Page 90 of Wild Card
“You guys, eat—I’ll go get that.”
I head toward the door with a growing sense of dread pooling in my gut. Now and then, a fire starts, and everything justfeelsdifferent. It’s like this sense inside me, one that knows when things are about to go bad.
And I feel that now.
Dread creeps up my throat as I flick the dead bolt and pull the door open.
Then I come face-to-face with Tripp.
He’s dressed to the nines, hair neatly gelled. In one hand, he’s carrying a massive bouquet of red roses and, in the other, a small gift.
I should say something, but I stare at him, dumbfounded. How the hell does he keep showing up just when it feels like Gwen and I are making some progress?
Deep down, I know our situation is not sustainable. Holding out. Hiding it. Keeping everyone happy. But this is the first time I’ve faced that fact head-on staring at the son I barely know.
“Hey. Sorry to drop in unannounced again.” His lips twitch into a sheepish smile.
I clear my throat, searching for words that aren’twhat the fuck do you think you’re doing here?
“No, it’s fine. You just caught me by surprise. You still got my number?”
“I know, I know. But I’m actually not here to see you.”
My jaw pops as he carries on. “Remember how you told me I’d be willing to grovel when I knew it was right? Well, I’ve been thinking about it a bunch, and I think that it might be right with Gwen.”
My stomach bottoms out. “Is that so?”
“Yeah, she…” He looks over my property with a disbelieving laugh. “She wouldn’t even give me the time of day last time. And I want to give her a chance to see how good we could be.”
I try not to grimace. This fool doesn’t want Gwen. He just can’t handle her rejection. But I don’t tell him that, and he takes my silence as an opportunity to welcome himself into my house.
“Is she awake? I wanted to make sure I spoiled her first thing.”
“Yeah.” If cuffing him upside the head didn’t make me an asshole, I would do it.
That’s my plan. Back off.
But I don’t stop him. How can I?
Sorry, Tripp. I’m obsessed with your ex, and I have been since I first laid eyes on her. And now you need to leave because you’re ruining my shot with her.
I can’t think of a single way to phrase this that doesn’t sound fucking awful. So I watch in dismay as he toes off his shoes and heads straight for the kitchen, where Gwen and Clyde’s voices drift out.
His hulking form disappears around the corner, and I inhale a few of the deep breaths Gwen taught us in yoga. I could use a quick Zen moment if I’m about to walk in there and deal with this shit.
When I finally brave the kitchen, my eyes go straight to the small gift bag and the impressive vase of roses sitting smugly on the countertop next to the lavender I chose. My flowers look scraggly in comparison, and an unwelcome pang of inadequacy twists in my chest.
I shake it off, opting to focus on Gwen.
Gwen, who looks downright uncomfortable. And Clyde, who looks one second away from beating Tripp to death with the cast-iron skillet still sitting on the stove.
“I just can’t stop thinking about you,” Tripp says, facing Gwen with his back to me. “I just think we could give this a go, and you’d see everything you’ve been missing out on.”
I cringe. I want to like the kid, but goddamn, he is just so young and clueless.And so entitled. Talking to her like she’s stupid for passing him up.
Gwen’s gaze flashes over his shoulder to meet mine. I hold it, letting her see that even though he’s here, I’m not leaving this time.
I can’t. Walking away almost killed me before. Now, I feel more desperate than ever for her to see me.
