“Wait,” she starts, turning to me. “Wasn’t that ex-girlfriend from high school, the one who stepped out with some other guy and broke your heart, named Addison?”
I don’t answer her. But I’m pretty sure she sees and understands the death stare I’m throwing her way. We are no longer friends, or colleagues.
“That’s some coincidence,” she adds.
Hearing our history laid bare by a stranger has Addison up out of her chair. Gone is the cute as fuck thing. Her eyes are pinned to Erica. “How do you know about that?”
Erica shrugs innocently. “Rush told me. Back when we were together.”
“Together?” Addison repeats, then looks over at me.
“Yeah,” she said. “It really tore him up. Really affected the way he communicated. Our sex life was—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” I say in the coldest voice imaginable. “Erica, you have a pierced clit waiting on you and a full day of appointments. I suggest you get the fuck on it. And then after that, get the fuck out.”
For a moment, she has the decency to look contrite. “I’m sorry, honey. That was out of line. I just kinda wanted to know.” She shrugs, gives me one last tight smile, then leaves the room.
When I look back, Addison is standing by V’s table and taping up her arm.
I go over to her and reach for her hand. “Let me do that.”
She pulls away from me. “So, is this why you sort of discouraged me from coming in today?”
I’m not about to bullshit her. “Yeah.”
She looks up. “Why?”
“Come on, Ads. She was three years ago. I don’t give a fuck about her. But I do give a fuck about you. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“No. You didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“She’s a pain in the ass. Clearly loves causing trouble. She knew about what happened back in high school and I didn’t want you to hear that.”
“But I did hear about it,” she returns hotly.
“Only because you came here.”
Her mouth drops open an inch.
“Shit.” I growl at my foot-in-mouth assholery. “That’s not what I mean. I’m glad you’re here. I want you here all the damn time. I just didn’t want you to have to deal with that kind of drama.”
She lifts her chin, her nostrils flaring now. She’s super pissed. “I suspect that being with you, I’m going to be exposed to all kinds of drama. I know you haven’t been celibate since high school, and I know what kind of tail comes through that door several times a day. Stop protecting me, and prepare me.”
“What?”
“I could’ve handled that bitch. But you didn’t prepare me.” She tosses the rest of the tape on the table and heads for the door. “I’m out of here.”
I follow. Course I fucking follow. I love her to death. “Addison.”
“I need some time, Rush.” She doesn’t even slow, doesn’t even glance over her shoulder. Just hits the front door of the shop and keeps on going.
Once outside, I stop. She’s already in my car, and she’s right. I fucked up. She deserves some cooling off. Shit. This was not the day I had planned.
Without looking at me, Addison backs up and drives off.
After a minute of staring at her receding taillights, I head back inside. I’m feeling murderous and I’m ready to fire anyone who crosses my path and says something stupid.
Vincent’s behind the desk, taking a credit card from his client. “She gone?” he asks.
I shoot him a warning glare. “What do you think?
“I told you, man,” he says with exactly zero sympathy. “Name tats. Kiss of fucking death.”
Addison
I lift the wooden spoon to my mouth and taste. Holy crap, that’s some kickass gravy. I stare into the pot. It looks good. Brown and bubbling and sending off hella good scents. I’m kind of proud of myself. Coq au Vin had sounded super difficult and majorly time consuming, and yeah, it was both those things, but I did it.
I’m just taking another quick taste, when I hear the front door open. My pulse jacks up in my throat, but I’m glad he’s home. And I’m appreciative of the hour he’s given me to cool down.
“You’re making dinner, Ads?”
I turn to look at him. “I told you I was going to.”
He’s leaning against the counter about five feet away. “I know, but I thought…” His body language is wary, but his eyes are throwing off hardcore forgive-me darts. God, I’m so in love with him.
“Did you think I’d be on my way to the airport, Rush?”
He nods, and I hate the flash of fear in his eyes.
“Oh, Jesus.” I put the spoon down and lean against the counter, too. “I’m not running from this. I fucking love you. It took us five years to get here.”
His eyes close and he exhales. “Oh, Ads.”
When he opens them again, I continue, “But you can’t lie to me. No matter what. No matter how you think I’m going to react.” My words catch up with me and sucker punch me in the chest. I laugh softly. At myself. My silly, fearful, happy self. “Amazing.”
“What?”
“I learned something from this. From that asshole ex of yours. Seriously, she might be from the south or whatever, but girl needs to learn some manners.”
Rush pushes away from the counter and saunters over to me. And when I say ‘saunters,’ I mean it. Boy may be scared of losing what we got, but nothing can steal his sexy.
“You gotta know something,” I say when he places his hands on my hips and pins me with those jade-green eyes. “And if it sends you running out the door, then fine, I get that. Of course, this is your house so maybe I’m the one who leaves, or you step out for a walk and…”
His hands tighten around my hips and he eases me closer. “Ads. Talk to me. I’m not going anywhere.”
I take a breath, bite my lower lip. “Okay. Here goes. So, I’ve been in hell for five weeks.”
His body goes rigid. “What?”
“Except when I’m with you,” I amend quickly. “When I’m with you I’m crazy happy. Like, nuts happy. Like I can breathe and chill and focus. But when I’m back there, when I’m home, without you, life just completely sucks. Seriously, it’s orange sweatpants and sad movies, pining all night instead of studying, and being an utterly craptastic friend. I’m lost.” I shrug. “I’m addicted. To you. To us.”
“See, that’s the problem, baby,” Rush says casually, like all the shit I just said was completely and totally understandable.
“What?” I ask. I think my Coq au Vin might be burning. And I think I don’t care.
“Cali’s not your home.”
I swallow. No. Definitely don’t care about the fancy French chicken. “It’s not?”
He shakes his head. “Come on, Addison. We’re both shit without each other. Phone’s not going to do it. Text just pisses me off. And weekends are a goddamn tease.”
I nod, laugh. “I know, totally.”
He pulls back a second, his brows slamming together. He looks so hot when he’s confused. “Wait a minute. Did you actually think I’d be freaked out or turned off by hearing how sick your love for me is?”
“Yeah. I kinda did.” I shake my head. “That abandonment thing runs deep, you know? And when you find that person who just drives you crazy in the freaking best way, like they get you, and all you want to do is be with them, you get scared. You get scared ‘cause you wanna hang on tight. Crazy tight. And you wonder if you’ll suffocate them and they’ll break away and haul ass to a different state or country or…the moon.” I start laughing at myself. I’m such a nutjob.
Rush pulls me in for a kiss. It’s not the hungry, I’m-going-to-fuck-the-shit-out-of-you kind, which is pretty standard for us because we’re horny and in love. It’s gentle and vulnerable, and it makes tears prick in my eyes.