After We Fell (78 page)

“I'll have to download them when I get my e-reader back from you,” she says, swiping a napkin across her mouth. “I can't wait to have my bracelet back, too. And the letter.”

I force myself not to panic and shove almost an entire piece of pizza into my mouth so I'm unable to respond. I can't tell her I destroyed it, so I'm really grateful when she moves to another subject.

The day ends with Tessa falling asleep in the car. She's made
a habit of that lately, and for some reason, I love it. I take the long way back to the house, just like I did the last time.

TESSA'S ALARM
didn't wake me, and neither did she. I'm less than pleased that I didn't get to see her before she left this morning, especially since she'll be gone all day. When I glance at the clock on the wall, it shows almost noon; at least she'll be taking lunch soon.

I dress quickly and leave the house for the new Vance Publishing branch office. It's strange to think that I could be working there with her, the two of us driving to work together each morning, making the drive back home together . . . we could actually live together again.

Space, Hardin, she wants space.
I laugh at the idea; we aren't giving each other any space, really—only three days a week, tops. What we're doing is just making seeing each other more of a pain in the ass, with the excessive driving and distance.

When I get inside the building, I find that the Seattle office is fucking outrageously lavish. It's much bigger than the shit office I worked at. I don't miss working in a stuffy cubicle, that's for damned sure, but this place is nice. Vance wouldn't allow me to work from home. It was Brent, my boss at Bolthouse, that recommended I do my work for him from my living room in order to “keep the peace.” It works out perfectly for me, even more so now that Tessa's in Seattle, so joke is on those overly sensitive fucks in the office.

I'm surprised when I don't get lost in this maze of a fucking building.

When I reach the reception area, Kimberly beams at me from behind her desk. “Hello. How may I help you?” she says with emphasis, showing me her ability to remain professional.

“Where's Tessa?”

“In her office,” she says, dropping the facade.

“And that is . . .” I lean against the wall and wait for her to show me to Tessa.

“Down the hall. Her name is on the plate outside.” She glances back to her computer screen, dismissing me. Rude.

What exactly does Vance pay her to do? Whatever it is, it must be worth it for him to be able to fuck her on a constant and keep him nearby during the day. I shake my head, ridding it of the images of the two of them.

“Thanks for your help,” I gripe and head down the long narrow hallway.

When I reach Tessa's office, I open the door without knocking. The room is empty. I reach into my pocket and grab my phone to call her; seconds later I hear a rattling noise and see her phone vibrating on her desk.
Where the hell is she?

I go down the hallway in search of her. I know Zed is in town, and that has me seeing red. I swear to fucking . . .

“Hardin Scott?” a woman's voice asks from behind me as I turn and enter what looks like a small break room.

I turn around to find a familiar face. “Um . . . hey?” I can't remember where I've seen her before, but I know that I have. Realization hits me when she's joined by another woman. You've got to be fucking kidding me. The universe is playing a sick fucking joke on me, and it's pissing me the fuck off.

Tabitha grins at me. “Well . . . well . . . well . . .”

Tessa's tales of woe about two bitchy office bullies make so much more sense now.

Since clearly neither of us is going to stand on ceremony, I just say, “You're the one giving Tessa shit, aren't you.” If I had any idea that Tabitha had transferred to the Seattle office, I'd have known instantly that she was the bitch in question. She was known for that back when I worked for Vance, and I'm sure she hasn't changed.

“What? Me?” She flips her hair over her shoulder and smiles.
She looks different . . . unnatural, really. The little minion who's following in her wake has the same orange shade to her skin . . . they should stop bathing in food coloring, perhaps.

“Cut the shit. Don't mess with her; she's trying to adjust to a new city, and you two aren't going to ruin it for her by being a assholes to her for no reason.”

“I haven't even done anything! I was joking anyway.” Flashes of her sucking my dick in a bathroom stall flash through my mind, and I swallow the uneasy feeling that comes with the unwelcome memory.

“Don't do it anymore,” I warn her. “I'm not fucking around. Don't even speak to her.”

“Jesus, you're still as cheery as ever, I see. I won't mess with her anymore. I wouldn't want you telling Mr. Vance on me and getting me fired like you did Sam—”

“That wasn't my fault.”

“Yes, it was!” she whispers dramatically, “As soon as her man found out what you two were doing . . . what you did . . . she was mysteriously let go the very same week.” Tabitha was easy, so damn easy, and so was Samantha. The moment that I found out who Samantha's boyfriend was, she began to appeal to me. But once I got between her legs, I wanted nothing to do with her. That little game of mine caused me a lot of shit and drama that I'd rather not be reminded of, and I sure as hell don't want Tessa mixed up in this catty shit.

“You don't know half of what really happened, so keep your mouth shut. Leave Tessa alone, and your job will stay yours.” Truthfully, I may have had a little something to do with Vance letting Samantha go, but her working there was causing me too many problems. She was only a freshman in college, working part-time, as a copy girl.

“Speak of the spoiled little devil,” the short minion remarks and nods her head toward the door of the small break room.

Tessa is smiling and laughing as she enters. And right behind her, dressed in one of his little suits and ties, is fucking Trevor, smiling and laughing along with her.

The little twat spots me first and touches Tessa's arm to draw her attention to me. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to snap him in two. When she sees me from across the room, her face lights up, her smile widens, and she rushes over. Only when she reaches me does she notice Tabitha standing next to me.

“Hey,” she says, unsure now, nervous.

“Bye, Tabitha.” I wave the snooty woman off. She whispers something to her friend, and the two of them leave the room.

“Bye, Trevor,” I say quietly enough that only Tessa hears.

“Stop it!” She swats my arm in the pestering way that she always does.

“Hello, Hardin,” Trevor greets me, ever so politely. His arm twitches at his side, like he's trying to decide whether or not to offer his hand for a shake. I hope for his sake that he doesn't. I won't accept it.

“Hi,” I say curtly.

“What are you doing here?” Tessa asks. She looks out into the hallway for the two women that just left. I know what she's really asking:
How do you know them, and what did they say?

“Tabitha won't be a problem anymore.”

She gapes, her eyes wide. “What did you do?”

I shrug. “Nothing, I just told her what you should have—to fuck off.”

Tessa smiles at fucking Trevor, and he sits down at one of the tables, trying not to look at the two of us. I find his discomfort pretty damn amusing.

“Did you have lunch already?” I ask. She shakes her head. “Let's get you something to eat, then.” I give the eavesdropper a fuck-you glare and lead Tessa out of the room and down the hallway.

“The place next door has really good tacos,” she says.

It turns out she's wrong. The tacos are shit, but she devours her plate and most of mine. Afterward, she flushes and blames her appetite on her hormones; when she threatens to “shove a tampon down my throat” if I make one more joke about her period, I just laugh.

“I still want to go back tomorrow to see everyone and get my stuff,” she says, washing down the spicy salsa she just finished with some water.

“Don't you think going to England next weekend is enough traveling?” I say, trying to derail her plans.

“No. I want to see Landon. I miss him so much.”

An unwarranted pang of jealousy hits me, but I brush it off. He
is
her only friend, save annoying-ass Kimberly.

“He'll still be there when we get back from England . . .”

“Hardin, please.” She looks up at me, not asking for permission like she sometimes does. This time she's asking for my cooperation, and I can tell by the gleam in her eye that she's going back to see Landon whether I want her to or not.

“Fine. Fuck,” I groan.

This can't possibly go well. I look across the table at her, and she's smiling proudly, I don't know if she's proud of herself for winning this argument or proud of me for giving in, but she looks so beautiful. So relaxed.

“I like that you came here today.” She takes my hand as we walk down the busy street. Why are there so many people in Seattle?

“You do?” I figured as much, but I had a little anxiety that she might be angry at me for showing up unannounced, not that I would have given a shit, but still.

“Yes.” She blinks up at me, stopping in the middle of a swarm of rushing bodies. “I almost . . .” She trails off without finishing.

“You almost what?” I stop her attempt at walking farther and
pull her to the wall beside a jewelry store. The sun reflects off the enormous diamond rings on display in the window, and I lead her a few feet down the brick wall to get away from the glare.

“It's silly.” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and stares at the cement. “But I feel like I can breathe for the first time in months.”

“Is that a good thing or . . .” I start to ask, tilting her chin so she has no choice but to look at my face.

“Yes, it's a good thing. I feel like for once everything is working out. I know it hasn't been for long, but this is the most functional we have ever been. We've only had a handful of arguments, and we communicated our way through them. I'm proud of us.”

Her comment amuses me, because we still argue and banter constantly. It's not only a handful of arguments, but she's right: we've been talking our way through things. I love that we argue, and I think she does, too. We're totally different people—we couldn't be more different, really—and getting along with her all the time would be boring as hell. I couldn't live without her constant need to correct me or her nagging about my mess-making. She's annoying as hell, but I wouldn't change a fucking thing about her. Except her need to be in Seattle.

“Functional is highly overrated, baby.” To prove my point, I lift her by the thighs, wrapping her legs around my waist, and kiss her against the wall right in the middle of one of the busiest streets in Seattle.

H
ow much longer?” Hardin complains from the passenger seat.

“Less than five minutes; we just passed Conner's.” I know he's well aware of how short the distance is from here to the apartment; it's just that he can't keep himself from complaining. Hardin drove most of the way until I finally persuaded him to let me finish the trip. His eyes were nearly closing, and I knew he needed a break. My point was proven when he stretched his arm across the center console, holding me as best he could while I was driving, and fell asleep almost instantly.

“Landon is still there, right? You talked to him?” I ask. I'm beyond excited to see my best friend. It's been far too long, and I miss his kind words of wisdom and never-faltering smile.

“Yes, for the tenth time,” Hardin replies, clearly annoyed. He's been anxious the entire drive, even though he won't admit it. He shrugs it off like he's annoyed because of the distance, but I get the feeling there's something else behind his frustration. I'm not entirely sure that I want to discover what it is.

When I pull into the parking lot of the apartment building that I used to call home, my stomach turns, and my nervousness begins to creep to the surface.

“It'll be fine.” Hardin's reassuring words surprise me as we enter the front door.

The small elevator feels so alien as it rises up the building. It feels as if so much more than only three weeks have passed. Hardin keeps his hand over mine until we reach the door, where he slides the key into the lock and pushes it open.

Landon jumps to his feet from the couch and strides across the room with the brightest smile I've seen him wear in the seven months since we became friends. His arms wrap around my back, and he hugs me, welcoming me, and making me aware of just how much I've missed him. Before I know it, I'm sobbing and heaving deep breaths into my friend's chest.

I'm not sure why I'm crying so much. I've just missed Landon terribly, and his warm reaction to my return made me emotional.

“Can her old man get a turn?” I hear my father say from somewhere a little ways off.

Landon starts to back away, but Hardin says, “In a moment,” and nods toward Landon, assessing my mental state.

I launch myself at Landon again, and his familiar arms wrap around my back again. “I missed you so much,” I tell him.

His shoulders visibly relax, and he unwraps his arms from my body. When I go to hug my father, Landon stays nearby, his smile still bright and loving as ever. Looking at my father, I realize that he must have known that I'd be coming to visit. It looks like he's wearing Landon's clothes and they're tight on his body. I notice that his face is clean-shaven.

“Look at you!” I exclaim with a smile. “No beard!”

He whoops a loud laugh and hugs me tighter. “Yeah, no more beard for me,” he says.