“Should we tell him?” Quince asks, and Cap nods.
“Definitely. I can’t wait to see his face.”
“What? Tell me what?”
“Dude,” Cap says. “Sticking to your New Year’s Eve hookup is sticking with Greer. Goofy Gus and his snooty girlfriend set up the whole thing.”
Quince glares at the unbecoming nicknames. “You were a part of it too.”
“A part of what?” I ask.
“Getting the two of you together,” Cap says casually, as if he’s doing something other than dropping a nuclear sized bomb. “Once we found out she was the one you kissed on New Year’s Eve, it was all hands on deck. The apartment. The dates. Everything.”
“What do you mean, she’s the one I kissed on New Year’s Eve?” I croak, gripping my beer bottle so hard, it feels like I’m just shy of the pressure it would take to shatter it.
“Beyoncé? Midnight? Remember telling me about that shit?” Cap taunts, and I have to fight the urge to drive my fist into his cocky face.
“Well, I told Quince and Emory, and they told me who she was.”
“Greer,” Quince adds, just in case I couldn’t figure it out.
“Yeah?” I ask, my voice heavily laden with weeks’ worth of heartbreak and aggravation. “You’re telling me the two of you knew all of this, set all of this up, and are just telling me now?”
Cap has the good sense to raise his eyebrows and brace, but Quince is too good-natured to understand how wound up I am.
“Yep. Emory made sure she moved in to the apartment next to you, and Cap set you up on a date he knew you wouldn’t keep—”
“You what?” I yell, turning my anger to Cap.
He holds up his hands defensively, and Quince whistles. “Not the right time to bring that up, I guess. I see that now.”
Definitely not. I shake my head.
“I can’t believe you guys. Going behind my back like that. Keeping this from me until now. Letting me wonder about all of it for this long.”
“To be fair, we didn’t have a hand in the heartbreak part of it,” Cap pipes in. “That was all you guys.”
Jesus Christ, give me patience right now.
“Oh good. That makes it all better.”
“Look,” Quincy says. “The point is, we were all rooting for you. There’s a reason we all thought you’d be good together and pushed to make it happen. And clearly, we were right.”
“You were right?” I shout. “You were right?” My laugh is derisive. “Then why the hell do I feel this way?”
“Because that’s love, motherfucker,” Cap, the fucking sage, informs me. “It slaps you in the dick almost as often as it tickles your balls. You gotta balance the two and figure out how to enjoy the pain. Get turned on by it. Harness it. Use it.”
“You’re ridiculous. What the fuck are you even talking about?”
Quince takes a sip of his beer and chuckles as Cap slaps him on the shoulder and shakes. “Look at this guy,” Cap says. “You think that feisty fucking redhead of his doesn’t cause him heartache and blue balls seventy percent of the time? She does. I guarantee it. But he’s found a way to go with the craziness and embrace it.”
“Well, that’s all fucking well and good, but Greer doesn’t want to date me. It’s not like kidnapping her, holding her hostage, and forcing her is an option. What do you suggest I do?”
“I’m a little scared at how quickly your mind went to kidnapping, Turn, but for your sake and the sake of my status with the bar association, I’m going to ignore it.”
“I think what Cap’s trying to say,” Quince says, ever the peace-keeper, “is that you should wait it out. You’re not supposed to work together forever, right? When’s the hotel done?”
I scowl. “September.”
“Then I suggest you get really good at touching yourself between now and then, study up on some videos to learn how to touch her—”
I flip Cap off.
“—and then show her what she’s been missing when there’s nothing else in the way.”
“And I suppose you guys have a plan to help me do that?”
“Dude,” Cap says with a laugh before nodding at Quincy. Quincy nods at me.
“Of course, we do.”
Trent
It’s been five months since Greer ended things between us.
One hundred and twenty-five days, twelve hours, twenty-seven minutes, and fifteen seconds since she told me she couldn’t continue our relationship. That it was too hard to be together and work together.
Okay, so maybe I don’t know the exact time down to the seconds, but fuck, time is moving at a snail’s pace. The amount of brain power it takes to focus on finishing the hotel and not think about Greer is Herculean.
In summary, it’s been fucking horrible.
She pointedly avoids me, and when we’re in close proximity to each other, it only drives the knife deeper.
I have to see her at work and in the hallway at home, and I have to hear her through the walls of my apartment. She is all around, everywhere, but she’s not mine.