to Bryn decisively. “Actually, I do know what I want.”

  And I proceed to tell her.

  13

  Ransom

  I am not the fifth wheel.

  No way.

  I’m so good with this setup. As I fiddle with my tie, waiting for Logan and Oliver along Fifth Avenue, I’m completely cool with heading into Central Park for the wedding with these guys and their women.

  Nothing weird about that—about me wandering in with two couples.

  Especially since I’m meeting Teagan at the event.

  When my friends arrive late Saturday afternoon for the nuptials, dressed in sharp shirts and slacks, Bryn and Summer by their sides, I do not feel like I need to be part of all this two-by-two Noah’s Arking. Nope. Not at all.

  “Looking good, Ransom,” Summer says approvingly as she surveys my attire.

  “Same to you—and that ugly git by your side.” As I take the teasing jab at Oliver, I think of Teagan and our conversation the other night. I imagine how, if she were here, she’d smile privately at me, knowing my language. Translating smack talk to English the way Tempest translates into ASL.

  She’d understand that Oliver’s a good bud. Since Fitz hooked me up with this crew, his friends have become my friends too.

  Oliver wiggles a brow. “In some areas of England, ‘ugly git’ is a compliment, so I’ll take that, thank you very much.”

  “Aww, I love you, my ugly git,” Summer teases.

  “I’m such a lucky ugly git,” he says, turning to drop a kiss onto his wife’s cheek.

  When he does that, my chest has the nerve to pinch.

  Whoa.

  What’s that about?

  Oliver can kiss his wife all he wants without me longing for that kind of affection.

  I don’t need to kiss someone on the cheek or hold hands like any of these lovebirds.

  I don’t wish for what they have. I swear I don’t.

  I roll my shoulders, shedding these strange, sudden twinges of . . . envy.

  There is no room for love-envy in my life.

  None whatsoever.

  Logan and Bryn stroll over, Logan knocking fists with me then glancing around. “Where’s Teagan?”

  Yeah, where is she? Why isn’t she here yet? Longest wait of my life.

  “She’ll be here in fifteen minutes,” I say quickly.

  At the same time, Bryn answers with “She’s on her way.”

  The simultaneous replies do not go unnoticed by Logan, who arches a brow, shooting me a sly look as the five of us wander into the park. “I’d expect Bryn to know what her best friend was up to, but I didn’t know you were so intimately acquainted with her schedule too,” he says.

  As the others walk ahead, I shrug like it’s no big deal, cool as a tomcat. “That’s when the wedding starts. In fifteen minutes.”

  He scoffs. “No, dude. In fifteen minutes, it’s four forty-five. The wedding starts at five. Being, you know, not dickheads, we all agreed to be here early for our friends getting hitched.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I’m here now.” My logic is crumbling, but I’ll hold tight to it. Hell, will I ever.

  “And you know exactly when Teagan is arriving,” he says, like he’s busting me.

  “Because we’re friends.” Maybe if I keep up the friend excuse, it will feel more true to me too. I’ll convince myself that’s the only reason I know when she’ll be here. It’s definitely not because I’ve been counting down the seconds until I see her again.

  The long, long seconds.

  I’m dying to see her.

  I can feel it in my chest, this clawing desire to set my eyes on her.

  It’s intense, and it’s terrifying.

  Logan sighs, shaking his head, then curls a hand over my shoulder. “Listen, I don’t pretend to know everything about women. Or to be an expert on love or second chances.”

  “But it sounds like you’re about to try and fake it,” I joke. But this is more deflection than affection. I’m not sure I’m in the mood to turn down the path of Smart Supportive Advice, and it seems he’s steering the car thataway.

  “Yeah, I am,” Logan agrees matter-of-factly. “Because I’ve learned something in the last two years. Something important. Life comes at you pretty quickly, and a lot of shit happens.” He stops in his tracks, letting the others go ahead. “My ex-wife cheated on me.”

  “I know that, man,” I say, sympathy pains spreading in my chest. His story isn’t the same as mine, but it’s on the same shelf in the bookstore, under the subgenre How to Be Fucked by Love. “I’m sure it must have sucked.”

  “It did. It was awful, and I felt like shit about myself. Doesn’t matter that my ex and I were growing apart. Doesn’t matter that I didn’t feel a crazy intense connection for her. It hurt, right here,” he says, tapping his sternum. “Made me question everything. Made me angry. Made me pissed.”

  My brow creases, my emotions latching on to those last words as I push back. “I’m not angry.”

  “I know that, man,” he says with a friendly pat on my shoulder. “I do. You’re a chill, laid-back dude.”

  “But . . .?”

  What’s he getting at?

  “But the thing is . . .” He pauses and takes a deep breath, fueling what he’s going to say next. “I want you to keep your mind open. I know your ex did a number on you, but that’s what exes do simply by being exes. At some point, we have to decide if we want to be defined by the hurts inflicted on us, or to move forward.”

  I bristle at the notion that I’m holding on to something. And dammit, I realize that bristling proves he’s at least somewhere close to the mark. He’s poking too close to a sore spot.

  “I’m happy, dude,” I say. It�
�s a reflex by now, like blocking a move on the ice. “I am.”

  “But you’re happier when you’re with Teagan,” he says, his eyes zeroed in on me.

  He’s not wrong, but should we all just do what makes us happy if it’s bad for us?

  No. That’s why you need rules. Why they put a Surgeon General’s warning on bottles of whiskey.

  “It’s too risky,” I say emphatically, then gesture to the stone walkway in front of us, the very one that’s taking us to our friends’ wedding. “Look around. We are all up in each other’s business. We hang out—you, me, Fitz, Oliver, Dean now. We’re all friends. And the women—they are too. Plus, you own the company where Teagan works. Bryn and Teagan are close friends, and if things ended badly between Teagan and me, your woman would logically side with Teagan and you’d be in a spot.”

  Logan simply shrugs. “And I’ll handle it. But what if it leads to happiness for you, man? Is that such a terrible chance to take?”

  I heave a sigh, scrubbing a hand across my jaw, trying to get him to feel the weight of the issue, how damn heavy it is. “This isn’t just about happiness. It’s about being smart. It’s about not putting yourself in a position where someone can break you. Not when you know better. Edie was my best friend from college. I crossed the friend-to-girlfriend line once, and look what happened. I was devastated when she ended it. She devastated me. I don’t want that again, so I’ve got a rule—don’t mess around with a woman who’s your friend.”

  He fixes me with a serious stare. “And by that same logic, I should never get married again, right?”

  I blink, parting my lips, stunned speechless by the utter wrongness of that remark. “No,” I insist. “You and Bryn are perfect for each other.”