“And Martin —”
I interrupt. “Maddox.”
She swivels her hand in the air nonchalantly. “Whatever. He said the girl isn’t Jamie’s girl, but some kind of good deed he was doing for their coach?”
“Yep.”
“And you haven’t spoken to Jamie at length about it yet?”
“No. You know I can’t do that. I need time to decompress and work out all the details first.”
“Do you think Jamie was on a date?” she asks.
I shut my eyes tightly, hating the image that pops into my head. Him looking so dapper and beautiful in his tux, and her climbing him like a damn spider monkey. “They looked perfect together. Like she was just his type.”
“You don’t know his type, Aud,” Chelsea says softly. “You’re assuming based on a lot of factors here, none of which come from the man himself.”
“All I know is what I’ve seen with my own two eyes, and everything that Google has told me. A quick search of ‘Jameson Wahlberg girlfriend’ brings up quite a few women, and exactly zero of them look a thing like me. And I know it’s ridiculous of me to believe Google, because the Internet isn’t always the truth,but my own history says that men lie.” I don’t realize I’m crying until a tear drops onto my hand. I’m not the crying type, and I’ve cried more in the past twelve hours than I have in the past year.
“Aud,” Chelsea says quietly, “I think you need to give him a chance to explain. If for no other reason than getting closure so you two can plan this event.”
“I feel so stupid,” I whisper.
“Why?”
“Because I let myself believe. That maybe we could be something.”
“Why do you think you can’t be something now?”
I shrug. “I don’t think I fit into his world. The only reason I was there tonight was because my parents forced me to be there. Had it been for any other organization, I wouldn’t have gotten an invite. But Jamie can show up wherever, and he’ll be let in. He’ll have an entourage, sign autographs, and every woman in the room will wonder what he’s like in bed. I doubt myself on an hourly basis, Chels. I’d never be able to confidently be on his arm.”
“Audrey,” she whispers, pain and sympathy etched into her face. “I wish you could see how truly amazing you are. I hate that you think you’d just be an ornament for him, because I know you’d steal the show. I can only hope that Jamie is the guy that recognizes your worth too, and he’ll patiently help you build up the confidence you need to walk beside him.”
I shake my head. A quick moment, a blip in time, is bringing back every bad memory of my life. Ridiculed for my weight. Mocked for my love of animals. Mocked for misjudging a social situation. It’s dumping on me, wave after wave of depression, sadness, and emotional trauma. “I’m not ready to face any of that.”
“Okay, sweetie,” Chelsea says patiently. “Why don’t you take a nap? I know you, and I bet you didn’t sleep much at all last night.”
“I didn’t,” I whisper. She moves off the couch, handing me a blanket. “Is it okay if I stay here tonight? I don’t want to go home. Just in case he — he knows where I live. I’m not ready to face him.”
“Okay. Just sleep for now. We’ll figure it out when you’re rested.”
Shit. The guinea pigs. “Wait! I need to go home. The piggies —”
Chelsea interrupts me with a devilish grin. “I’ll go feed them this evening. I can be sneaky and quiet. The QB won’t even know I’m there.”
As Chelsea quietly walks into her kitchen, I ball up the blanket, holding it tightly to my chest. It relieves a tiny bit of the ache, but not much. I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, but wake no closer to a resolution than before.
I sleep on and off throughout the day on Chelsea’s couch, content to ignore the world from my own little self-imposed bubble. If I wasn’t the only vet at my clinic, I’d be tempted to call in sick Monday, but I can’t let my clients down. I’ve used a traveling veterinarian to fill in for me a couple of times, but it’s always been for more valid reasons than now. Plus I’m pretty sure Chelsea would kill me if she had to handle everything in my absence.
Bright and early Monday morning, I head back to my townhouse. I need to shower and get ready for the day, and I want to spend some time with the pigs. I feel guilty for leaving them alone this long. I’m thankful I don’t have any appointments for a couple of hours, so I can work on focusing my attention and emotions. Since I typically spend an hour onSunday afternoons doing a little meal prep for the week, I guess this week’s lunches will be a free-for-all.
As I turn into my complex, I have a perfect view of the front of my townhouse … and the large quarterback currently slumped against the front door.
As soon asI saw the headlights, I knew it was Audrey. I figured she went elsewhere to avoid me, but didn’t know what else to do. So I’ve been sitting here for over twenty-four hours. I’ve gotten up occasionally, especially when my ass has completely fallen asleep, and to grab a delivery order of food. I also really hope Audrey doesn’t have any hidden cameras anywhere, because I took a whizz in her shrubs. But if she does have a camera, oh well. It was pee in a bush, or leave, and I wasn’t leaving.
I watch as Audrey drives around the building to her attached garage, holding a hand to the side of her face in an attempt to disguise herself. Great job, Doc. I really didn’t know it was you.
I wait a few moments, listening hard to hear when she is inside her home, but there’s hardly any noise. I suddenly hear a crash, a yip, and a muffled, ‘shit.’ I guess she’s home now, so I begin ringing the doorbell. Incessantly.
