And if she doesn’t, if this all falls apart because I was too much of a coward to tell her the truth sooner, I’ll have no one to blame but myself.
The thought sits heavy in my gut as I grab another beer and rejoin my brothers, trying to lose myself in the familiar rhythms of club life while my mind spins with how to tell the woman I love that I’ve been lying to her since the day we met.
Soon, I tell myself.
I will tell her soon.
Before someone else does it for me.
Before I lose her forever.
Chapter Twenty-Four
MARLEY
The Next Night
The text comes in at 2:47 p.m., exactly one week after my thirtieth birthday party.
One week since Beck showed me that photograph.
One week since Nitro and I finally, finally made everything real.
Nitro the nice Uber Guy:Can you meet me at the apartment tonight? Around 7?
I stare at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Something about the tone feels off. Too formal. Too careful. Like he’s measuring every word before he sends it.
Me:Of course. Everything okay?
The three little dots appear, then disappear. Then appear again.
Nitro the nice Uber Guy:Yeah… just need to talk to you about something.
My stomach twists. Those six words have never meant anything good in the history of relationships. That’s breakup language. That’s bad-news language. That’s the kind of thing Derek would say before he’d tell me I was embarrassing him in front of his colleagues.
But Nitro isn’t Derek.I remind myself of this as I finish up my work for the day at Blackwell Entertainment Group.
I love this job.
I genuinely, truly love it.
The creative freedom, the collaborative environment, and the way my ideas are actually heard and valued. It’s everything I ever wanted in a career, and I got it without having to compromise myself or deal with condescending bosses who make me feel small.
The apartment.
Our apartment, really, even though Nitro still calls it ‘the apartment’ as if it’s just some temporary space, has become ours over the past month. The walls I painted sage green. The vintage posters I found at that flea market in Henderson. The ridiculous throw pillows that Nitro pretends to hate but always arranges just so when he thinks I’m not looking.
I change out of my work clothes into jeans and one of my favorite vintage band tees, The Cranberries, this time, faded and soft from a hundred washes. I’m reaching for my jacket when my phone buzzes again.
Beck The Better Brother:Dinner this weekend? I want to hear all about how disgustingly in love you are.
Me:You’re the worst.
Beck The Better Brother:I’m the BEST, and you know it. So that’s a yes?
Me:Yes. Love you.
Beck The Better Brother:Love you too sis. xo
