Clusterpuck (Vegas Crush #9)

28. Just Slayed Me

28 /

just slayed me

Tripp

The food is really good here, but I can hardly enjoy it. I can’t tell if this is me or her or both of us who aren’t communicating. I don’t know how to fix this. I’m sure I just look like I’m pouting.

“Have you given any thought to what comes after this season is over?” Lila asks, clearly trying to make small talk.

“We’ve talked about this. I’m still not sure.”

“Well, what’s on your list? Maybe I can help you narrow it down.”

“I’m not a pros and cons or a list kind of guy, Lila. I’ll figure it out.”

“I’m just offering to talk it through. Lots of guys go to management or coaching. Have you thought about that?”

My teeth feel like they might crack, I’m gritting so hard. “Look, it’s clear this marriage is a fucking sham. As such, I’m not inclined to talk about my hopes and dreams and future plans with you.”

Lila looks like I just punched her in the gut. “You’re the one who asked me. Not the other way around.”

I can’t argue with that, so I just go silent again, focusing on my entrée. Lila picks at hers before excusing herself to go to the restroom. As soon as she leaves, I feel like an ass. Worse than an ass. What is wrong with me?

She comes back maybe ten minutes later, and I can tell that she’s been crying. She won’t look at me as she starts back on her meal.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I’ve obviously upset you.”

“This whole situation has upset me. I’ve upset myself.” She laughs bitterly.

I chew on my words for a moment, trying to figure out how to convey what I need to convey. “I know you’re way out of my league. You never would have chosen me for this. Not in a million years. Sure, you had your schoolgirl crush, and I was a pro player and blah, blah, blah, but I know that I am not the man you would have chosen—not for marriage and certainly not for family.”

“You’ve always been my family.”

It surprises me to hear this. It shouldn’t. We’ve known each other such a long time. We’ve been friends, of a sort.

“Well, I’m sorry for this spot you’re in. I’m sorry I let my cock do the thinking for me back in that hotel. You were just so very beautiful and so very convincing, and I wanted you so very much. I let myself do what I told myself I never would. I crossed a line. I’m sorry. I hate myself for it.”

“You hate that you were with me.” It’s not a question. She delivers it blandly.

“That’s not what I said.”

“It is. But it’s okay. I know I seduced you. I know I pushed myself on you. You didn’t want it, and I did it anyway. I’m the bad guy here.”

“No.” I shake my head at her. “No. You’re not. But I’ve always been the bad guy. My sister told you I had a thing for you. She always talks too much when she’s drunk, but she wasn’t wrong. On your sixteenth birthday, you came down the stairs, and it was like—damn, she is not a little girl anymore . And I felt sick for looking, for finding you attractive. And when you graduated high school, you were so…Christ, I don’t even have a word for it. Alive? You were so alive, and your smile just slayed me. And I felt like a sick bastard for feeling the way I felt because you were barely an adult, and I was so much older.”

“You barely talked to me at my graduation party. I was pretty devastated.”

“You didn’t need me in your business that day. You had this dopey boyfriend who was mooning all over you. Some blueblood douchebag.”

“Phillip.” Lila grins and shakes her head. “He wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh yes, he was. I wanted to take that kid out to the lake and drown him. Wanted to do even worse to him when I saw you two kissing out at the boathouse.”

“You would’ve been, what…”

“Thirty-one,” I say with certainty. I’ve done this math many times. “Too fucking old for you.”

“Age doesn’t matter now,” she says, taking a sip of her seltzer water.

“Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it does. The point is that I could not have acted upon how I felt. I shouldn’t have allowed myself that one night in Toronto with you. You were always someone I knew I could never have, and I was okay with that.”

“Until you realized you could.”

We meet each other’s eyes, and I swear we’re about to set the fire alarms off, the air between us is so chemically charged. But that’s just our bodies talking. It’s not reality.

“But I can’t really have you now, can I? You hate me, or at least you should. I’ve trapped you into a marriage you don’t want. You will never love me. You said it yourself, we’re not reading the same book, here.”

Lila seems to get a little teary again as she picks at the last of her dinner. She takes a bite and forces herself to chew, to swallow. I can see how much effort she’s putting into it, presumably to stop the tears from flowing again. When she speaks again, she asks, “What kind of music do you like?”

Not at all what I was expecting.

“Weird direction to go with the conversation, but I’ll bite. I like alternative rock stuff, mostly. When I was a teenager, I listened to Nine Inch Nails and stuff like that. Rage Against the Machine. There are newer bands I like, too, but I seem to always reach for the old stuff.”

“I like some alternative, too. Really, I’m pretty open to anything that’s good or musically interesting.”

“Do you like cats or dogs?” I go with the get-to-know-you theme.

“Both, actually. I like animals in general. We never had pets because my mom was allergic, so I always loved on my friend’s animals when I was growing up. I’d love to have a pet someday.”

“I think I prefer dogs but that’s because we had them when I was young. I’ve never been around a lot of cats. I’m pretty sure they steal your soul while you sleep.”

“That’s not true. Where’s your favorite place to travel?”

“Um, I liked the Netherlands? It’s really beautiful and kind of untouched there. We went for an exhibition when I was with Nashville. I’d love to go back. Japan was cool, too, though I liked it better when I got out of Tokyo.”

“I liked Japan, too, and agree that Tokyo is a bit much. I really loved Thailand. I did a lot of yoga there. It was peaceful and the people were great. The food was fabulous.”

“I’ll add it to my bucket list.”

We talk through a shared and decadent slice of chocolate cake, realizing we do have some things in common, some shared interests. We talk about funny things our families do, about how annoying our siblings were when we grew up. It feels like the date I had planned. It feels like progress.

Still, as I pay the bill, Lila says she needs the restroom again and that she’ll meet me by the elevator. As she gathers her purse, a shadow crosses her face. She notices me looking, forces a tight smile, and thanks me for dinner.

I watch her walk away and worry how in the ever-loving hell we will ever make this work.