REX (Finding Love) Page 17

  “So we’re on for seven, right?” I touch a finger to my lips, my composure choppy at best.

  “Yup.” He digs his hands in his pockets, looking far too sexy for me to leave alone with that green-eyed monster. “Oh, you know what? Here.” He pulls out his keys and loosens one from the ring, handing it to me. “Just in case I’m running late, you can let yourself in.”

  “Okay.” I take the key, shuffling my feet along the sidewalk. “Have fun tattooing that green-eyed temptress in there.” My nostrils flare as I toss my hair over my shoulder, unable to hide the thick layer of jealousy covering me.

  “Hey, smartass,” he calls out, and I whirl around, walking backward.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ll be tattooing her, but she’s not the one I’ll be thinking about.” He winks, then disappears inside, and I’m left standing here with a pounding heart and the ground moving beneath my feet.

  I’m checking my list as I leave my office for the day. Lists are basically my lifeline in the event planning business. If one thing goes amiss, it can literally ruin an entire function. I can’t afford to forget anything because there’s absolutely no room for error. The upside, or downside in some cases, is that it carries over to my life. Of course I say all this realizing that I’ve had my share of mental lapses as of late. The cause of my forgetfulness brings a smile to my face.

  I scroll through my to-do’s for tonight to get everything ready for Rex’s surprise, noticing I only have one thing left—wrap up the framed picture of him and Tyler. I reach into my briefcase and pull it out. My heart warms, while my belly does a strange flutter at the thought of giving it to him. I really hope he likes it.

  “Heading out for the night?” Tillie asks as I stroll past her desk.

  “Yes.” I return the picture to my bag. “And you should go home, too,” I add, pushing the sleeve of my blouse back to check my watch. “What are you doing here so late anyway?”

  “What else?” She points to Jonathan’s office. “He has an early morning meeting tomorrow and he needed packets made up for everyone attending. I’m almost done though. I’ll be out of here soon.”

  “Okay, good. Well, I have to run. I have plans,” I say with a hint of mystery as I make my way to the elevator.

  She leans way over the desk, poking her head out. “Have fun.”

  “Oh, I fully intend to,” I reply, nervous energy pulsing through my body at the thought of seeing Rex. He doesn’t seem like he’s had a whole lot of happy in his life, and somewhere deep down, in a place where it’s difficult for me to admit, I’m secretly hoping I can be the one to give him that.

  I’m surprised at how well I managed to get through the day, considering everything it represents. The fact that my mind and hands were occupied with back to back tattoos served me well. Dr. Billings would be proud. Even Zeek, who knows it’s my birthday, hasn’t said shit to me about it.

  With Sienna’s tattoo finished, I begin cleaning up the back room. Pride takes up residence in my chest—this is the one thing in my life that makes me feel good about myself, like I have some sort of worth. A small piece of relevance in this world.

  “Yo, Rex,” Zeek pokes his head around the corner, “I wanted to let you know I got some shots of Sienna’s tattoo for your portfolio. It came out fucking spectacular, man.”

  “Thanks.” I smile, knowing he’s right. “I guess she really liked it. She offered herself up to me when we were done.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” He walks in further, taking a seat on the leather chair. “And I know you’re taking her up on it, right?”

  I pause with my hand on the cloth, surprising myself by grinning when I answer. “No, I’m not.”

  “Are you fucking crazy?” he asks. “Did you see the bod on her? And she’s willing?”

  “Yeah, she’s definitely hot, but—”

  “Wait a second,” he chimes in. “Does this have anything to do with that blonde chick that was here earlier?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe, my ass.” Zeek chuckles. “Man, it must be nice to be you.” He gets up, snatching a couple of rags from the drawer. “I’m gonna finish out there and then I’m taking off. Did you want to grab a beer?”

  “Thanks, Zeek, but I’ve got plans with the blonde chick,” I joke, and he mumbles to himself, brushing past me then disappearing.

  I fish the ringing cell phone out of my pocket, my lips forming a snarl when I see it’s my mother. The ignore button gets pushed immediately and I shove the phone back in my jeans. It’s obvious what she wants, and she should know better than to try to acknowledge me, today of all days.

  Determined not to focus on her tonight, I push those thoughts away and instead think about Vanessa. I chuckle at myself, probably looking like a crazy person to anyone on the outside. But they don’t know me. Whenever she’s around, it’s like my lips runneth over. I can’t believe some of the shit that comes out of my mouth. I guess she brings it out in me.

  Adrenaline runs rampant through my system as I round the corner to my building, practically sprinting now.

  When I step off the elevator, she’s not here. But then I remember I gave her a key, so she might be inside. If not, I can hurry and take a quick shower before she arrives. I jam the key in the lock and push the door open. My keys fall to the ground as my vision blurs, eyes darting around the room. Black and white balloons, a white tablecloth with flowers and candles on my table that barely seats two. The smell of something I can’t make out drifting through the air.

  What the fuck?

  The reality of who I am and where I come from smacks me hard in the face, the chest, the knees, nearly knocking me off my feet. The oxygen slowly being drained from my lungs allows very few words to slip out.

  “What is this?”

  Vanessa turns around at the sound of my voice, her bright smile transforming into a line of confusion across her brow when she sees my face.

  “What the fuck is this?” I ask again, and her response tells me she must think I’m joking.

  I’m not.

  “What do you think this is?” She balances a plate in one hand and the other one on her hip. “I wanted to do something special for your birthday.”

  I dig my hands into my hips as my feet begin pacing the floor in circles, my breathing uncontrolled. “You had no right to do this. I didn’t say you could do this. I didn’t give you a key so you could come in here,” I flail my arms in the air, “and do this.”

  And then I snap, and it’s as if someone flipped a switch inside of me. “How the fuck did you know it was my birthday?” I spit. “Were you snooping around? Asking more fucking questions? I don’t celebrate my birthday ever!” I shout, my neck corded tight with anger. “You don’t fucking know me. You don’t know what this day means to me. I don’t fucking celebrate it!” I yell again. “So you need to take your fucking flowers and your fucking balloons and get the fuck out!”

  She stares at me blankly as if she’s looking into the face of a stranger. “What did you just say?” she asks, an eerie calm in her tone. But I see the storm coming, as I watch every single ounce of happiness drain from her body on a heavy exhale of breath. “You think I was fishing around for information about you? That I was going behind your back?” She takes a few steps forward, still gripping the plate with her fingers, dealing me a menacing glare that has no effect because I can’t see past my rage. “What kind of person do you think I am? Because I’ve got a news flash for you. I wasn’t sneaking around, plotting and scheming when you weren’t looking. Your brother told me about your birthday.

  “What is all this?” She gestures toward the room with her free hand, her voice rising to a shriek. “The fucking flowers and the fucking balloons. I wanted to do something for you. I know how little happiness you’ve had and I thought I could change that for you, give you a little piece of something good. But you know what?” She lets out a foul laugh. “I’m the idiot. I’ve never done anything like this before and now I know
why. Because assholes like you don’t appreciate it. Because you’re not capable of appreciating it.”

  I don’t know why she’s still standing here talking to me after everything I’ve said. But I need her gone. So I do what I do best, what I’ve become a master at—I push away. Because the reality is, I’m not good enough for her. I’m not even good enough for myself.

  The filter for my mouth completely dissolves until suddenly I have no control over my thoughts or my words, self-hatred spewing out of me and I’m helpless to stop it.

  “What do you think we’re doing?” I gesture between us, then scrape a rough hand through my hair, staring at the carpet so my eyes don’t reveal the truth. “We have a good time. We fuck and it’s amazing. I love fucking you. But that’s all this is. Don’t make this something it’s not.”

  And when I finally dare to look up, that’s when it happens. My life passes right before my eyes, moving in slow motion as if I’m watching a scene in a movie unfold.

  Shock forces her eyes to widen, mouth to hang open as the plate she’s holding clatters to the ground, shattering, sauce splattering on the wall, the floor, her dress, but she doesn’t flinch. Instead, she shoots daggers at the asshole standing in front of her.

  Good. I want her to hate me. She couldn’t possibly hate me more than I hate myself.

  Even from this distance, I can tell her eyes are glistening, her lower lip quivering, and I know that I’ve hurt her. But it’s for her own good. As soon as the next words leave her mouth, though, my heart squeezes so tight I find it difficult to breathe.

  “Thank you, Rex, for making me feel like a whore for the first time in my life.”

  Refusing to look at me, she walks over the broken plate, the pieces crushing under her heels. Eyes glued to the door, she’s looking for a way out of the hellhole I’ve just created for her. When she reaches it, she pauses, her head turning slightly to the right, but still she doesn’t meet my eyes.

  “You were right about one thing. I definitely don’t know you. Because I mistook you for someone who was worth it.” She laughs bitterly. “And you’re so not worth it.” Her hand reaches for the knob before everything crashes down around me. “Goodbye, Rex.”

  The lock clicks, the door slamming so loudly behind her, frame rattling on its hinges. The noise confirmation to my ears of what I’ve always known.

  She’s right. I’m not fucking worth it.

  The silence that follows her departure leads to a different kind of insanity. One that I’m not familiar with… loneliness. But it doesn’t last long before rage wraps itself around me, keeping me in a tight hold. I haul back and punch the nearest wall, needing an escape, but the only thing I get is what I deserve—a balled-up fist covered in blood—and even then it’s not enough. So I hit it again, pain my only friend now, a way to numb the absolute agony I’m suffering. And it’s my own fucking fault.

  I pace the room, breathing heavy. Blood drips onto the floor, but I make no attempt to soothe myself. The only soothing balm I’ve ever known just slipped through my fingers. And who’s the fucking asshole? I am. Because I let her go. I didn’t just let her go. I kicked her out the door.

  Devastation seeps through every pore of my apartment: food covering the walls, smeared blood mixing with faded white paint making for one hell of a fucked-up piece of art. I stomp to the kitchen to escape the view, sagging back against the counter when I see the birthday cake. Jesus. She even made me a fucking cake. My gut twists and I can’t bear it any longer so I flee the kitchen and collapse onto the couch, burying my head in my hands as life deals me yet another blow. I’m not sure how much more I can handle.

  After a few minutes, I finally manage to lift my head, my eyes blinking slowly as I take in the scene around me. Something shiny on top of the television cabinet draws my eye in and I move closer to it, hesitating in my tracks when I see it’s a birthday gift. My feet continue to move slowly toward it, almost as if it can bite, before I’m finally standing in front of it. I let out a hesitant breath, then snatch it down, tearing open the card. The picture on the outside is a rose tattoo, and when I open it, it reads:

  I rub my forehead in confusion before I anxiously rip open the package, staring at the picture in disbelief. My legs buckle and I drop to my knees, clutching it to my chest. When I feel like I can bear to look at it again, I hold it out in front of me. It’s a close up shot of Tyler and me at the baseball field, hats backwards, goofy smiles on our faces, Tyler making a peace sign behind my head. I run my thumb over his cheek, over the freckles that I couldn’t remember.

  One lone tear sneaks out from my eye, pain burning a path down my skin. “Blondie,” I whisper, the horrid realization of what I’ve just done drowning me like a fucking tidal wave.

  My eyes survey the room, staring at the wreckage of efforts born out of kindness. She thinks I’m worth it. Or at least she did. I pick up the card from the carpet, rubbing over the letters of her handwriting, desperate to feel her aura around me. But I feel nothing. Because she’s gone.

  A different type of pain that I’ve never experienced before lances through me, and now the only thing I want is to take back the last fifteen minutes of my life—roll back the tape so I can try again—so I can have another chance.

  I spring to my feet, placing the picture frame on top of the cabinet before grabbing my keys from the floor and hightailing it out the door. Determination to find her and explain fuels me, my heart racing as I punch her number into my cell phone and it repeatedly goes to voicemail. But I won’t let that deter me. I head in the direction of her apartment, figuring I can catch the subway, when I spot her through the window of Ryder’s bar.

  Vanessa is standing next to Ryder, and the moment she sees me walk through the door, her lips lock with his, my blood boiling in response.

  He has no right to kiss her; she’s mine.

  “What the fuck?”

  She breaks away from Ryder’s lips, wiping her mouth, shoving a chunk of hair over her shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, all the while knowing I have no right to the answer. She doesn’t owe me a God damn thing now.

  She stares back at me, deadpan. “Just living up to my reputation. Once a whore, always a whore, right?”

  I wince, feeling the color drain from my face, limbs going completely numb. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all those horrible things, Blondie. I just need a chance to explain.” I sound lame, even to my own ears, but I don’t know what else to say to make this better.

  “Don’t call me Blondie,” she huffs, folding her arms protectively over her chest. “My name is Vanessa, and anyway, you were right. All you were was a good fuck, so there’s nothing to explain. I’m pretty sure we’re done here,” she says, devoid of emotion, scanning the bar as if I’m wasting her time. “Is there anything else?”

  The sting of hearing those same words I dealt her is like a knife twisting in my chest. “No,” I respond in defeat.

  “Good, then we’re done. Goodbye, Rex.” She turns her back on me, her voice flat, empty, and inside I’m completely gutted, because deep down I know what I just lost.

  The best thing that ever happened to me.

  The minute Rex walks out the door, my legs give out on me and I collapse behind the bar. I’d like to think I’m strong and tough, but as I try to fight the tears from falling, the only thing I realize is that I’m a big ball of hurt. His words made me crumple inside, and now all I want to do is suck into myself and disappear.

  I’ve never felt so low in my life. I finally allowed myself to begin to care for someone only to have it thrown back in my face. No one has ever made me feel like this before. And no one ever will again.

  Ryder crouches down on the floor beside me. “Hey,” he wipes a single tear away with his finger, “you okay?”

  “I’m great,” I reply, still trying to maintain my tough exterior.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “No, I’m not.” I glance up at him, begging him with
my eyes. “Take me home with you. Please, Ryder, I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  The way he closes his eyes and sucks in a breath tells me maybe he’s not as over me as I thought. But selfishly, I need him tonight. I can’t be alone. I don’t want time to think about Rex, where he can creep into my mind, crawl back into my heart.

  “Please,” I plead again.

  He finally opens his eyes with a new resolve, laying a gentle hand on mine. “You know I can’t say no, Vanessa. When it comes to you, that word isn’t in my vocabulary.”

  “Thank you,” I reply, squeezing his hand.

  “Okay, let me get Vince to take over and we’ll get out of here.” He reaches for something under the counter and comes back with a box of tissue, handing me one. “Here.”

  “Thanks, Ryder.”

  About five minutes later, he returns, and I still haven’t moved. My ass is stuck to the sticky, dirty floor and I couldn’t care less.

  “Come on,” he lifts me from the ground, “let’s go.” His strong hand grips my elbow, tucking it underneath his arm as we make our way outside.

  Silence floats back and forth between us, but I can tell he wants to say something. “So, are you going to tell me what happened? I mean, that kiss was rocking and all, and I played along with your game, but now you owe me an explanation.” He doesn’t look at me, but from the side I can see his lips twitching at the corner.

  “Rocking, huh? Well, you always were a good kisser, Ryder.” I elbow him, even though he can see right through me and my tactics.

  “It won’t work with me. I know you too well, so stop redirecting.”

  “I need a drink first. Actually,” I laugh, even though all I want to do is cry, “I may need a lot of drinks.”

  “Okay.” He nods toward his street as we reach the corner. “I’ve got that.”

  By the time we reach Ryder’s apartment, I’m feeling even worse than I did at the bar. My stomach is tight with longing. There’s only one place I want to be, and it’s not here. But after the way Rex treated me, how he disregarded me as if I meant absolutely nothing to him, I can’t go back. I won’t.