Swiped (Chance Encounter Series Book 2) Page 6

  T E N

  Cassie is smiling with a bottle of wine in hand when I open my front door.

  “I hope that’s at least thirteen percent,” I say, stepping back to open the door wider.

  “Twelve and a half.”

  I groan. “You’re useless.”

  “Hey,” she says, stepping inside. “I blew off my date with Owen tonight for you.”

  I scrunch my face and take the wine from her so she can remove her coat. “I thought it was a work thing and you didn’t want to go, anyway?”

  “I mentioned that, did I?” she asks, hanging her coat by the door.

  I nod. “I’m afraid so.”

  “Oh. Well, thanks for having me, anyway. I hate sitting at home thinking about the locker room talk and alcohol he probably gets exposed to at these things.”

  “So why not go?” I ask, heading to the kitchen.

  “I don’t know. It’s always a little awkward since I work at a different firm. I can tell his partners watch what they say in front of me.”

  I turn over the clean glasses I’ve laid out beside the sink. “As if you don’t know everything, anyway.”

  “Exactly,” she says, watching me pour the wine. “More importantly, I haven’t seen you since you were all smug over that bartender, and I’m dying to know if anything’s happened with that.”

  I take two big gulps of red before passing her a glass. “It’s over.”

  “What?”

  “He asked me to be his Valentine yesterday, and I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore.”

  Cassie stares at me like she’s waiting for a punchline. “Whoa. What am I missing? I thought you were crazy about the guy.”

  I grab my glass in one hand and the bottle in the other. “I was, but crazy is the last thing I need to be right now.” I walk around the counter and head towards my worn gray couch.

  “So what happened?” she asks, following me over. “You were so excited for your date last time I talked to you. Was it a disaster or something?”

  “No. It was the best date I’ve been on in my entire life.”

  “So why break things off?”

  I sigh. “He has a kid, Cassie.”

  Her eyes grow wide.

  “An eight-year-old.”

  “What?”

  “She lives in Italy.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Wow.”

  “She speaks Italian.”

  She takes a sip of wine, licks her lips, and puts her glass down on my new Marie Claire.

  “His whole family speaks Italian.”

  “Cool.”

  I shake my head. “Not cool.”

  “Because…?”

  “Because I don’t speak it at all.”

  “I’m confused, Ruby. You broke up with the guy because he’s bilingual?”

  “No, I broke up with him because he ticks too many deal breakers on my list. Plus, the last thing I’m ready for right now is something serious, so I don’t want to lead him on when that’s clearly what he’s after.”

  “What are the deal breakers?” Cassie asks. “I thought you said he had hands like shovels and perfect teeth.”

  “His kid, for one thing,” I say. “I can’t even bear the thought of being someone’s evil stepmother.”

  “Just because your stepmother is evil doesn’t mean all stepmothers are.”

  I cock my head. “Still. I know from experience how hard it is to win over a little girl, and I wouldn’t even be able to relate to her. Or ever come first in his life.”

  She bites the inside of her cheek.

  “Not that I begrudge him his kid. I don’t, but I have a right to respect my limits.”

  “Of course.”

  “And I can’t end up with someone whose entire family speaks a totally different language from me,” I say. “God forbid things got serious and I found myself in a house full of hand wavers that I couldn’t understand.”

  “I can think of worse things than not being able to understand your mother-in-law.”

  I glare at her.

  “Is that it?”

  “The bartending thing bothers me, too,” I say. “I don’t want to date someone who works late all the time and probably has pretty young things making passes at him all day every day.”

  “That I can understand.”

  I shrug. “There are just too many variables that are out of my control.”

  “No one ever said dating was a controlled environment.”

  “I get that,” I say. “But it’s not dating with this guy, Cass. He’s ready to be serious, ready to…”

  She furrows her brow. “What?”

  “Ready to care about me in a way I’m not sure I can handle, much less return.”

  “Why?” she asks. “’Cause he’s so passionate?”

  “That, and because I’m nowhere near done with the things I’m supposed to do before I meet someone and get serious.”

  “What things?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, turning a palm to the ceiling. “Stuff. I’m just not ready, okay? I just want to have fun for a few more years.”

  “Why can’t you have fun with this guy?”

  “He’s too serious. I don’t want to hurt him.”

  She sighs. “Sounds like you already have.”

  “I know.” I prop my elbow up on the back of the couch. “And I feel sick over it, but there’s no way I can keep seeing him when I know I can’t give him what he wants.”

  “Which is…?

  “Love and commitment and all of me.”

  Cassie leans back like someone just spat in her eye.

  “Why are you making that face?” I ask.

  “I wasn’t making a face.”

  “Yes you were. You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

  She shrugs.

  “It wouldn’t be right to lead him on.”

  “I get that,” she says, “but can I be honest with you?”

  “Please.”

  “I don’t think that’s the problem.”

  “What do you mean? Of course it’s the problem.”

  She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “I disagree.”

  “Enlighten me then,” I say, grabbing my wine off the table.

  “I think you’re scared.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” she says. “I think you’re so used to dating boys, who are only interested in the instant gratification that comes with a few drinks and a free ride, that you don’t know how to handle the attention of a real man.”

  “That is not true.”

  She scoffs. “I can’t believe you don’t see it. This is textbook chickening out.”

  “No it’s not,” I say. “It’s more complicated than that. He’s got all this baggage.”

  “You know what, you’re right. The last thing you need is a guy with real responsibilities who knows what he wants.”

  “When you say it like that, it makes me sound like a bitch.”

  “Maybe you are a bitch if you’d break up with a guy for being too employed, too ready for commitment, and too into you.”

  “Maybe I haven’t explained myself properly,” I say. “Because I definitely did the right thing for everyone involved.”

  “I’m not so sure,” she says. “Seems to me you’re consulting all the wrong lists.”

  “What are you talking about? No one knows my lists better than I do.”

  “That may be true,” she says. “But being a neurotic control freak doesn’t give you a license to reject people unfairly.”

  “Lots of people have deal breakers.”

  “You’re right,” she says, leaning over to refill our glasses. “But you know what a lot of people don’t have?”

  “What?”

  “The attention of a sexy Italian man who knows how to treat a woman,” she says, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.

  “Just because we have chemistry doesn’t mean we have a future.”

 
“Well you’ve certainly made sure of that.”

  “What the fuck, Cassie? You’re supposed to be supportive!”

  “I would be if I thought you did the right thing,” she says. “But it sounds to me like you shut this guy down as soon as you started to have feelings that weren’t convenient, and I thought you were braver than that.”

  “I am brave! Breaking up with him was the brave thing to do.”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “Following your heart is the brave thing to do.”

  I swallow.

  “Remember that list you spouted at me when Owen and I got together and you were trying to figure out if we could be serious?”

  I blink at her. “Yeah.”

  “Would you want him to come over and take care of you if your floor were covered in snotty tissues? And does the thought of him getting with someone else upset you?”

  “I remember.”

  “Those are the things you should be asking yourself about Geo,” she says. “Not whether he’s ever made a mistake or whether his working hours suit you. I mean, honestly, Ruby, you haven’t been that excited about a guy since the Backstreet Boys were in the charts.”

  The doubts I’d turned my back on start swirling around me like dark shadows.

  “I’m actually in shock that you kicked him to the curb so fast, especially when your last fifty dates have been nothing more than a string of tragic disasters.”

  “That has nothing to do with it.”

  “Is that what you want, though? To go on bad, dead-end dates with boys for the rest of your life? Because based on what you’ve just told me, it kind of seems like that’s what you deserve.”

  I feel a lump form in my throat. “Are you fucking trying to hurt my feelings? Jesus. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  “I’m your best friend.” She fixes her eyes on me. “And no, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, but I have the right to tell you if I think you fucked up.”

  “Well, it’s too late. It’s over.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. I thought you’d finally found a fish in the sea worth getting excited over.”

  “There will be others,” I say, wondering who I’m trying to convince.

  “Of course there will be,” she says.

  But I can tell by the sound of her voice that she doesn’t believe it any more than I do.

  E L E V E N

  As I drain the last of my coffee, it occurs to me that I haven’t reinstalled Tinder since my storage room sexcapade with Geo. Initially, this leaves me feeling disciplined and empowered, but when I realize I’ve been using my newly found free time to daydream about him, I feel like a wreck again.

  But I did the right thing.

  I’m sure of it.

  Except for the fact that I did it by text, of course, which makes me a proper piece of shit, but I didn’t think I’d be able to look him in the eye and say I didn’t want to see him anymore.

  Obviously I want to keep seeing him, but when I consider our future—like the mature adult I am trying to become every day—I can’t see it working. And yes, a lot of it is the kid. I know what it’s like to be an eight-year-old girl with an absent father who dotes on some woman who means nothing to you.

  Just thinking about suddenly being in that situation myself makes me nauseous. Not only am I not comfortable with the idea, but I actively dread it from head to toe. Unfortunately, I can’t shake the feeling that this is hugely unfair to him.

  After all, he hasn’t done anything to deserve my narrow-minded treatment. Still, he deserves someone who can love every part of him—his hand-waving, international family included. And that reality intimidates the shit out of me.

  Besides, what if I do take him on, and I’m the one who ends up getting hurt? No one wants to go see a heartbroken, depressed psychologist. It could affect my career—or my carefree attitude to dating—setting me back who knows how far.

  I glance down at my desk calendar, dragging my pointer finger to my two o’clock, Mr. Parson. He’s been seeing me unbeknownst to his wife because he doesn’t know how to cope with her recent miscarriages, and he’s determined not to let their struggle destroy their marriage. Naturally, I’m doing everything I can to help him be there for her, and I must say I admire his proactive approach to nurturing his relationship.

  In my experience, people go on the defensive too often, usually at a very late stage in the game. But this guy has his priorities straight, and I am rooting for him all the way.

  I walk to the door and pull it open, parting my lips to call his name. But before I can even speak, Geo comes storming over from the nearest chair in the waiting room.

  “I’ll only be a second,” he says, pushing past me.

  I try to object, but I’m so shocked to see him that he manages to come inside and close the door before I can even ask him what he’s doing here.

  “Don’t get mad,” he says, raising his hands between us so his leather jacket shifts on his shoulders. “I had to see you.”

  My eyes search his, and my heart breaks. He’s still so handsome, so magnetic, and my entire body feels alive at his proximity. “This is my office,” I say. “I’m supposed to be with a client.”

  “You’re supposed to be with me,” he says. “What the hell were you thinking sending me that text?”

  I hang my head and lean against the back of the couch. “I can’t see you anymore.”

  “Bullshit,” he says. “All you can see is me.”

  I lift my eyes and know lying is pointless. “Maybe now, but we have no future.”

  “How can you say that before you’ve given us a chance?”

  “I gave us a chance,” I say. “And there’s nothing there.”

  He steps up to me and drags a thumb across my cheekbone.

  I’m sure he can see too much in my watering eyes, and it scares me.

  “I miss you,” he says.

  “It’s only been a few days. You’ll get over it.” I manage to get the words out before my voice cracks.

  He shakes his head and drops his hand from my face. “Why would you throw this thing between us away before we’ve figured out what it is?”

  I swallow.

  “It’s my daughter, isn’t it?”

  “No.”

  He cocks his head. “Don’t bullshit me, Ruby. Everything was fine until I told you about her.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is,” he says. “That’s when you started pulling away, and that’s why you sent me that fucking bullshit breakup text.”

  “Please keep your voice down,” I say. “This is supposed to be a safe place for people.”

  “And what about your safe place?” he asks. “You get that I wanted to be that for you, right?”

  I press my lips together.

  “You get that I’m crazy about you, that all I’ve been doing since I met you is thinking about ways to make you smile.”

  “I appreciate that,” I say. “But you and I both know that I can never be the number one woman in your life so—”

  “I knew it.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. “But I can’t tell you how much I wanted it to not be true.”

  “What?”

  “She’s a child, Ruby. A child that never asked to be born, a child who has had a tough enough time, and you’re going to put this on her?”

  “I’m not putting anything on her.”

  “You think that’s fair? To disregard what we have because there’s a little girl on the other side of the world who’s the very reason I can love you better than anyone else you might meet?”

  “You’re just worked up right now,” I say. “You’ll find someone else to be passionate about, maybe even someone who speaks Italian and—”

  “I’m not asking you to learn Italian, Ruby.”

  “I know, but—”

  “And I’m not asking you to love my daughter,” he says, clenching his jaw. “She is loved enough.”

&
nbsp; I cross my arms and hug myself.

  “All I wanted was a chance to explore what we have because you woke up feelings in me that I forgot I was capable of.”

  “Geo.”

  He raises a palm between us. “I don’t want any more bad news. I didn’t come here to hear a bunch of excuses.”

  “Why did you come here?”

  “Because I deserve more than a fucking text message for one—”

  “Shhh. Please.”

  “And because you deserve to know this isn’t over for me. That I’m not the kind of guy that can just switch off his feelings because being numb is more convenient.”

  “Then maybe we’re not right for each other after all because I can,” I lie, trying to hold his gaze.

  “I want to believe you’re that cold,” he says. “It would make getting over you a lot easier, but I don’t believe it for a second.”

  “You deserve better.”

  “No I don’t,” he says, his eyes fixed on me. “You’re far more than I deserve, but I was going to work so hard to keep you happy. You might meet someone more educated than me. You might meet someone richer. But you won’t meet someone who’ll work as hard to make you happy. It’s just not going to happen.”

  “That will be my cross to bear then.”

  “Is that what you’re scared of?” he asks. “Do you think you don’t deserve to be looked after?”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “You obviously are,” he says. “You’re scared of an eight-year-old girl, and you’re scared of being with someone who isn’t interested in playing fucking games with your feelings.”

  “That’s not true,” I say. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I know you care about me and something is making you lie about it.”

  I shake my head. “There’s a whole list of reasons why we’re not compatible.”

  “Fuck your list,” he says. “I’m interested in the reasons we are compatible.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek.

  “If people only ever focused on their differences, no one would ever couple up. No one makes it by focusing on the reasons it can’t work,” he says. “I’m convinced we have something here, and for the life of me I can’t figure out why you don’t feel the same.”

  “Because we’re too different, like I said.”

  He laughs. “But we aren’t even. We’re both psychologists-”