Betting on You(92)

“It’s okay,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the couch. “How’s Charlie?”

I tried swallowing, but it felt like there was a rock in my throat. “You know—typical Charlie.”

“Can we talk about the engagement?” she asked, so sweet that it made me sad. Sad for adding stress to her happily ever after, and sad for me, for what I was about to lose.

I nodded, but couldn’t manage more than that.

She looked disappointed by my silence, and then she asked, “So do you not like Scott?”

I pictured Scott, teasing Charlie about PDA in Colorado, and I realized that I actually did like him, just not his place in my world. I didn’t know if she’d get it. I said, “It’s not that I don’t like him; it’s that I don’t want what he brings to our lives.”

She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

I took a deep breath and went for honesty.

“I mean that I don’t want to move. Like, I’m sure you’ll want to move into his house if you marry him, but I don’t want to move into a strange house. I don’t want to live with him, and I definitely don’t want to live with his kid, who is a total stranger. How will that ever feel normal, moving my things and myself into someone else’s life?”

I hated that I was getting emotional again.

“It’s a nice house,” she said, reaching out and running a hand over my hair. “With an extra room that’s supercute. And it’s downstairs, next to a finished living room and wet bar that no one uses, so it’ll be like your own apartment.”

My stomach hurt—literally—at the confirmation that we would be moving in with him. My vision got blurry, and I wished I could just turn off my emotions.

“Bailey,” she said patiently. “I know change is hard, but I wouldn’t agree to this if I didn’t think it would be good for you.”

I sighed and said, “I know.”

Even though I didn’t mean it. I knew she had my best interests at heart, but I also knew she was an optimist who lived by the motto of It will all work out.

“I know in my heart this will be wonderful, Bay,” she said, still petting my hair like she used to when I was little. “Just give it a chance, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, nodding.

Looked like it was going to happen, whether I liked it or not.



* * *



I tried calling Charlie after my mom and I had a long talk, telling myself that it’s what I would’ve done if we hadn’t made out.

But he didn’t answer. I got his voicemail for the first time since I’d met him.

I texted him: My mom just confirmed that we WILL be moving in with Scott.

And two hours later, he still hadn’t responded.

So I hadn’t been paranoid.

If it were someone else, it would be possible that he was just too busy to text me back.

But I knew Charlie.

I knew his work schedule—he was off today; I knew his texting habits—he always had his phone on him; and I knew his family’s schedule—they were out of town and he was home alone.

There was no reason—other than a freak accident—that he wouldn’t have responded to me by now. So there was only one explanation.

He was post-makeout ghosting me.

I flopped down on my bed, mortified and confused and sad by what appeared to be Charlie’s rejection. Because as unorthodox as we’d always been—first as strangers who didn’t like each other, then as coworkers and sort-of-friends—he’d never done anything to make me feel bad about myself.

He’d always teased, but he’d never been unkind.

What an asshole, I thought as Mr. Squishy jumped onto my bed with a little mreow grunt. What a complete and total asshole.

Because he knew me—really knew me. He knew my anxieties and neuroses, and he knew something like this would make my brain turn endless cartwheels.

And apparently he didn’t care.

Maybe he was the jerk that I first thought he was.

Part of me thought I was ridiculous for being pissed, because Charlie hadn’t technically made any promises.

But the angry part of me disagreed, because dammit, he had made promises. We might not have labeled what we were, but when he’d kissed away my tears, that was a promise. When he’d held me while I cried, that was a promise.

Maybe not a promise to be my boyfriend, but a promise to be something to me.

He knew that he’d become my something, and it felt so fucking personal that he was fine with just leaving me alone when he knew I needed him. If he were to text me about something happening with his mom and her boyfriend, I’d respond—even this very second—because aside from everything else, I cared about his feelings.

He obviously didn’t feel the same.

I felt tears start to sting my eyes as I realized that everything that had passed between us was all just a big lie.

And I had fallen for it. All of it.

How could I be such a fool?





CHAPTER FORTY-SIX Bailey




I took a deep breath, rubbed my freshly glossed lips together, and opened the door to the employee entrance. Charlie had literally ghosted me the entire weekend, and now we were going to have to work together. I was sad, hurt, and also white-hot pissed. I had no idea how I was going to behave around him.