Page 49

Plan

Declan

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?” I said, looking at Roman like I had no idea what he was talking about when I knew a thousand percent what he was referring to. I picked up my beer and played stupid. “Am I not eating fast enough for you?”

“Don’t pretend to be obtuse, asshole,” he said, shaking his head. “We both know I’m not talking about the food.”

“If you have something you want to say, just say it,” I said, glancing over at the wall of TVs and regretting my decision to meet him at the sports bar for the Chiefs game. I wasn’t in the mood to talk.

Or watch football.

Or drink any more than I’d already been drinking lately.

“Well, for starters, you’ve spent the last month working in Omaha.”

“So?”

“So that’s not normal behavior for you,” he said, jamming a handful of fries into his mouth. “And every time I ask you about portfolio selections, you tell me to make the call.”

“So now it’s bad that I trust your judgment?” I said, raising my empty glass when Carol, our waitress, walked by. “Should I not let you make the call? Do you need me to help you form your opinions?”

I knew I was being an asshole, but I was in a bad mood.

I had been for weeks.

“I need you to act like a grown-up, not a pouty, lovesick piece of shit.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” he said, grabbing the ketchup and squirting it all over his plate. “You’ve been a colossal dickhead since Abi disappeared from your life. And I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

“God save me from this bullshit,” I said, wishing he’d drop it. “This has nothing to do with her.”

“Really? Are you seriously going to deny it to my face?” He scowled. “At least be honest.”

“I am being honest,” I said.

“No, you’re not,” he said, badgering me like he was my therapist. “Try again.”

“Why don’t you fuck off and tell me what it is you think is going on, jackass?”

“I will, thank you,” he said, grinning like he’d been waiting for this opportunity.

“I think you guys were pretending and it became more. Your little project ended and you miss her but you’re too much of a Declan Powell to swallow your pride and go to her and tell her how you feel. So you’re miserable.”

“Shows how much you know,” I said, pissed because he was making me think of her when I’d been doing a great job all day of not picturing her face.

“You might be right about the feelings part, but Abi is the one who wants nothing to do with this. She walked away with her intentions very fucking clear.”

“What does that mean?”

I couldn’t mention the story because it still made me sick. The idea that she’d seen me that way, or had been inspired enough by me to write such an insipid character, was far too depressing for me to put into words.

So I only mentioned the other shitty part.

“It means she didn’t take the money, okay?”

The day after our last encounter at my place, I came home and saw it next to the bed.

The check for $40,000.

The necklace from the jewelry event.

The fucking bracelet.

She’d left them all behind.

I’d walked over and picked up the bracelet, remembering how hard she’d cried when I’d given it to her.

Why the hell would she leave it behind?

And the money? It didn’t make any sense, since that was the whole point of this arrangement.

But as I sat there with the golden trinket in my hand, I realized what it meant.

She wanted no connection to me.

It was a massive severance of ties.

Abi would rather walk away from all those “valuables” than keep me—the real-life Connor—in her life.

“She fulfilled her part of the agreement, and then she left the money behind because she wanted to wash her hands of this that badly.”

“Wait a minute—she seriously left the money behind?” he asked, shocked. “Like, she didn’t cash the check?”

“Didn’t even take it with her,” I said, my gut churning as I pictured it sitting there with the jewelry. “She left it on the side of the bed, and if that’s not a message, I don’t know what is.”

“Are you fucking serious?” he said, his voice almost a yell as he looked at me with wild eyes.

“No, I’m making up the whole story. Of course I’m serious.”

“Oh, my God, you’re so stupid, Dex,” he said, digging his hands into his hair as he continued staring at me like I was insane.

“Thanks. This definitely helps my mood.”

“No, you fucking moron,” he said. “Why would she leave the money—think about it. You two had an agreement and she fulfilled it. If she had zero feelings for you, she would’ve taken the money because it was just like a job.

The only reason somebody would change their mind and not take the money, especially that much money, is if they did have feelings for you. ”

I frowned. “Wait. What?”

“Think about the girl you met. You needed a favor and she demanded money. You guys shook on it and boom— that girl would take the money. Now think of the girl you spent time with in New York. That is the girl who didn’t take the money.

And the only reason she wouldn’t take money, in my opinion, is if it felt gross taking money from someone she had feelings for. ”

My head started pounding and I rubbed my forehead, feeling off-kilter.

Because I didn’t think he was right, yet I also felt like there was something there. Something to the question of why she wouldn’t take the money.

It seemed like, now that Roman had said it out loud, if Abi just wanted to wash her hands of me, she actually would’ve taken the money and dipped, right?

But the story.

“I couldn’t have gotten it this wrong,” I said, looking at him. “Could I?”

“I think you could. And remember the day I ran into her at Benny’s and she had zero interest in being my fake girlfriend for Kennedy’s wedding?”

“No,” I said, trying to recall. “What are you talking about?”

“I told you I went to Benny’s, didn’t I?” he said. He obviously thought he’d already told me about whatever the hell this was.

“What were you doing at Benny’s?”

“I always go there for supplements. Their prices are way better than everywhere else. I think they get them whole—”

“Are you serious right now?” I interrupted, desperate for him to get to the actual story.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, I forgot who I’m talking to; you probably don’t have to bargain shop for your supplements like the rest of us.”

“Shut up about the damned supplements—what the hell are you talking about ‘fake girlfriend’?”

He looked at me, shut his mouth, then crossed his arms over his chest, like he was reconsidering telling me.

“Fucking go , Roman,” I said. “Come on .”

“Okay, but you can’t get pissed because I didn’t have time to think it out. Like, it was a spur-of-the-moment idea, and I really thought she was in it for the money, no strings attached.”

Shit, shit, shit. “I’m going to hate this, aren’t I?”

“I think maybe yes.” He sighed, dragged a hand through his hair, then proceeded to tell me a story that made me want to hit my very best friend.

“Are you serious right now?” I yelled, staring at the world’s biggest idiot. “You straight up insulted her with that offer.”

“You’re probably right,” he said, shaking his head. “I swear I was just dreading that wedding.”

“ Shit .” She probably thought I told him about everything as if it was all transactional, and then he came to her, trying to get in on it. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I wanted to get my mom off my ass.”

“You’re such a pain in my ass,” I said.

“Yeah, maybe,” he agreed, looking apologetic. “Do you want me to talk to her for you? Clear it up?”

“ No . I need to talk to her,” I said. I was still pissed when I thought about her notebook, because it was impossible to forget she’d written the words careless and soulless underneath my name in her loopy handwriting.

How was I ever going to not feel attacked by that?

But it was fiction, and I had been reading without permission, so maybe it was time to at least clear the air about that.

“Even if she’s moved on and wants nothing to do with me,” I said, “I don’t want her to think we thought we could just pass her around.”

Was that what she’d meant when she said she was surprised I hadn’t shared her notebook with my little friends ?

“Yeah, God, I’d hate that, too,” he agreed. “I’m so sorry—this is totally my fault.”

I sighed. “This is your fault, but it’s mine, too. Mostly yours, though.”

I picked up my phone and tried texting her, but I got no response, as expected. I tried FaceTiming her, but of course she didn’t answer.

Maybe she blocked me.

“You are hilarious,” Roman said. When I looked up from my phone, he was grinning. “The look on your face is so intense that I kind of feel bad for Abi.”

“Don’t feel bad for her, just help me find her,” I said, gesturing to Carol that I was ready for the check.

“Didn’t you just order another?” she barked from two tables over.

“Changed my mind and need the check.”

“Maybe go to Benny’s,” Roman suggested.

“It’s already poured—I’m gonna have to charge you, hun,” Carol said.

“Fine,” I said, distracted, then said to Roman, “She only works three days a week, and I don’t want to be the creepy guy who shows up at her job.”

“Why not? It works in the movies.”

“Yeah, it also works in real life for women with stalker exes who show up at their places of employment. I don’t want to put her in that situation.”

“It’s already been poured,” Carol said again from where she was leaning on the bar, probably shit-talking me to the bartender. “Sure you don’t want it?”

“Just the check, please,” I bit out.

“Okay, so then what do you do?” Roman asked.

“Does your friend want it?” Carol yelled.

“I don’t give a shit about that beer,” I yelled back, needing the world to shut the hell up so I could think.

But the entire bar shut up then, as it seemed every eye in the place was on me.

Looking at me like the asshole I truly was.

“Sorry, Carol,” Roman yelled, pointing at me. “This one’s in love and losing it. Please forgive him.”

That made her laugh, and the killer glares from around the restaurant softened just a bit. I was grateful for my idiotic friend’s quick thinking.

“So,” Roman said, grinning like he was having the very best time. “I think I have a plan.”