Page 37 of How Freaking Romantic

He’s late. Very late. In fact, I barely make it home in time to shower and change before I have to head back downtown to campus for class.

Thankfully, the sign is gone from the front of my building, and I’m so relieved that I barely notice that the shower is still lukewarm.

I stand under the spray and smile to myself.

I’m sore, that wonderful sore that aches in all the right places.

The kind that keeps a stupid smile on my face as I dry off and dig through my laundry bag for clean underwear.

It’s only as I have it all poured out on my bed that I realize there’s something missing.

I reach for my phone and type out a text:

BEATRICE

I LEFT TUESDAY AT YOUR APARTMENT

A moment, then I see the three dots that show he’s writing back.

NATHAN ASSHOLE

Good thing you have Wednesday through Monday.

BEATRICE

NOT TRUE

I AM MISSING FRIDAY TOO BUT THAT WAS A PRE-NATE CASUALTY

NATHAN ASSHOLE

That sounds like a good story.

BEATRICE

IF YOU ENJOY PETTY LARCENY AT THE LOCAL LAUNDROMAT THEN YES YOU’LL LOVE IT

NATHAN ASSHOLE

Tell me when you come over tonight.

BEATRICE

ARE YOU ASKING ME TO STAY OVER OR TO COME FIND MY UNDERWEAR

NATHAN ASSHOLE

Both.

My smile broadens as I put my phone down.

I’m seeing him tonight. We’re really doing this.

But with each wonderful ache, there’s also a nagging voice in the back of my head pointing out what this means.

And what does it mean? We hadn’t even gotten that far, only that we both want this.

But what is this? I had been so clear about not wanting anything more, and he had agreed… Did he just change his mind?

Or worse, had he not changed his mind at all? When he said he didn’t want this to end, was he just talking about sex?

I shake the thought loose as I file through the clothes in front of me.

No, we’re well past that point. Maybe if it had just been Friday night, but…

the weekend changed that. It changed everything.

And as incredible as that is, it also has me on edge.

I’m not only worried about what that means to him, but what it means to everyone else.

Which lands me on an uncomfortable reality: I have to tell Jillian.

I manage to procrastinate for a while. I decide on an outfit—my nice suede boots and a green velvet skirt I save for special occasions—and head downtown, keeping myself busy with office hours and then with class.

It’s not until I finish grading assignments later that afternoon that I catch sight of my phone sitting next to me on my desk.

Stop being a coward , a voice says in the back of my mind.

I scowl, even as I pick up my phone and unlock it. When I do, the screen lights up. Three text messages and four missed calls. All from Jillian.

Fuck .

She knows.

My heart ricochets in my chest as my mind flips through every possible way she could have learned. Maybe someone saw us at the grocery store, or maybe Maggie let something slip about that first time…

My hands start shaking, reducing my fingers to clumsy stubs as I unlock my screen. I ignore the texts, instead going straight to my contacts and finding her number.

It rings once before it connects… but there’s only silence on the other end.

“Jills?” I finally venture.

A soft sob.

Oh God. I slowly sit down and take a deep breath. “Jillian, I can explain—”

Jillian’s soft voice interrupts me. “He abandoned him.”

I blink. “What?”

“Josh abandoned Tex.”

My brain is already five steps ahead and stumbles, trying to find the thread of the conversation again. “I… I don’t understand.”

“The doggie daycare called. Tex is still there. He’s been there since Friday, Bea. Josh never came to pick him up and he hasn’t paid for the month yet. They told me that if no one claims him today they have to list him as abandoned, and I’m still in Boston…”

Another soft sob.

The flood of relief that my secret is still safe is quickly overwhelmed by red-hot anger. I always knew Josh didn’t care about the dog. We all did. But I didn’t know he was capable of abandoning him just to get back at Jillian.

“God, he’s such a dick,” I seethe.

“Bea—”

“It’s going to be fine. I’ll go pick up Tex right now,” I say as I stand and start for the door.

I’ll miss class, but that’s fine. I’m already ahead on the reading anyway.

Besides, it will be worth it for the look on Josh’s face when I show up with his precious dog in hand.

“Do they need a credit card or anything?”

“No, I gave them mine, it’s just…” Her voice trails off, but I can still hear the hint of something fraying the edge of her tone. Something that sounds a lot like fear.

I pause at my office door.

“What is it, Jills?”

A shaky breath. Another sob. “It’s Josh.”

“What about Josh?”

“He wouldn’t leave the dog like that. He wouldn’t do that unless…”

Unless something is wrong. She can’t get the words out, but I know.

Something clicks in my brain, a shift from anger to concern that is so intense that it’s like I have tunnel vision.

This is what I’m good at, a talent honed after years of helping my mother pick herself up after each and every breakup.

The emotions can wait until this is over; right now I need to move.

I step into the hallway and lock my office door, then rush to the elevator. “Have you tried calling him?”

“He’s not picking up. I don’t know who else to call—”

“I’m heading down there right now, Jills,” I say, pressing the down button frantically until the elevator doors open and I step inside. “It’s going to be fine.”

The doggie daycare is right around the corner from the apartment, so I grab Tex on the way.

They apologize to me for some reason, like it’s their fault his owner is a self-absorbed prick.

I don’t tell them that, though, and I don’t answer their unvoiced questions as to why I’m there instead of Jillian or Josh.

I just take Tex’s leash and leave, my pace steady as I walk down Barrow Street.

I’m doing a good job of controlling the anxiety roiling my pulse as Tex and I ascend the steps to the building’s front door.

As usual, it’s not locked, so I let myself in and climb up the stairs to the second-floor apartment.

It’s not until I’m standing at the door with its familiar welcome sign that I notice that it’s not locked, either.

It’s not even closed the entire way; the latch is resting outside the strike plate.

I’m about to push it open when I pause. There are voices coming from the inside. Two voices.

A kernel of something uncomfortable, something raw, sprouts in my belly. Then I push the door open.

Josh is standing there in the front hall, his hair long and unwashed, and his sweatpants loose at his waist. Beside him is a man shorter than me, with his hair tucked under a knit cap and his messenger bag open for Josh to look inside.

But Josh isn’t looking inside. He’s staring at me, his eyes wide with dread.

It takes the other man a second to turn and notice me, too. His concern is mixed with confusion as he darts his gaze between us.

After a long moment, Josh clears his throat. “Hi, Bea.”

I step forward, pulling Tex with me, and point at the man without taking my eyes off Josh. “Who is this?”

Josh’s jaw slackens. “Uh…”

“I’m Gerald,” the man volunteers.

I still don’t bother looking at him. “Shut up, Gerald.”

“Oh… Okay…”

I narrow my eyes on the husk of the man I used to know. “Who the fuck is this, Josh?”

I keep my gaze on him, raising an eyebrow as the silence stretches out between us.

Josh finally sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You need to go, man.”

“But—”

My hand is already on the guy’s shoulder, turning his body and pushing him out the front door. “Bye.”

I slam the door shut before he can object, locking it for good measure.

When I turn back around, Josh is gone. I head down the short front hallway to the kitchen and find him there pacing back and forth. Tex is trailing him, too loving and forgiving to realize this is the same person who abandoned him.

“Who was that, Josh?”

“Did Jillian call you?” he asks, finally stopping to stare at me with wide eyes. No, not just wide. Wild.

“You never picked up Tex on Friday,” I hiss, swallowing back my apprehension. “You know, the dog you’re suing her for?”

He cringes, and I realize he forgot. The fucking dog is sitting at his feet, trying desperately to get his attention, and he still hasn’t put it together.

“Fuck…” he murmurs, collapsing into the nearby folding chair and letting his head fall into his hands. His leg is still moving, though, bouncing, bouncing, bouncing, and goddammit, I know. I wish I didn’t, but I know.

“So, what was Gerald dropping off?” I ask, glancing back at the doorway. “Just pills, or are you on something else now?”

He laughs bitterly. “Fuck you, Bea.”

I ignore him. “You dropped one in that box of stuff for Jillian, you know. I found it and I tried so hard to come up with an excuse for you. After ten years, I’m still trying to make excuses for you!”

He shakes his head, still staring at the floor. “Get out.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere. You think I’m going to leave you like this right now?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” he growls, finally meeting my eyes. God, he looks angry, unhinged. But I don’t move. “You already picked Jillian, remember? You fucking hate me, so this should make you happy, right?”

I take a step toward him. “I didn’t pick anyone. You’re the one who decided to divorce Jillian. You’re the one who went after everything she’s worked so hard for, just because you couldn’t deal with this like a fucking adult.”

“Fine! Then just let me be the bad guy and get the hell out of my apartment.”

“It’s not your fucking apartment!” I bellow, waving around the room. “This isn’t your life anymore! Why can’t you let it go?”

He nods, his eyes dropping again. “Right.”

Something shifts. I don’t know what it is, but it feels like I missed a step. Before I can ask, though, he stands.

“Thanks for the pep talk. Now I need you to leave.”

“Like hell I am.”

“Get the fuck out, Bea.” He’s staring at me from under his brow.

It’s not the Josh I know, but it’s still familiar.

I remember the last time I saw this version, back when we were in college.

It was only a few weeks before graduation, at a party off campus.

He had been clean for just over six months, but I still noticed when the guy approached him.

I saw Josh contemplate for only a minute before he walked back toward us, told us he was leaving early.

Jillian hadn’t suspected anything, only kissed him on the cheek and told him to call her later.

But I knew. So I followed him outside, followed him until he was about to get in the guy’s car, and then I confronted him.

It was a blowout. Travis would tell me later that we attracted a crowd, but I didn’t see them. All I saw was Josh, huge, hulking Josh, staring at me with venom in his eyes as I yelled and screamed and told him exactly how I felt about what he was doing, exactly what it would mean.

He was livid. Worse than livid. In that moment I think he hated me. And for two people who were as close as siblings, that had hurt almost as much as the lies. But despite that look, he hadn’t gone with the guy. And he didn’t relapse. But we never talked about it.

And here’s that look again, pinning me in place in the middle of this barren kitchen.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “Not until we talk about this.”

“Or what?” He scoffs. “What are you going to do? Tackle Gerald when he comes back?”

“Oh, I will absolutely tackle Gerald if he comes back.”

He sidesteps me and starts for the front door. “Then I’ll just find somebody else!”

“Like hell you will!” I bellow, rushing past him and blocking the exit. He is bigger than me, but he always cowers when I use that voice. “You’re not going anywhere, and no one is coming in until you deal with this.”

He runs his hands through his hair. “Fuck you, Bea!”

“Fuck you, too!”

He stares at me for a long moment, dark rage in his eyes that still looks so foreign there. And then he turns, bounds down the hall. Tex follows close behind, his paws offering a steady rhythm against the hardwood, until the bedroom door slams shut.

I lean back against the front door and slide down to the floor. A minute passes, then I hear my phone ding in my bag.

I reach in and read the text message.

NATHAN ASSHOLE

Leaving work at about 7.

Meet you at my place at 8?

God, I want to see him right now; I want him to tell me it’s going to be okay, even though I know it won’t. But he is Josh’s lawyer, which means he either knows about this and hasn’t done anything about it or that he doesn’t know at all, and I have no idea what to do with that.

It’s just so unfair. So fucking unfair I want to scream, but instead I sit there and text back:

BEATRICE

CANT MAKE IT TONIGHT

SOMETHING CAME UP

A moment. Then the three blinking dots appear moments before his reply:

NATHAN ASSHOLE

Everything okay?

BEATRICE

ITS FINE

COFFEE TOMORROW?

Those three fucking dots again, they dance on the screen for almost a full minute before his reply finally arrives:

NATHAN ASSHOLE

Sure. See you at 12:30.

I slide my phone back in my bag and let my head fall back, hitting the door with a thud.

And I wait.