The Wedding Agreement (21 page)

Indictment

Less than nine hours. That's how much total sleep Cass had gotten over the past three nights. She'd tossed and turned so much that she'd skipped the gym, deciding that her sleep—or lack of sleep—habits were exercise enough.

And it hadn't just been her body that had gotten a workout. Her mind had too. She had so many thoughts running through it, she wasn't sure how to even make sense of any of them. As she sat at her desk, staring at her computer screen, she thought back to her fight with Alex, if it could even be called that. It was more of a conversation—a request even—that, in her opinion, Alex had gotten irrationally defensive about. And then it had just escalated from there.

She hadn't meant to imply that he wasn't a good father. She knew he was. But Cass also knew that as much as she didn't want him making the same mistake again, Alex didn't want that either. And if Cass
were honest with herself, she
had
been a little unfair. Accusing Alex of putting work before his daughter and then connecting it to the very thing that had ultimately been the catalyst for the split between him and Tessa had been a shot below the belt that she'd taken in anger.

Split.
She let the word bounce around in her mind for a moment, its echo an unwelcome visitor there. But that thought was what she'd needed to finally put the whole thing in perspective. Maybe this was
not
a big deal. Maybe it was
not
a deal breaker. Maybe it was just a minor disagreement—one that was common in any relationship. There was no avoiding that. It was hopefully just a small ripple in what Cass saw as a much larger sea. And just because they'd encountered their first wave didn't mean their boat would capsize and they would drown out there.

Sure, she'd had a right to say what she'd said. No matter how much she loved someone—and she
did
love Alex—she would never censor herself. But Alex had a right to his reaction too. He was as much a part of this relationship as she was, and that meant having a voice in it. Even if it wasn't a voice she wanted to hear at that particular moment.

Maybe that's what set her relationship with Alex apart from others she'd had in the past: she might not have wanted to hear his voice at the time, but that didn't mean she never wanted to hear it again. Whatever anger had existed in her a few days ago had evaporated now.

Cass saw it for what it was: their first fight as a real couple. The only problem was that they still hadn't talked about how real their coupling
was.
So despite the fact that she'd promised herself she'd wait until Nina left to come clean about her feelings, she couldn't
stop herself from sending a
Can we talk?
text to Alex before putting her phone back in her purse and opening her e-mail so she could actually get some work done.

But what she saw surprised her: an e-mail from Alex. Maybe he wants to let this go too. She smiled as she opened the e-mail and read the first line.

Hey, take a look at this when you get a chance. The band sent over a list of the covers they do. Let me know what you think.

Cass was relieved he hadn't mentioned the fight. Though the text of his e-mail had been straightforward, there hadn't been any edge to it.

Cass scrolled down, quickly realizing that it was a chain. But as her finger moved over the mouse, her eyes involuntarily scanned the blurred words as they passed by rapidly on the screen. And what she saw confused her. The e-mail chain wasn't from the band at all. It was a conversation between Scott, Xavier, and Alex from the past few days. Cass laughed internally at Alex's mistake, figuring she'd be getting a glimpse at some ridiculous male nonsense. But she quickly sobered when she realized that the topic of Alex's “mistake” was her. Though Cass knew she should read from the bottom up to get the full context, words and phrases like “hypocrite” and “some nerve” jumped out at her as the text passed her line of vision.

Cass' blood pressure rose as she skimmed the bullshit in front of her. But as she got to the bottom and finally calmed down enough to read Alex's entire first e-mail, the anger she'd initially felt had dissipated.

All she felt now was hurt.

Alex had been responding to Xavier's simple e-mail of,
What's new? I haven't talked to you assholes in a few days. And I'm at work. And bored as shit. So give me something good.

It was a simple question, innocent. But Alex's response was anything but.

Hmm, let's see. Oh yeah. Cass jumped down my throat last night about being “present” when I'm present or some bullshit like that. I don't need that shit again. And I definitely don't need it from someone who has openly admitted that her job is more important than a family. Where does she get off judging someone's parenting when she's not a parent and doesn't want to be? She doesn't know how hard it is to juggle two full-time jobs because she'll only ever have one. She admits she doesn't have a maternal bone in her body and then she goes and calls me out on how I'm an absent father? Yeah, okay. That makes a lot of fucking sense. She's not a mother, and she'll never be one.

Xavier essentially had the same reaction Cass did. Though his had probably been without the tears that she felt stinging the corners of her eyes before one finally fell. She didn't even bother wiping it away.

Wow!
was all Xavier had written in his next e-mail. It wasn't until Scott wrote back a few hours after that, asking Alex to slow down and explain what happened, that his angry rant got a little less angry. He detailed what had taken place between him and Cass. And though the tone of the rest of Alex's e-mails seemed to have softened as time passed, the message
hadn't: Cass had no room to critique who he was as a father when she wasn't a mother and had no interest in being one.

She closed her laptop slowly, pulled her purse out of her desk, slung it over her shoulder, and headed to her boss' office to tell him she felt sick and needed to go home. It wasn't a lie.

And as she pulled her keys from her purse in the parking lot and caught a glimpse of Alex's text back to her, the nausea she'd been trying so hard to quell came back in full force. He'd asked if she wanted to come over later.

She left the phone in her purse, knowing that she shouldn't respond in anger, and turned the key in her ignition. Cass drove home in silence. Well, not actual silence; the thoughts running through her head were louder than any radio would've been. And they were all saying the same thing: Alex was right about her. Cass
wasn't
the maternal type, and she never would be. She'd been delusional to try to convince herself otherwise. She'd hoped that their fight was something they could work through. She'd hoped that they'd both just said some things in anger that they hadn't meant. But all of that hope was gone now. And in its place was the realization she'd been trying so hard to ignore since she'd read the e-mails: Alex meant what he'd said that night. Every word of it. He could never see her as a wife or mother because he viewed those roles as nothing but a burden to her. And if Alex didn't see her as capable of motherhood after the past few months, no amount of time or effort would rectify it. The only person she would ever be capable of being anything to was herself. And maybe she'd be okay with that again. Eventually.

But that didn't change the fact that what Alex had
written to the guys had hurt her. And Cass was never one to bow out when something needed to be addressed. So when she pulled into her space outside of her apartment, she took out her phone and replied,
I can be there around 7.

*   *   *

Alex was nervous. Once he'd had time to calm down, he realized that the lingering annoyance he'd felt after his argument with Cass was because of how much he'd hated having her mad at him. It was also helpful to have friends who called him out on his bullshit. When he'd told Scott and Xavier about what had happened, neither had pulled any punches in basically telling him he was an idiot. And he was—for a lot of reasons. That's why he'd invited Cass over. He set Nina up with popcorn and a movie in his room so he and Cass could have some privacy, and they could finally lay it all out on the table: his feelings, her feelings, where they'd go from here—all of it. He was fucking petrified.

He smoothed his T-shirt and ran a hand nervously through his hair as he scanned the room for something that would keep him occupied until she arrived. But a soft knock at the door kept him from having to look long. He walked over to the door and took a deep breath before pulling it open. And there she was. She didn't look happy to see him.

“Hey,” he said softly, flashing a small smile.

“Hi.” She didn't smile back, nor did she hold his gaze.

Shit.
“Come on in.” He moved back from the door and then closed it behind her. “Want to sit in the living room?”

“Sure.” She followed him silently. He hadn't even known Cass could be that quiet.

They both sat down on the couch, but she was as far away from him as she could get without toppling over the armrest. “I-I wanted to talk about the other night. I didn't like how we left things, and I wanted to—” Alex began.

“It's fine. You really don't have to explain.”

“No, I do. I mean, I
want
to. I got defensive, and some of the things I said to you were uncalled-for. You've been a big help, and—”

“Alex, please just stop. We don't need to do this.”

“I think we do. You said you wanted to talk, and you agreed to come here. Can you please stop interrupting me so I can apologize, and—”

“No. I can't stop interrupting you because I've already heard how you feel. Or
read
, I guess would be the more appropriate word. And as for agreeing to come here, I shouldn't have. I don't want to be here if you're going to give me some bullshit apology that isn't even honest.” Cass rose from the couch and picked up her purse, which she'd set beside her on the floor.

“Cass, wait. I'm totally confused. What do you mean, you've already heard how I feel?”

She let out an audible sigh before turning to face him. “You have your phone on you?”

“Yeah.” He fished it out of his pocket.

“Look in your Sent mail for the message you sent me earlier.”

He unlocked his screen and opened up his e-mail. He pulled up the band information he'd forwarded her, and . . .
Oh fuck
. “I can explain that. I was angry, mostly at myself.”

“Really? Because I don't see a ton of self-recrimination there. Sure, the guys manage to calm you down a little, but you said what you said. And you're not wrong. I
never wanted a family, never wanted to be a wife and mother. I'm married to my job, and that works for me. If our little experiment here has taught me anything, it's that I should stick with my strengths. And playing house isn't one of them.”

“That's not true. You're great with Nina. I see the way you look at her. It's not an act. And . . . you're great with me too. We're great together. Please don't let my bitching to the guys ruin what we've started here.”

“Save it, Alex. When I texted you that I wanted to talk, I thought we could work things out—that our argument the other night was just a little bump in the road. But it's not. I see that now.”

“Cass.” Alex let her name hang in the air because he wasn't sure what he could say that would explain what he'd written. He'd initially felt like she was judging him, so he'd immediately gone on the defensive. But she hadn't been judging him—she'd been trying to help him because she gave a shit.

Cass' face was completely blank, just as it had been since she arrived. “I know you're used to being able to fix things—that if you try hard enough, think long enough about something, all of the pieces will just fit together.” Cass dropped her eyes to the floor, and Alex could see the moisture on them when she brought her gaze back up to his. “But the two of us,” she shook her head, “we don't fit together. We never did.”

Alex couldn't believe what she was saying. He'd actually had a chance with Cass, and he'd fucked it up before it had even begun.

“I care for Nina,” Cass continued. “She's an awesome kid. And I was happy to give up my time for a few months to hang out with her. I promised when this all began that I'd be there for her. And I'll keep that
promise. It's not fair to her to have it any other way. But as for us being great together—” Cass shrugged. “We're friends who made a good team for a few months. But I was never big on team sports. I'm a solo act, Alex. I like my life that way. It's not fair of you to ask me for more than I want to give. I've given you enough already.”

And she had. He couldn't argue with that. Cass had done more for him in the past four months than he could ever repay. But it couldn't have meant as little to her as she was implying. He understood that he'd hurt her, but he could explain. He could fix it if she'd just give him a chance.

But the expressionless look on her face, the detachment in her words—nothing he could say right now would get through to her. Maybe if he gave her some time she'd come around. Hear him out. But not now. “You're right. I've definitely asked you for enough. I didn't mean to take advantage.”

“You didn't. I offered to help, and I was happy to do it. I also promised I wouldn't disappear from Nina's life, and I won't. We're friends—we just need to get back to acting like it.”

Alex could only nod as he followed her to the front door. She pulled it open but hesitated briefly in the threshold before murmuring, “Bye, Alex.” And then she was gone.

Admission

“So, you fucked things up pretty bad, huh?” Xavier said before taking a sip of his beer.

When Alex had asked the guys to get together for a drink so they could talk, he was thinking he'd get a little more moral support. Evidently that wasn't going to happen. “We
both
fucked up.”

“Yeah, but you
really
fucked up. First, you treated the girl like she was a glorified nanny. Then you blasted her via e-mail. And to think I used to consider you the smooth one.” Xavier tried to lighten his words with a wink.

“Please. When did you ever consider me smooth?”

“Never. I was just trying to be nice.”

Alex snorted. “Try harder.”

Scott, who had been toying with his pint glass as Xavier and Alex spoke, cleared his throat. “How do you feel now that she's gone?”

Alex wasn't sure how to answer. A lot of feelings
had been flowing through him over the past week since Cass had walked out of his house: anger, confusion, guilt, regret. Sadness. But he didn't want to cop to those emotions. Admitting them made them more real, more painful. However, he'd been the one to call on his friends to help. The least he could do was share what he was feeling. “Like shit.”

“Why?”

“Why? What do you mean, why?” Alex was beyond confused by the question. They knew about the fight and the e-mail disaster. Scott knew why.

Scott stopped playing with his glass, set both hands on the table, and leaned in a little. “Why do you feel like shit? Is it because you lost the best sex you ever had?”

Alex hesitated as he tried to wrap his brain around Scott's question. “You really think that's it? I'm mad because I lost a good lay?”

Scott shrugged. “So what is it then, if it's not that?”

Damn it.
Alex stared at him, thinking that he should have just agreed with Scott. It would have been easier than explaining what was really wrong. Now he had no choice but to share what was going on in his mind. “I feel like shit because I hurt Cass' feelings. I didn't mean the things I said. I was just pissed. And now I'm gonna hurt Nina too.”

Scott sat up straight, effectively backing away from Alex. “Then it's just as well it's over.”

“What? What the fuck do you mean?” Alex sputtered.

“Listen, Alex. I love you like a brother, man. You know that. And I've only ever wanted you to be happy. But I can't want that at someone else's expense. Especially not Cass'.”

Alex just stared at his best friend. Then, turning to Xavier, he said, “Do you have any idea what the hell he's talking about?”

Xavier shook his head. “No, but I have a feeling it's going to be deep.”

Alex turned back to Scott, who continued. “You should feel bad for hurting Cass' feelings. Anyone with a conscience would. And the whole Nina thing . . . that sucks on a lot of levels. You're a good dad, so it makes sense that you feel bad.”

Alex waited for him to finish his explanation. When he didn't, Alex prompted him with, “But?”

“But neither of those are good enough reasons for someone to dedicate their life to you. You're upset because of how your actions made
other
people feel, not because of how they made
you
feel. If you don't feel anything on behalf of yourself—other than maybe missing out on some orgasms—then you were just wasting her time.”

Alex wanted to be insulted. But if he wasn't going to be fully honest with his friends, how could he legitimately hold their opinions against them? “It's not just that.”

“Then what is it?”

Alex couldn't take it. His best friends were staring at him expectantly like he was supposed to have some magical answer. The truth was, on top of all the other emotions whirling around in him, there was something else there: relief. Relief that Cass left before things had gotten even more serious. Before he'd gotten irrevocably attached. He'd had the clichéd rug pulled out from under him before, and he didn't know if he could risk it again. He hadn't been enough for Tessa—not as a husband—so how would he ever be
enough for Cass? How could he be, when he was making all the same mistakes? He was doing the right thing by letting it lie, but he needed to be absolved of the pain. He didn't want to hurt anymore. He needed someone to cauterize the goddamn wound. “Can you just be on my fucking side?” Alex growled. “I know I fucked up one of the best things I had going for me. I don't need you to rub it in. I just need you to sit there and offer empty words of sympathy like best friends are supposed to do.”

Xavier clapped him on the shoulder. “How can we do that when there's still time to fix it?”

Alex moved, causing Xavier's hand to fall from his arm. “What if I don't want to fix it? What if this was how it was meant to be?”

“You want to know what I think?” Scott asked.

“No,” Alex replied.

Scott smirked. “Tough shit. I think that since you divorced Tessa, you've been acting like you've wanted to settle down again, when the idea really scares you shitless. You've gone on tons of dates, but the women you picked, they weren't even close to being your type. That was intentional, wasn't it?”

Alex shrugged. “I honestly don't know. Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Scott repeated with a shake of his head. “I think you do know. I think when Tessa left, it did more damage than you ever admitted. Because the truth is, no matter how horrible what she did was, you didn't exactly fight for your marriage either. Not before the affair, and sure as hell not after. You just walked away. Which is what you're trying to do now. And you want us to support you in that, like we did when your marriage to Tessa fell apart. But Cass isn't Tessa. Cass didn't betray you. She helped you.
She was there for you. She probably even loves your stupid ass. Why would you walk away from that?”

“Because according to you, it's what I do best,” Alex snarled.

“Don't do that. That's not what I was trying to say.”

“What are you so scared of?” Xavier questioned.

“Alex, come on, man—” Scott started.

“I'm afraid I'm not enough,” Alex yelled, causing the other patrons to turn and look at them curiously. He lowered his voice before continuing. “Cass is . . . larger than life. And what I feel for her is deeper than what I ever felt for Tessa. You want to know what I feel? I'm fucking devastated. Because I found someone who was perfect for me, but I fell right back into old patterns. I got caught up in my job and in my own arrogance, and I pushed her away because she dared to call me on it.” Alex took a shuddering breath. “And then when she showed up at my house to confront me about the e-mail, when it became clear that she was going to leave too, I didn't even try very hard to explain. You don't need to be Freud to figure me out. All of the important women in my life have left in one way or another. It's the story of my life.”

Both Scott and Xavier stood there gaping at him, clearly at a loss for what to say. At least initially.

Xavier was the first to break the silence. “Wow. For such a smart guy, you really are a dumbass.”

Finally . . . wait . . . what?
“Did you just seriously call me a dumbass? After all that?”

“You bet your ass,” Xavier snapped. “It's not some giant cosmic conspiracy to force you to be alone for the rest of your life. If that happens, you'll have only yourself to blame.”

Alex scoffed. “I didn't say it was a conspiracy. I just—”

“Stop. Please. Stop and just listen. You are a good guy who messed up. But it's not like you caused a complete and utter disaster. You're letting dumb shit ruin your chance at a really good thing. Knock it the fuck off.” Xavier punctuated his final words by taking a long drink of his beer.

“That was quite a pep talk,” Alex said.

Xavier shrugged. “What can I say? I have a way with words.”

Alex shifted on his stool uncomfortably. “I'm pretty stupid, huh?”

“Yup,” the other men replied in unison.

“I should try to fix it, right?”

Xavier and Scott looked at one another before saying, “Yup.”

Alex took a deep breath and straightened his posture. “Okay.”

*   *   *

“Hello?”

“Hey, it's me. Alex.”

“Hey. What's up? Nina okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, she's fine. I was wondering . . . can we meet up for lunch Monday?”

Cass was silent for so long, he looked to see if the call had disconnected. “Why?” was her eventual reply.

“Because you said we'd be friends but we're not acting like it. I just want to try to get some of
us
back.”

“The ‘us' we were before all this started?”

I fucking hope not.
“Whatever us there can be.”

She took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “Sure. I guess I can do that.”

“Great. How about noon at that tavern we ate at a few weeks ago?”

“Okay. See you then.” She hung up, leaving Alex with an overwhelming dread that tomorrow wasn't going to go well.

*   *   *

Cass pulled back the shower curtain and leaned out.
Is someone knocking on my door?
She quickly shut off the shower and grabbed her robe. There was definitely someone pounding on her door. Relentlessly, in fact. She rushed toward the racket. “Who is it?” she asked as she looked through the peephole.
Shit.

“It's us,” Lauren yelled.

Cass sighed heavily and unlocked her door before pulling it open. “Ever hear of calling?” She stepped back from the threshold to let them in.

“We're staging an inter
friend
tion. These things work best when they're surprises,” Quinn explained.

“You've been watching too much A&E,” Cass retorted. She walked into the living room silently cursing the day she let these girls know the code to get into her building. Flopping down on the couch, she waited for her friends to join her before she spoke. “What's up?”

“You tell us,” Simone countered.

“The sky. Airplanes. Birds. Clouds. Dirk Diggler's dick.”

“Funny,” Simone said with a look that distinctly showed that she did
not
think Cass was funny at all.

“You've been avoiding us for over a week. We're worried,” Quinn said.

Cass would've felt bad if she hadn't been so numb. “Sorry. I've just been busy.”

“Busy trying to heal a broken heart without your
best friends. And without this.” Quinn reached into a bag she's brought and pulled out a carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

“And these,” Lauren added as she pulled a stack of chick flicks out of her purse.

Simone got up and came to sit beside her. “And, of course, this.” Simone wrapped her arms around Cass.

Cass tried to stop it. Tried to hold it in. But as Simone's arms tightened, Cass' resolve weakened. The tears came silently at first, but then broken sobs weren't far behind. Cass had kept all of these emotions locked up for eight days. It took her friends less than eight minutes to set them free. She felt Quinn and Lauren join them, their arms twining around her. Holding her tightly in an attempt to put back together what had just broken.

Cass let herself have that movement. Allowed herself to get it all out—to unload it on the people she knew would gladly carry the burden for a while. God, she loved these girls. When her tears slowed, she pulled back so she could wipe her face. “How did you know?”

“The boys are horrible gossips. They make us look like the CIA,” Lauren explained.

“What happened, Cass?” Quinn asked.

So Cass told them. She didn't leave out a single detail, and by the end they'd devoured the ice cream and two bags of popcorn, and were currently working through a box of cookies. “And now he wants to meet for lunch tomorrow. I agreed because I told him that we'd always be friends and I didn't want to seem like I was welching on that. But . . .”

“But what?” Simone prompted.

“But I don't want to go. There's nothing left to say. And I'm afraid that seeing him will cause it to hurt even worse.”

“Oh, Cass,” Quinn said as she moved closer and took Cass' hand. “I'm so sorry that you're going through this.” Quinn stopped and bit her lip, seemingly conflicted about what she was about to say. “Are you sure there's nothing to say though? Maybe it was all just a big misunderstanding.”

Cass shook her head. “He was pretty clear. And honestly I don't have it in me to even contemplate that we could work it out. False hope is worse than no hope at all.”

The girls exchanged a look that conveyed that they wanted to disagree, but they refrained from voicing any further concerns. Cass had never loved them more.

*   *   *

Alex had shown up early so he could get a table before the lunch rush poured in, which proved to be a mistake, since it gave him time to stress about how their meeting was going to go. Cass was right on time, and he stood to wave her over.

She approached him with a polite smile. “Hey,” she said with a cheer that was characteristically
not
Cass.

“Hey.” They sat down and grabbed menus. Cass scanned it like she didn't have a care in the world. He was totally thrown. “So, how ya been?”

“Good. Busy with work. You?” She never looked up from her menu.

“Same.”

They sat in silence until the waitress came to take their order. Once she left, the silence continued. Cass finally broke it. “Tessa comes back Friday, right? You and Nina have anything special planned for the last few days?” Cass was fiddling with her nails, still avoiding eye contact, but her voice was light.

Alex couldn't take it anymore. “What's going on, Cass?”

Her eyes flitted up briefly to his. “What do you mean?”