Reckless Abandon (12 page)

“Really? Bacon?” I tease.

He jumps at the sound of my voice. “Calm down,” he laughs, “I’ve got your ‘I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-meat’ crap right over here.” He slides a plate across the island that’s piled with fruit and my fake bacon.

“Aw, you remembered,” I exaggerate while batting my eyelashes. I don’t eat this overly processed crap, either. But I’ll make an exception for Adrian; he’s trying.

“You’re unforgettable. How’d you sleep?” He crosses over to me and kisses the back of my neck as I settle myself onto a stool.

When breakfast is over, he asks the question I was hoping to somehow avoid. “What are your plans for today and tonight?”

“Well, since Josh and Monica are away, I told them I’d hang out with Regan, a fiddle player for the house band, and watch some of the acts with him tonight.”

One act.
There’s only one ac
t
.
In an uncharacteristic mark of betrayal, I feel heat spread through my cheeks and ears.

Adrian takes our dishes to the sink. “Isn’t Cavanaugh playing tonight?”

“Yeah. I told Josh and Bo it was fine because they were acting all weird about him still playing, but the crowd adores him. I said I’d be there, but I wouldn’t sing with him. Boundaries.” I shrug and smile into my coffee mug.

“Sing with him if you want.” Adrian shrugs back and loads the dishwasher.

I’m instantly annoyed at his assumption that I said I wouldn’t sing because of
him
and not because of my own comfort level. His “permission” has me fuming.

“I didn’t tell him I wouldn’t because of you; therefore, I don’t really need your permission to do it.” I slide off the stool and head to the bedroom to dress.

“Ember,” Adrian calls after me down the hall.

“Look, Adrian,” I say as he enters the bedroom, “this past week was really hard. I was as professional as I could be while working fifty feet from someone who broke my heart. He says we can be friends, but I don’t think he means it in the same way that I meant it when I agreed. I had an amazing time with you last night, and I don’t need you fucking it up by trying to dictate my actions.” I sit on the bed in a huff.

“November, I didn’t mean that. I just meant do what you want. Don’t worry about me, him—or Monica, for that matter. Just do you, Blue.”  He sits softly next to me.

“Oh. Sorry.” The heat leaves my face.

“Want me to come tonight?”

Is he serious?

“No. I just...I haven’t said anything to Monica about you, even though she suspects something’s going on anyway, and she’ll find out if we were there together. It’s just...I kind of like having you to myself right now. I need to not have people in my business for a while.” My ramble is honest, and Adrian’s eyes show me he appreciates it.

“I get it. Here’s the deal, you come see me as many Fridays as you can on your way home from Concord until we’re comfortable with whatever’s going on here, and I’ll play by your rules.”

Two men, two deals. God, if you exist, help me.

“Deal.”

“You want to seal that with a kiss?” Adrian lays me back on the satin comforter and pushes my legs open with his knee.

“I want to seal that with a hell of a lot more than a kiss.” I grab his face as we explore the beginnings of...whatever this is.

Walking into Finnegan’s, I’m relieved I beat Bo here. I need to find a place and settle into the scenery as I navigate our “friendship.”

“Ember, over here!” Regan waves from a table directly in front of the stage.

Oh good ...

“What’s with the up close and personal seating?” I tease as I sit next to him.

“I’ve heard this guy’s good, and I want to be able to hear him. How was your week?”

I lean back in my chair, trying my best to come up with a description of the week. I worked rather cordially with Bo, was verbally and emotionally assaulted by Ainsley, and was asked to be Bo’s friend. However, I ha
d an over-the-top amazing night
and
morning with Adrian, and now I’m sitting next to a hot ex-Pat waiting to watch Bo play.

“Interesting.” I take a sip of my beer.

“November?” A familiar but out-of-place voice cuts through the bar chatter.

I turn around to find Rachel Cavanaugh walking toward me with a hopeful, but cautious smile. Relief bathes my nerves. I admit I was worried Bo would try to pull a stunt to try to stay the night, but seeing his sister here means he’s playing it smart.

“Rae? I didn’t know you were coming. Awesome!” I hug her and pull out a chair. “This is Regan Kane, he’s a wicked fiddle player. Regan, this is Bo’s sister, Rachel.”

“Please, call me Rae.” She morphs her lips into an endearing smile and shakes his hand.

“Rae, it’s a pleasure. Can I get you a beer?”

Rae drops her hand and keeps smiling. “No, thank you, I don’t drink. I’ll take some water, though.” Regan nods and heads to the bar.

“I’m happy you’re here. Was this your idea or his? Where is he?” I scan the area behind her.

“Mine. I refuse to let him make an ass out of himself. He’s on probation since that little maneuver on your first day at DROP. He went in the back entrance.” She rolls her eyes at what I assume is his version of what happened in the diner. “Anyway
,” she continues, “where in the
hell
have you been hiding that hottie?” Rae nods her head toward Regan.

“Ha! I just met him last week. He’s our drummer’s cousin.”

“Way to keep him for yourself.” Rae stares at me in mock accusation, and it causes me to blush. It’s clear she feels the same sisterly connection between us that I instantly felt upon my first meeting with her.

“Rae, to be honest, I assumed you had a boyfriend.”

Regan returns in time to hear her response. “No, guys my age are idiots. Thanks for the water, Regan. How old are you?”

“You’re welcome, and, twenty-five.”

“Perfect.” She grins and brings the straw to her lips.

My eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? I thought you were, like, thirty.”

Regan laughs into his beer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re just refreshingly mature.”

Before he can respond, the bartender takes the stage and announces Bo. My fingers tingle, and I feel slightly dizzy. I notice that Rae is staring at me and I’m thankful that Regan isn’t. I tilt my chin to the stage to somehow reassure her that everything’s fine. Bo comes out wearing black jeans and a green t-shirt. The green t-shirt he told me reminded him of my eyes. I swallow hard as he sits on the stool, and, without saying a word, starts strumming.

Every feeling from the first night I heard him play flies through me like a drunken seagull. I take several deep breaths as he makes his way through his original work, praying that what I’m feeling isn’t regret. The strings, his fingers, the warm bourbon tone kissing the microphone—they’re all lulling me into his presence, his being.

My phone vibrates against my thigh, startling me away from this apparent Bo-asis. I see that it’s Monica, so I click “ignore” since she’s probably just calling to see if I showed, and continue staring at Bo. I’m not even hearing what he’s singing, my brain seems to not want to let m
e
see
and
hear him sing at the same time. It’s one hell of a defense mechanism. When my phone vibrates two more times, I decide to take the call outside.

“Mon, what’s going on? Is everything OK?” The warm breeze resuscitates my logic.

“What the hell took you so long to answer?”

“I’m at Finnegan’s with Regan and actually Ra—” I’m cut off by a squeal.

“Whatever, Josh proposed!” Her voice is pure bliss.

“
Wha
t
?
Oh my God, Monica, that’s amazing! Tell me you said yes!” The parking lot drowns under the happy tears rising past my irises.

“Of
course
I said yes!”

We meet each other sniff-for-sniff in tears of happiness and congratulations.

“Details, please!” I squeak through tears.

“Well, Josh helped my dad grill our food last night and asked his permission then.”

“Asked his permission? Oh my God, how cute!”

“Right? Then the four of us went out on the boat this morning. Right in the middle of the ocean,” her voice clips for a second, “Josh got down on one knee ...”

This is so Josh and Monica I could be sick, in the happiest way possible.

“OK,” I prompt, “what’d he say? How’d he ask?”

“He said that the love he felt for me couldn’t be measured, not even by all the water in the sea beneath us,” she sniffs back more tears, “and he said he wanted to spend forever with me. Rocky seas and all.”

“Oh, Monica.” I’m openly sobbing in front of Finnegan’s, but my smile prevents people from asking me if I’m OK. I’m perfect.

Ten minutes later, after talking dates and girly details, I nearly forget where I am when I hear applause coming from inside.

“Shit, Mon, Bo’s set is done, and I’ve left Regan in there with Rae this whole time. I’m so freaking happy for you and can’t wait to see you two. Will you be home tomorrow?” I quickly wipe under my eyes as people start filing out of the bar.

“Yes, we’ll be home tomorrow. How was the set?” 

That’s not what she wants to know.

“Everything’s fine, enjoy the rest of your weekend. I love you. Tell Josh I love him, too. Bye.”

I lean my head back against the wall and take in what’s just happened
.
 

She said yes. They’re getting married. Forever.

When the exodus slows and I realize my party is still inside, I turn and head back through the door where, of course, I find Regan and Bo chatting like old friends at our table. My fake smile is getting a workout these days, and I beg its appearance once more as I sit in the chair across from Bo.

“Sorry about that, Monica called.”

“What happened? Your eyes are all red. Why were you crying?” Rae leans forward and puts her hand on my arm. Bo and Regan stop their quiet conversation and stare at me.

“Nothing.” I smile. “Josh proposed to Monica today. They’re getting married.” I smile as salty tears roll off my lips and into my beer while I try to swallow.

“That’s great, good for them,” Bo chimes in, a genuine smile on his lips. His eyes, however, are steeped in sadness.

Yeah, maybe that could have been us.

Rachel clearing her throat is the only indication I have that my eyes have been locked with Bo’s in a silent waltz of melancholy.

“It is great.” I try to recover from my social fumble. “They’re perfect for each other.”

“Ember, Regan says you guys are going to try some Irish rock stuff? I agree with him that you can totally pull it off.” Bo is talking to me like his friend.
Friends
. I look at Rae who shrugs and smiles.

“Uh, yeah, thanks. We haven’t really tried anything yet, but it’ll be fun to learn something new.”

This will go down in history as the most awkward conversation I’ve ever had. Ever.

“Hopefully you’ll play up there, too,” Bo says. His eyes carry hopefulness, familiarity, and pleads of a connection he clearly hopes still exists. He’s my musical soul mate. He knows it, I know it, and he’s trying to let Regan know it.

“What do you play?” Regan sounds surprised.

I shake my knee under the table nervously. Regan knows Bo’s my ex-boyfriend, and that it’s recent. I can’t explain that everything I love about playing the guitar is wrapped up in Bo Cavanaugh. I can’t explain why I don’t want to play anymore, even though I thought I’d be able to—singing’s hard enough knowing he’s not the one backing me up.

“Nothing. I don’t play anything.” Sweat is popping up along my hairline and the dizziness has returned. I get up and rush to the bathroom.

And I throw up.

No way can I be friends with Bo. What I felt when he was singing was far from friendship.
It’s not his fault
, I think between heaves on the cold floor. He seems to really be trying to maintain a pleasant atmosphere, since apparently, we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other. I lean back against the stall door, contemplating making Lost Dog my new hang out, when the bathroom door opens.

“Ember?” Rachel speaks quietly as she knocks on my stall.

This is mortifying.

I wipe tears and saliva from my face as I stand to open the door.

“Sorry.” I sneak past her and head for the sink in an attempt to clean up my streaked and splotchy face. “I just had a lot of emotions churn through me in the last half hour. They asked to be deposited there.” I chuckle as I point to the toilet.

Rae doesn’t smile. Instead, she comes up behind me and wraps an arm around my waist. “It’s hard for him, too, you know. He was a mess the whole ride down. I’m surprised he didn’t pull over to throw up himself.” She takes a deep breath and meets my gaze through the mirror before she continues, “This is the only time I’m going to say this because I care about you too much as a friend to push it, but, he loves you, Ember. It’s not going to stop anytime soon, no m
atter what I say to him, or how
you
act. I think you love him, too, though I’d never tell him that. He’s willing to be your friend if that’s what it takes to stay in your life. Let him be your friend.”