Clean Break (A Little Like Destiny Book 3) Page 7

  Lizzie looks at me with surprise in her eyes. “We need to talk,” she says. She stands even though the plate in front of her is filled with food. She walks over to me and tugs my elbow. “Come with me.”

  She pulls me up and doesn’t let go of my arm. We stalk through the buffet and out into the casino. We walk until we end up in some deserted hallway.

  “You can barely function?” she finally asks, letting go of her grasp on me. Her eyes are wide and full of concern.

  I lift a shoulder and swipe at yet another goddamn tear as it tracks down my cheek.

  “Honey,” she says gently, pulling me into a hug. “He’s barely functioning, too. You two need to find your way back to each other.”

  “He pushed me toward Brian. Plus there was that girl at Sevens.”

  “What girl at Sevens?” Lizzie asks.

  “That night he talked to you about me when we were all in Chicago. It was all over the internet. Jill texted me in the morning to ask if I’d seen it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I grab my phone out of my clutch and pull up the article that broke my heart a month earlier. I hand her my phone with the first photo pulled up.

  “What the hell?” she mutters. She cranes her neck and squints. She spreads her fingers over my screen to zoom in, and then she looks up at me. She smiles triumphantly and hands my phone back to me.

  “Those aren’t from that night.”

  “He admitted they were.”

  She raises both brows. “He said he met that chick after he talked to me?”

  I shake my head, trying to remember his exact wording. “No. I asked him if it happened, and he said yes.”

  “Look at his hands.”

  “His hands?” My brows draw in, but I turn the phone back on and force myself to look at the pictures. I zoom in on the shot with the best view of his hands. “What about them?”

  “He finished the sleeve on his left arm a couple months ago and decided to extend over the back of his hand. There’s no tattoo on his hand in that photo.”

  “But what about the Sox hat? And the black shirt? It’s the same shirt he was wearing when he left.”

  “You don’t think that could all be added to the picture later? Do you really believe everything you see in pictures, Reese?”

  My eyes meet hers. “I’ve never had a reason not to.”

  “Well, now you do.”

  “It doesn’t even matter.” It does, though. This proves Mark lied to me. It proves he actively worked to ruin things between us, and I’m left to assume the reason was because he was too scared to get into something real with me. “I just want to move forward. Besides, he and Brian can’t fix their relationship if I’m in the picture.”

  She rolls her eyes. “After what Brian did, he doesn’t deserve Mark’s forgiveness as far as I’m concerned. Brian’s the one who took a shit on everything, not Mark.”

  “Mark pursued me before he knew Brian’s real motives. I’m sure that’s all Brian’s thinking about.”

  “It’s in the past. You and Mark belong together.”

  “It doesn’t matter who belongs where. The fact is it’s over, and that’s that. I’m just trying to move on, and to be honest, this is why I didn’t want to come tonight.” I start to walk away from her, away from this conversation and back to my dinner plate, but her soft voice is so full of fear that it stops me cold.

  “Reese, I’m worried about him.”

  I turn back to face her, and I really look at her for the first time. I see tension beneath her eyes where I didn’t notice it before. I see the way her brows are drawn together, causing her forehead to wrinkle. I watch as she twists a few strands of her hair between her fingers. What she’s feeling goes deeper than just worry. She’s fearful of what could happen, and I so badly want to ask what’s going on—what he’s doing that’s causing her so much anxiety.

  But I don’t think I can take knowing the truth. I’m happier in this land of ignorance where we’ve each started the process of moving on with our own lives…or at least where we’re pretending to.

  I don’t say anything, just stare blankly across the small space at her.

  “I’ve never seen him like this, and I’m so afraid for him. I’m so afraid he’s going to do something stupid.”

  Like what? You haven’t seen him like what? You’re afraid he’s going to do...what?

  These questions flash through my mind, but I don’t ask them. As much as I wish things were different, they’re not. I care about him, of course, and I want him to find happiness. But this isn’t a clean break. This isn’t the one thing I asked for when I abided by his wishes by jetting out of Chicago.

  I draw in a deep breath, and I don’t ask any of the questions in my head. Instead, I turn and head back toward the restaurant, leaving the bride to be staring after me with all that anguish for her brother in her eyes.

  * * *

  The nightclub isn’t fun. All I can do is think about Lizzie’s words. Music blares around us, bodies bump into me, girls laugh as their drinks splash over the sides of their glasses. I want to laugh at the girls dancing beside our group drinking daiquiris, the clear drink of choice of the younger crowd and the girls who are here on fake IDs, but I can’t muster up any of the glee that causes a laugh. I want to have fun, but Lizzie’s words war with my own good sense.

  Jill is wine drunk, oblivious to my internal struggle. When I got back to the table after my talk with Lizzie in the hallway, Jill had a fresh glass of wine in her hand. It disappeared before I had the chance to pull her aside, to tell her I wanted to go home.

  I’m dancing with the girls and going through the motions, but my heart isn’t in it. My heart is stuck on a rooftop in Chicago.

  I don’t even bother to excuse myself when the need to just get out of here for a few minutes overwhelms me.

  I beeline toward the doorway leading to the library room. It’s connected to the main club, a quiet room. I don’t know if I need special access to go in, but I slip past the security guard sitting outside it.

  People mill around, and I remember the last time I was here. I sat in the chair in the corner with Brian as he slid his hand up my dress—slid it further up than he’d ever slid it before. We barely knew each other, but I wanted it to happen. I remember the thrills darting through me that this gorgeous and successful man wanted me. While he never drove Mark out of my head completely, he created a diversion, a way for me to see I could eventually get over the one night I shared with a rock star.

  God, how naïve I was.

  I walk over toward the bookcases and pull my phone out of my purse. I open my Uber app and put in my ride request. Then I head back to the loud room and hug Lizzie. “I need to get out of here,” I say.

  She stops dancing and stops smiling. “Don’t go.”

  “I have to.”

  “Can I see you tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Too bad.” She gives me a drunken smile. “I’m coming over and you can’t stop me.”

  God, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree in this family.

  I say my goodbyes to Lizzie’s friends and tell Jill I’m leaving. She follows me out.

  “Don’t go,” she pleads.

  “If you’re having fun, you stay. I’m just bringing down everyone’s good time.”

  “That’s not true.”

  I roll my eyes. “That Julie girl won’t stop looking at me with daggers in her eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “We may have exchanged words when you went to the bathroom.”

  She giggles, a sound that tells me she’s more than just a little wine drunk now.

  “Call Beck. He’ll love coming to pick up his drunk girlfriend.”

  She shakes her head. “We have our last night tonight.”

  Right. It’s our last night in our house together. I’m moving out tomorrow, and she’s moving out Sunday. We had big plans to have one final gir
l’s night to celebrate all the years we’ve lived together.

  But right now, I sort of just want to be alone.

  “It’s okay, Jill. Have some fun tonight. We’ll have a sleepover another time.”

  “Who’s coming to get you?”

  “Uber.”

  She clears her throat. “Have you thought about calling him?”

  “Who?”

  “You know who.”

  “No, I haven’t,” I answer. It’s a lie. I think a hundred times every day about calling him, about texting him, about getting in touch with him. Still, even after a month has passed—even after he kicked me out.

  “Maybe you should.”

  “What am I supposed to do? Just call him up out of the blue and say, ‘I know we said love isn’t enough, but you wanna give it another go?’”

  She lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know the answer, Reese. But I know you.” She pauses, and then she lets fly everything she’s been protecting me from as she begins rambling. “I know you’re miserable. I know you’re not yourself. I know you’re avoiding me and everyone who loves you. I just want you to be okay. I just want to be here for you.”

  “I’m fine.” I know I’m being a bitch, but I don’t want to talk about Mark anymore. I don’t want to think about him anymore. I just want my life back.

  She doesn’t say anything for a few beats, and then she presses her lips together and nods her head. She blows out a breath. “Okay. You keep pushing away everyone who cares about you. You keep doing what you need to do to fix whatever they broke. No matter what, I’ll still be here to help when you’re finally ready to pick up the pieces.”

  She turns on her heel and heads back toward the club, and I’m left wondering what happened to my best friend...and why I suddenly feel like I’m the one in the wrong here.

  ten

  “You look like shit.”

  I think about slamming the door in Lizzie’s face for that comment, but instead I just leave it open and walk over to collapse on my couch. I hear the door close and watch as she walks toward me in her cute leggings and tank top combo. She looks perky and fresh while I’m in pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt.

  “Welcome to my home,” I say once I’m situated with my head back on the pillows and burrowed under my blanket. Soon this won’t be my home anymore—soon as in later today. The blanket and pillows are some of the last things left I need to pack. I slept on the couch last night because I already packed my sheets and took apart my bed frame.

  I think of the card that fell out of a notebook when I was packing my desk yesterday. I brush it off, though Gram’s words reverberate through my mind. Another second apart from the man you belong with is one more second you don’t get to share with each other, and that’s a downright shame.

  She perches on the chair across from me. “What’s with the boxes?” she asks.

  “I’m moving.”

  She looks surprised. “When?”

  “Tonight, actually.”

  “Oh,” she says, her face falling. “So you won’t make it to dinner tonight?”

  I shake my head. I could probably swing it in terms of time, but it’s too hard. I didn’t have fun last night, and I know it’ll be another night on the Strip with Mark’s condo looming large just down the street.

  “Where are you moving?”

  “I’m staying with a friend until I figure out what I want to do. Indefinitely for now.”

  “Why?”

  “Jill’s moving in with Becker and our lease is up.”

  “You don’t just want to stay here?” she asks.

  “Of course I do. I love this house. But I can’t afford the rent.” It seems like something she can’t understand. Whether or not she makes good money at her own job, she has a very generous brother with far more money than he can spend on his own. Surely money is something no one in the Fox family ever has to worry about.

  “Get your ass up,” she says as she stands.

  “No thanks. I’m not buying whatever you’re selling.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t come all this way for you to ignore me.”

  “Then why did you come?”

  “Well, for one thing, I still want you to come to the wedding.”

  “I can’t.” My response is immediate.

  “Why not?”

  “Crazy thing called airfare. I can’t just fly out to Chicago. I can’t afford a hotel.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “I’m not your charity case.”

  “Don’t be a bitch.” She narrows her eyes at me.

  I love her for giving it to me straight as much as I hate her for the same reason.

  “I care about you, Reese. You were there when Pops died. You held my hand as we prayed together. A bond born from tragedy lasts forever, so you’re stuck with me.”

  “Great,” I mutter, and she giggles.

  “I know we don’t know each other that well, but leaving both my brothers out of it for a minute, I care about you. I feel like you’re the sister I always wanted and never had.”

  “That’s a sweet thing to say, Liz, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” I clutch the blanket tightly against me, my only security as I think about who else will be at her wedding.

  She changes the subject. “Have you been like this since you got home from Chicago?”

  I sit up and shrug. “I’ve felt a little lonely.”

  “You have me.” She gives me a big smile.

  “You’re leaving me to go back home tomorrow night.”

  “You have Jill.”

  I roll my eyes. “She’s always at Becker’s or working.”

  “You have your job.”

  “Which sucks. It’s like whoever’s in charge of kids’ schedules said, ‘Let’s fuck with Reese this year and put all the bad kids in the same class.’ I hate my job.”

  “Do you really hate your job?” she asks. “Or do you have a broken heart and you’re not allowing yourself to enjoy anything because of the misery?”

  I sigh heavily. “I don’t know,” I mutter.

  “We’ve got to snap you out of this. What about a puppy? Puppies don’t let you down.”

  “I don’t want a puppy unless it’s Max.”

  “You met Max?”

  I nod.

  “When?”

  “Mark took me to LA. That’s where we were when he got the call from your mom that Pops had a heart attack. Brian was calling me at the same time.”

  She furrows a brow. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Which part?”

  “Any of it. And with Max, well, Mark just...” She shakes her head. “He doesn’t do that. He doesn’t introduce women to Max. That’s his baby.”

  “Who takes care of Max when Mark’s away?”

  “He has a dog sitter. He usually texts to let her know when he’ll be in town and she drops Max at the house, or sometimes she’ll stay at Mark’s place to take care of the dog there.”

  “She?” I ask as I realize I’m jealous of a fucking dog sitter.

  Lizzie giggles. “Yeah, she. Our seventeen-year-old cousin Abby.”

  “Fine. I’ll let that one slide.” We’re both quiet for a beat, and then I finally ask the question that’s been weighing on me since she mentioned it last night. “Why are you worried about him?”

  “He was in Chicago last week. I hadn’t seen him since the funeral, but he looked like shit. He lost weight. He looked like he hasn’t slept in weeks. He was withdrawn and quiet, but not quiet like in a peaceful way, quiet in like a cagey way.”

  “Cagey?”

  She lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know how else to explain it. Something’s going on with him.”

  “Was Brian there when you saw him?”

  She shakes her head. “He was here in Vegas. He’s kept himself busy with work.”

  “Have they spoken?” I know I’m asking a lot of questions, but I need the answers. I need to know if they’ve made up, if they’re talkin
g to each other, if the fact that Mark forced me to leave opened up any doors for two brothers to mend fences. I’m close with my sister, and I can’t imagine my life without her in it. I don’t want to. They may have an unhealthy competition, but I hate to see a family torn apart, and I hate even more that I’m at the root of the issue.

  “Not since the funeral. At least not to my knowledge.”

  “What happened at the funeral?” I ask.

  “It was afterward. We were at my parents’ house and my dad forced them to talk to each other.”

  “Oh, God.”

  She nods. “It got pretty ugly.”

  “Has he been with other women?” I ask. I know better than to believe what I’ve seen on Twitter.

  She lifts a shoulder. “I don’t honestly know. But if you’ve seen the pictures, don’t worry about them. Penny’s just making sure he maintains his status as a womanizer. She had a lot of work to do after he was spotted with his arm around Gram, you know. Can’t make him look too sensitive or too sweet.” She shakes her finger at me like she’s scolding a child.

  “But he is,” I say.

  She tilts her head. “You know that and I know that, but the general public sees him as a tough bad boy who sleeps around for sport. If Penny didn’t throw out some old pictures of him canoodling the ladies, people might get the wrong idea.”

  “Canoodling?”

  She laughs. “You have a better word for it?”

  “Fondling?”

  “Gross.” She makes a face. “That’s my brother.”

  “Sexing?”

  “Might be even worse than fondling.” She waves a hand in the air. “The point is those are old images, at least as far as I know.”

  “What about the snap?”

  She looks at me like I’m crazy.

  “He sent a Snapchat a few weeks ago with him and another woman. They looked awfully cozy, and snaps are current images. You can’t send one of an old picture.”

  “Mark doesn’t know how to use Snapchat,” she says, rolling her eyes and waving her hand dismissively.

  I nod. “Yeah, he does. I taught him.”

  Her brows furrow. “You did? How long did that take?”

  I giggle and sit up, feeling a little lighter as I reminisce about one of my favorite memories of my time with Mark. “Nearly a five-hour car ride from Phoenix to Vegas.”