Mr. Charming, page 13
“Who?”
He glares before speeding to get in the far left lane. “Your ex.”
I grab the holy shit handle. “Tweetie?”
He groans. “I’m hoping you don’t have any other exes who are going to call me up and school me about how I’m treating you.”
I bite my lip to stop the smile from emerging. Tweetie called Decker to tell him to pick me up?
“Oh god, look at you.” He shakes his head. “You guys are, like, next-level demented with the games you play. First the guy acts like he wants to beat my ass, and now he’s telling me to pick you up at the airport, and you’re going gaga over him.”
“I am not.” I cross my arms, but in truth, I kind of am.
Decker aggressively passes another vehicle, jerking the car to the right lane, then back into the left.
“Are you trying out for Formula One or something?”
“No, I want to get home. Speaking of which, where do you live?”
I tell him what exit to get off on.
“Honestly, Tedi, this is absurd. Why are you doing this?”
I shrug. It was a really good idea at first. “You don’t get it. And I’ve hardly asked you for anything. I’m sorry about you having to come get me, but I didn’t know anything about it. Do you want me to buy you some donuts or something?”
He takes the exit toward my apartment, and his shoulders fall at the stoplight. “A glazed donut isn’t going to fix this.”
“What about one with sprinkles? You always loved the sprinkles.” I smile wide and act excited as if he’s four years old and I can bribe him.
He blows out a breath. “I have no idea how you manage to get me to agree to everything.”
“I know I’m abusing being the older sister of your best friends, but I have no choice. Like tonight, having you pick me up saved me from the temptation of Tweetie taking me home. It’s not easy not giving in where he’s concerned.” I rock my head back. “But I do feel bad about you coming to the airport, so let me buy you a donut or two.”
The light changes, and he turns left toward my apartment. “Help me understand why I’m putting myself through this?”
I stare at the city, quiet at this time of night. The homes lining the street are dark. “Have you ever been in love?”
He sighs. “Once.”
“Then maybe you get it. Tweetie and I are ‘all in’ people. We don’t do things halfway, so when we fell in love, we fell hard and fast. But we came down just as hard and fast when things ended. We know we should stay away from one another, but there’s this invisible string still tying us together that only we can feel. You’re like my buffer, forbidding him from getting too close. I know it doesn’t make sense—”
“It makes perfect sense.” Decker pulls into the donut shop just down the road from my apartment.
“Thank you.” I cover his hand on the gearshift. “I really appreciate you doing this.”
He doesn’t say anything. “You’re buying me a hot chocolate too.”
He turns off the car and gets out, shutting the door. He waits for me at the front of his car with his hands stuffed in his pockets, and when I climb out and meet him, he falls in line with me, knocking me with his shoulder.
We don’t say anything and find a place by the window where we eat our donuts and drink hot chocolate without asking the other one any questions about our past loves, but I see it in his expression, why Decker understands—someone from his past still haunts him.
Twenty-Eight
Tedi’s Journal Entry
Eight years ago
Nashville
To my older self,
* * *
Tweetie being traded while still recuperating from his knee injury and him having to sit on the bench for a new team isn’t helping us remain as connected as we usually are since he moved to Nashville. The situation is stirring up a bunch of shit for me, and I worry we’re about to ruin everything. There’re so many questions, so many what-ifs hanging in the air around us. But I feel all my abandonment issues nipping at my heels, sending me running faster and faster toward our doom. Before you judge, future me, let me remind you exactly what’s happening.
* * *
I decided to surprise Tweetie in Nashville. When I told him I couldn’t uproot my life and my goals to follow him to Nashville, he said he understood, but I know he didn’t. Maybe he did a little, but not enough. It was so hard to say no—so hard—but I felt like I owed it to the little girl who said she’d never hang her life on a man, that she’d always have her own money, her own dreams, her own sense of self.
I went to the condo he rented in downtown Nashville and sweet-talked the doorman into letting me up and into his place. Thankfully, I was on the approved visitor list, but the doorman went above and beyond by unlocking the apartment for me after I showed him a ton of photos of the two of us through the years.
I scattered flowers along the floor, leading to the bedroom. Then I turned off the lights and used the battery-operated tea lights to light the path. I opened a bottle of champagne, pulled out two glasses, and changed into the new red lingerie I’d bought for him.
Tossing more rose petals on his bed, I waited until he should’ve been on his way home, then I sank down in the middle of the bed, posing in my best sex kitten position, and waited for him.
I was going to make this work with him. We were so good for so long. Right after he left, our video chats were awesome. Little texts would be sent to each other with I miss yous and I love yous. But in recent weeks, things had changed. Video chats weren’t happening, being replaced with good morning and good night texts. I hadn’t gotten a vulgar dick pic from him in a month. That should’ve been my first sign.
After talking to Saige, I decided we needed this weekend together. He was off and it would just be us, reconnecting and finding our way back to one another. Finding our way back to being the best couple I’d ever known.
I waited for a half hour after he should’ve been home, and the condo door never opened. I grabbed my phone from my nightstand, anything to keep my mind from wandering to a worst-case scenario, and scrolled through my emails from work. After an hour had passed, I shot him a text.
* * *
Call me when you’re on your way home.
* * *
The three dots never popped up.
My heart sank. I kept repeating to myself nothing was going on, he was just delayed, maybe stopped at the grocery store or to grab something to eat. But I could feel the panic and the anxiety setting in.
I probably should’ve told him I was coming. I should’ve given him the heads-up to be here, then surprised him with the candles and the roses and the lingerie.
My first mistake was going to the blogs after I’d checked my work emails. I used to stay off them. Never wanted to be sucked into rumors and gossip that most often weren’t true. But I had to know if Tweetie was making me a fool. Was I lying in his bed while he was out with someone else? Although I hated myself the more my thumbs scrolled, it didn’t stop me.
Then I found something. A picture of him with a blonde at some club. Comments about how funny and down-to-earth he is. Innocent enough, but my eyes only zeroed in on the girl’s hand lying flat on his stomach. I read through every comment, and from what people were saying, it sounded like Tweetie was at the clubs an awful lot. A lot more than he had told me. And it was women who were commenting. Suddenly panic and fear had me in their grip, and each comment I read felt like a bullet through my flesh.
He’s so nice.
He’s so friendly.
He made me laugh so hard I almost peed myself.
He bought me and my friends a round of drinks.
Thank goodness Florida gave him up.
He was born to be a Nashville boy.
Thank you, Florida.
Welcome, Tweetie.
My new favorite player, Tweetie Sorenson.
I closed out of the app before I screamed so loudly someone thought I was being murdered. Tossing my phone on the rose-petal-covered bed, I threw on one of his sweatshirts and went into the family room, knowing what I was going to do.
I hated myself the entire time I scoured his apartment, almost wanting to find something just to prove my demons right. He was out with another girl right now. He’d found someone here in Nashville to replace me and was just afraid to tell me.
At some point, I lost control of myself. That little voice that said I was crazy to think he was cheating on me vanished, leaving only the voice that was certain he was done with me as I searched his things like a trained FBI agent.
I covered every inch, and I found myself almost wanting to get one piece of evidence so I could be waiting in the dark when he returned home. It all played out in my head—I’d be holding the piece of evidence, shining a flashlight to reveal myself and the evidence, and watch his face pale. I’d already have my bag packed, but I’d leave the roses and candles to show him what he could have had tonight. I’d leave him without giving him a chance to try to get me back. It was like a movie playing out in my head.
A key hit the doorknob, but I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t have anything to yell “aha” and confront him with.
The sun had already descended, and his apartment was masked in an orange glow from the stupid tea lights I’d set out.
I stood to the side so he couldn’t see me, hoping she was with him so she could see what kind of guy he was. But no woman’s voice came as I heard his bag thud to the floor.
“Tedi?” he called.
The tension in my body fell at the hope I heard in his voice. At him seeing the rose petals and candles and assuming I was here because no one else would have gotten into his apartment.
I walked around the corner, and his face lit up. God, what was wrong with me? I was being crazy.
He broke the distance, his eyes soaking me in with so much desire, I thought I’d burst into flames. “I love it when you wear my clothes.” He picked me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Babe, what are you wearing under my sweatshirt?”
I gripped him harder, and he let the question go. He didn’t kiss me right away but buried his head in the crook of my neck. And then it happened. First the sting of tears. Then the painful closing of my throat. Third, a rasped apology. “I’m sorry.”
He pulled back and stared into my tear-filled eyes. “What’s wrong?”
He walked me over to the couch, sitting down so I was still straddling him. I kept my face in his neck, not wanting him to look at me. He’d see what I had done and how I’d failed to trust him and how certifiable I could be.
He wouldn’t let me hide, though. Instead, he nudged me to look at him. “What is it?”
“I’m a horrible person.” More teardrops fell down my cheeks, but he didn’t brush them away.
He froze, staring at me, waiting for me to explain.
“I just searched your entire apartment.”
He didn’t say anything but stared into my eyes.
“I thought you were out cheating on me when you didn’t come home.”
He nodded, but still nothing.
“I have no excuse. I’m a horrible human being.” I rested my forehead on his collarbone.
He chuckled and ran his hands down my hair. “You’re not a horrible human being, but did I do something to make you think that I was being unfaithful?”
I shrugged.
He said my name with the same patience and understanding he almost always had for me. This was the Tweetie who got me over this fear all these years together. And in that moment, I found myself upset with Jana and Kane for trading him, because they were making me into a nutcase and ruining my relationship with the best guy in the world.
I pulled back, and he cradled my cheeks in his hands. “I just…”
“Talk to me.”
“Things are changing. We barely talk. We barely text. You don’t send me dick pics anymore.” A wail slipped from my throat, and I tried to hide my face, but he wouldn’t let me hide from him.
His laugh bounced around the half-empty apartment. “So what you’re saying is that you miss my dick?”
“I miss you.”
He laughed harder, and his smile grew. “I know. I was joking. Okay, so we suck at this long-distance thing. Noted.”
His thumbs dried my tears. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. When you said you were a horrible person, the same thought came to my mind, and I just about keeled over. I know I’ve been lost in my own head since the trade.” We held one another for a few minutes, and he kissed my forehead. “Funny that you’re here. I was going to surprise you, but I had to meet with the trainer first, then I was coming here to pack my bag.”
Maybe if I had waited for him to come to me, this feeling of guilt wouldn’t be invading every cell in my body. I hate the version of me that just made an appearance, and I hate that this trade made it come to the surface like some parasite lying dormant in me all these years.
Tweetie’s hands slid under his sweatshirt. “Lace, silk, and skin. As much as I love it when you wear my sweatshirts, can I see what’s underneath?”
I sat back in his lap and grabbed the hem of the sweatshirt, peeling it off my body.
“Fuck, how did I get so lucky to score you as my girlfriend?”
Without saying anything else, he picked me up and walked me into the bedroom. He didn’t ravish me but took his time, as if he was savoring my body, my very presence. We stayed up talking about how we would get through this until we figured out a way for us not to do a long-distance relationship.
I was back in my familiar, blissful state with him until a woman knocked on his door the next morning, accusing him of impregnating her. All at once, I was back to being the insecure, anxious woman I’d been twelve hours before.
Twenty-Nine
Tweetie
“Who invited Tedi?” I ask, seeing her and Decker in the stands for Bodhi’s game as we make our way around the rink.
I fist-bump Bodhi on my way to the seats with Rowan and Conor.
“The girls asked them to join us. Surely, you don’t mind since you’re all Team Decker, now that he makes Tedi happy?” Conor claps me on the shoulder.
“Is this the same fucked-up shit you did to Henry?” I grumble.
Rowan laughs. “Nah, we know better than to try to force you to do anything.”
Tedi’s in a huddle with the girls, and Decker sits next to her, but he’s on his phone again.
Rowan and Conor sit closer to Decker, so I do the same.
“Hey, Decker,” I say, putting out my hand.
He shakes my hand, then Rowan’s, and lastly Conor’s. “Hey.”
“When’s the last time you’ve been to a novice game?” Conor asks.
“Since I was a novice,” Decker says. “Ice hockey isn’t my thing.”
“Is field hockey?” Rowan asks, laughing.
Tedi’s ears must perk up because she turns in our direction, her hand immediately seeking out Decker’s leg.
You can do this. She’s happy. Look at her fucking smile.
“Decker’s not really good on the ice,” she says, shaking her head and smiling.
“Thanks, babe.” Decker stretches his arm out around the back of Tedi.
Would anyone notice if I ripped his arm off?
“Come on. You admitted it yourself. That’s why you’re a baseball player.” She pats his leg and leans in.
I turn my head before I have to witness her lips touch his cheek.
If I gave him a bloody lip, she wouldn’t be able to kiss him.
“That’s because hockey is the hardest sport.” Conor puts his hands on Decker’s neck and squeezes.
“You think so, huh?” Decker asks.
“We have to skate, control a small puck with a stick, and body check. It’s not easy, my friend.”
“Last time I checked, you sat your ass in front of a net and had a huge stick and pads to block the pucks. Doesn’t seem that hard.” Decker picks up his coffee from whatever café he and Tedi stopped at before this, since they have matching cups.
What a couple-y thing to do.
“You sit your ass in the dirt and wait for a ball to dribble over to you,” Conor argues.
I keep my eyes on the rink, waiting for this game to start so it can be over and I can leave. They can all do whatever they want to do afterward. I’ll find something else. I don’t have to witness her being happy every damn time I’m with my friends.
“Dribble? You try catching a ball going one hundred miles per hour and then throw it to first before the runner gets there.”
Conor laughs. “And what was the Colts’ record last year? I’m thinking you missed a lot of those hundred-mile-an-hour balls.”
Decker shakes his head, but there’s a smile on his lips. “I didn’t get the Golden Glove award two years ago for my mediocre skills.”
“Relax, boys, both of your sports are hard in different ways.” Tedi smiles, and our eyes catch for a second before I turn back to the ice.
Jade and Henry join us, Jade heading to the girls and Henry over to us.
“There’s open skating after the game if anyone wants to join us.” Jade sits down in the row in front of the women and rests her elbows on her knees, watching Bodhi.
“Jade, come back here. He’s fine,” Henry says, but she shakes her head without turning around.
“We’re here!”
I turn to see Jade’s teenage twin brothers rushing over. Owen and Waylon pound on the glass when they reach us.
“Go, Bodzilla!”
Bodhi must hear them because I see his head move in their direction, but the cage on his helmet blocks most of his face. He lifts his hands in a wave.
“About time. He’s been asking about you guys all day,” Jade scolds them as they shake our hands and hug the girls.
