CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Liam
“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” I brought down the knife with controlled fury, splitting the rabbit carcass in two with one clean slice.
“I’m guessing it didn’t go well,” Bree whispered to Toni a few feet behind me.
“I can hear you. I’m right fucking here.”
“I said,” Bree said, raising her voice. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well last night.”
“No, it didn’t.” I put the knife down on the chopping block and turned to face the two of them. “It was going fine, then Trish came along, and that threw everything into a tailspin. Fucking Trish.”
Toni walked up to me and put her finger right in my face.
“Don’t you dare blame Trish for this. You lived your life how you wanted to for thirty-odd years? Own it. Trish wouldn’t treat you the way she does if you didn’t let her. You’re a fucking boy toy. You want to change? Change.”
She turned on her heel and walked out of the kitchen. I turned to look at Bree, who just shrugged and followed Toni out to the bar. I turned back to my rabbit.
The thing was, she was right. This had nothing to do with Trish. This was all on me.
Maybe owning that was the first step in a new direction.
When I got home that night, I sat on my couch, pulled out my cell phone, and deleted the contact information for every single one of my hook-ups. Some hurt a little to let go but mostly what I felt was relief. Then I tossed my phone onto the couch, leaned over, and grabbed a new book off the pile on the floor.
*
I spent the week devouring those novels. I’d work long hours, come straight home, and read until I crashed. My phone rang a few times, and I made the mistake of answering twice. I hadn’t realized how many women I’d been involved with and it would take a while to separate myself from the ill-conceived reputation I’d built.
Toni had done a remarkably good job of whittling the selection. There was something useful in every one of the books I read. It wasn’t lost on me, though, that the more I read, the more I found it like porn. It was all right there on the page—the impossible scenarios, the unattainable expectations. What man could possibly live up to these guys? Certainly no man I’d ever met. But, despite that, I kept reading, because idiot that I was, even I was smart enough to realize that there was a kernel of truth in every one of those ridiculous tales.
“Do you remember the one where the couple had to pretend to be married in order to qualify for school housing?” I asked Toni as we worked side-by-side plating dishes.
“Liam, I’m legit starting to worry about you. You realize these are fantasy, right? Not real life.”
“Yeah, whatever, I’m still getting good stuff.”
Toni passed her plate off to the server and wiped her hands on her apron. We were at the tail end of the dinner rush and I suspect I was pissing her off.
“Like what?” she asked.
“Well, that women want to be treated with respect, that I should ask more questions and listen more than I talk, that it’s important to give them their space—”
“Shit,” she interrupted. “You really are learning something. Okay, tell me about the fake marriage for the student housing. Refresh my memory.”
Stella, the server, was standing there listening attentively. I glared at her and she took her plates and returned to the dining room. Somehow, over the past week, my personal life had become everyone’s pet project.
“So anyway, in that one, the guy decorates the entire apartment with everything she loves, so she’ll know he really wants her to stay,” I said.
“Right. That was a good one.”
“I was thinking, what if I did something like that for Maggie? I mean, not decorate her fucking house, but maybe just somehow show her I’m taking an interest in the things she likes, or whatever.”
“Like what?” Toni asked.
“Well, fuck, I don’t know. I hadn’t gotten that far,” I admitted.
I pulled off my apron after the last plate went out and scrounged for food. Poking around in the pots, I found a little crab risotto leftover and dished some out before turning the rest over to the staff.
“Books. She loves reading,” I said. “Maybe I could take her to the bookstore.”
“And get her to recommend some books for you?” Toni suggested.
“Shit, that’s a great idea.”
Toni laughed and rolled her eyes.
“Let me know how it goes.”
*
On Saturday, during the afternoon lull, I took a walk over to Maggie’s hotel. I made a quick stop along the way at the bookstore, popping in to buy a hundred-dollar gift card. The skinny dude behind the cash took my money and I left the shop, pleased with my plan.
When I hit the hotel, I found a bench across the street in the square, right in the line of sight of the door. It was three o’clock, her day was just ending, and there was no way she’d miss me when she walked out. I pulled out my phone and pretended to look busy while I waited. It took about ten minutes, but sure enough, she came out. Dressed in jean shorts and a red T-shirt, she looked incredible. Hair tied back, freckles having multiplied in the sun—I hadn’t seen her in daylight in a while and it took my breath away.
She glanced over and our eyes locked. She gave me a hesitant smile then made her way across the street towards me. I patted the empty seat on the bench and she sat down.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi, yourself.”
“This a coincidence?” she asked.
“Not quite,” I admitted. “I had a situation and I thought maybe you could help me out.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“And here I thought we were done helping each other out.”
Ouch.
“Fair. How about this, then? An exchange.”
“I’m listening.”
“A client at the restaurant gave me a gift card as a thank you the other day. I’d like your help spending it.”
“Okay. I’m intrigued.”
“It’s for the bookstore. I’m not much of a reader, but I thought maybe you could help me pick out a few things. As a thank you, you can grab a book, too.”
She practically leaped off the bench.
“Deal! Let’s go.”
“Right now?” I asked.
“Right now,” she confirmed.
I checked my phone. I had another hour before I had to be back at the restaurant. What the hell? I stood up and together we crossed the street and made our way over. It was only as we were about to enter that I caught the flaw in this plan. The skinny dude behind the counter. Shit.