Page 87 of Don't Bet On It
“Which was common knowledge, apparently,” I agreed, my expression dark. “I like Cora. I don’t know why anybody would ever cheat on her.”
“I’m not a proponent of that stuff myself,” he said, likely for my benefit. “I like Cora too. My father is many things. He’s not a cheater, though. That’s not what he and Ryder are bonding over.”
“So what it is?” I couldn’t wrap my head around the potential friendship. “There’s nothing Ryder can offer him. He has no standing with Stone Group, and he’s been completely ousted from the casino. I heard Zach and Rex talking last week. They’re trying to get the casino licensing board to give him a lifetime ban.”
Ronan’s eyebrows winged up. “If that happens, he’s done in this city.”
“So why would your father voluntarily spend time with him?”
“I can’t answer that.” A muscle worked in Ronan’s cheek. “I don’t like it, though. It feels off.”
“Could your father have ulterior motives?”
“Always. As you said, though, there’s literally nothing that Ryder can offer him.”
“Maybe he feels bad for him and is offering a shoulder to cry on.” Even suggesting it felt odd.
Ronan snorted. “My father is not the altruistic sort.”
I watched Norbert and Ryder chat away for a few more minutes, then sighed. “Well, whatever it is, it can’t be good.”
“No,” Ryder agreed. “It’s not good. Not even a little.”
24
TWENTY-FOUR
Iwas in a relationship. We just weren’t calling it a relationship. Two months into our “friends with benefit” arrangement, and I’d never been happier. It was hard for me to explain how Tallulah made me feel. Was lighter a thing? Because I felt lighter. The weight that I’d been carrying around for … well, forever, frankly, was gone. The highlight of my day was seeing her, and since we were spending our early afternoons working in the studio, our evenings working together in the lounge, and our late nights working together on “other projects,” I was seeing her constantly.
I had zero complaints. That was strange for me too. I could always find something to complain about. I was good at it, according to my mother. She didn’t mean it as a compliment. She said I’d inherited it from my father. Funnily enough, he wouldn’t take credit for it.
As for my father, I’d seen him twice in the past month but only because my mother had insisted I come to the house and have tea with her. Not stuffy British tea but her boho teas that were supposed to make it so my aura could breathe—or whatever it was that she thought they did. I couldn’t keep track.
Because my father was who he was, he was cold when it came to our interactions. That wouldn’t change as long as I was working at Stone. I understood that. What he didn’t seem to understand was that he couldn’t bully me into quitting.
Things were going well for me. It wasn’t just because of Tallulah, although she was a big part of it. The high rollers lounge had a much better pace than the floor. The longer space between games gave me time to plan what I wanted to accomplish in the studio the next day. That thinking time was the greatest gift in the world. So I wouldn’t be leaving Stone anytime soon. The money I was making had my mind spinning. The studio was great. I loved it. That was just for Tallulah and me, though. I did want to open a bigger studio for other artists. I wouldn’t charge them so much that they went broke, but if I made enough money, in a few years I would be able to open my gallery. Then all bets were off.
I hadn’t told Tallulah about my gallery dreams. Not yet, at least. We talked about everything—and I do mean everything—and our conversations varied from serious to silly. She told me about her theory regarding aliens and Roswell. I told her how I watchedDatelineepisodes when I was feeling anxious because they reminded me things could always be worse. The gallery had yet to come up. I knew I needed to talk to her about it because I was getting to the point where I wanted her to be part of it. We weren’t there yet. Soon, but not yet.
The thing was, we didn’t talk about what we should be talking about. She had to realize that our relationship had morphed and changed. Looking back, I had trouble understanding how we’d ever thought that our initial plan was going to fly. Back then, we’d both obviously wanted more. We had simply been too afraid to hope for more.
Tallulah didn’t act as if she realized our relationship had changed. That was my true problem. She kept calling me her“friend” with a sly smile, as if we were in on a big secret together. I laughed and winked in response each time, but I was starting to hate the word.Friend.It was a stupid word.
That wasn’t our only problem. If we did acknowledge a real relationship, we would put ourselves in a precarious position at work. Kyla, although staid of late, was looking for any reason she could find to fire Tallulah. It was obvious whenever they were in a room together. Tallulah felt it and acknowledged it, but she couldn’t do anything about it, so she refused to dwell on it. That was healthy. It was also naive. Kyla was nowhere near done with Tallulah.
That was why I’d jumped at the chance when Rex had stopped by the lounge earlier in the day to invite me for a drink with him and Zach. I was working an odd afternoon shift, but Tallulah was still on a night shift, so I wouldn’t see her until much later. Admitting what was going on to the big boss might be dangerous, but it felt like my only option. Zach was a good enough guy I knew he wouldn’t hold it against me, and I did want his advice on the subject.
I took the time to pass by the high rollers lounge on my way to meet Rex and Zach, simply to catch a glimpse of Tallulah. She was in the television pit talking to several old timers—they were clearly betting on horses—and when she threw back her head and laughed, my heart panged with longing.
Our relationship might have started out as a game, but I wanted it to be real. I yearned for the chance to actually date her out in the open. I believed—with my whole heart, really—that we could be happy forever, if given the chance.
When had I made that shift? I’d been convinced I hated her months ago. Had that ever been true? It didn’t feel true. The emotions roiling through me now suggested I’d been fooling myself back then because there was no way I was foolingmyself now. The comfort we found in each other couldn’t be manufactured. It was real and all-consuming.
And that’s why you’re about to open a vein with Rex and Zach, my inner voice said.You’re going to figure out a way to get everything—absolutely every single thing—you ever wanted.
I exhaled heavily, not realizing that I was feeling wistful until the breath escaped, and then turned away from the lounge. To my surprise, I found Kyla beside a hostess stand, watching me.
“Hey,” I said awkwardly, my heart skipping a beat in a nonromantic way. “I thought I forgot my wallet in the lounge, but I just realized it’s in my pocket.” I retrieved my wallet and lamely held it up. She wasn’t going to buy this.
