Keep Me If You Can (If You Can #3)

2. Completely, Totally, Unequivocally Fine

Chapter two

Completely, Totally, Unequivocally Fine

“It is about damn time!” Anne-Marie exclaimed, bursting out of her seat when I walked up to our table in The Library ten minutes later.

She threw her arms around my neck before I even put my backpack down, half-strangling me and half-mashing her boobs in my face because she insisted on wearing four-inch heels despite being nearly five-eight. “Weeks I have not seen my best friend, and you decide it is okay to make me wait even longer ?! Rude, chérie .”

“I had to talk to my TA about getting an extension,” I said. “Which they said no to, by the way, thanks for the sympathy.”

“You are still late,” Anne-Marie scolded. “ C’est tres impoli. ”

“Like, ten minutes late,” I said.

“It’s twenty-six minutes, actually,” Remy said, not looking up from the book in front of him.

“You talked to Glitch for twenty-six minutes?” Sydney asked skeptically. “And they still said no to an extension?”

The answer to that was no, I hadn’t been talking to Glitch for twenty-six minutes. I’d talked to them for close to fifteen minutes, then rushed to meet Anne-Marie, who’d decided a few days earlier to take an impromptu weekend trip to Ottawa with Remy to celebrate their anniversary. But I’d barely made it out of the building when my phone went off.

And of course, instead of being someone I wanted to talk to, it was my dad.

“I can’t come to Montreal,” I’d said after reluctantly accepting the call.

“Good afternoon to you too, ma fille ange ,” my dad had said, a subtle sarcasm floating through his otherwise performatively pleasant tone. “I hope you are doing well. How has school been going?”

I’d closed my eyes and took a steadying breath. “It’s been busy. I have a lot of papers already, plus my internship applications, and my final thesis project.”

“Are you not taking fewer classes this semester than usual?”

“Yes. I’m taking the recommended number of classes for a full-time course load instead of overloading my schedule like I did before.” I’d dug my finger into the side of my thumb, using the sensation to ground myself enough to keep my voice even. “But the courses I have this year are a lot more involved.”

“Hmm,” he’d said. “And you are keeping up so far?”

“It’d be pretty bad if I was behind when it’s only the second week of the semester,” I’d said like I hadn’t just left my TA’s office where I’d been pleading for an extension for what wasn’t even the first time.

“Good,” he’d said. “It would not be too much for you to make a trip out here, then? Perhaps next weekend?”

And I’d said no, and he’d suggested the weekend after that, so I’d had to talk in circles with him for a few minutes before saying I’d see what I could do and hanging up. But the absolute last thing I wanted to do was tell Anne-Marie that. Partly because as much as I loved her, she was the world’s biggest gossip, but mostly because I didn’t want to bring the mood down.

“At least I suggested a cool bar for you to hang out at,” I said to Anne-Marie.

“Certainly, but I know Remy and I would have much rather spent an extra twenty-six minutes visiting with you,” Anne-Marie replied.

“It’s okay,” Remy said. “I’d rather be reading anyway.”

I pressed my lips together, but it didn’t stop my shoulders from shaking as I stifled a laugh. Anne-Marie and Remy had been together since we were about fifteen, but my parents had been divorced for four years by that point and I didn’t live in Montreal. It wasn’t until this past summer that I felt like he’d comfortable enough around me to relax, which was fair. We hadn’t known each other all that well. Now that we did, I knew he didn’t mean it personally; he’d rather read than socialize in general, not just with me.

But knowing that didn’t stop it from being funny.

Anne-Marie sighed, though I could hear the affection in it, and stopped strangling me for a second to reach out and press a touch to Remy’s shoulder.

“ ?Mon beau loup ,” she said. “ S’il vous pla?t ?”

He looked up, blinking, then stuck a napkin into the book and closed it.

“Hi, Nellie,” he said.

“Hi, Remy,” I replied, the words muffled by Anne-Marie’s chest. “Whatcha reading?”

“A book about the history of the Canadian mint,” he said. “We went on a tour earlier today so when I saw it on the shelf here, I thought it would be interesting to compare the information we got during the tour to what was written. So far, it seems like the tour was more thorough.”

Anne-Marie let go of me. “Did it answer the question you had about the specimen coins?”

Remy shook his head. “I’ll check online when we get back to the hotel later.”

“I have to say, I was worried when you said you wanted to meet at a library,” Anne-Marie said as I took the empty seat next to Remy while she sat across from him and beside Sydney. “I thought perhaps you’d left Montreal and stopped being fun. But this, chérie ?” She gestured around her. “I love it. It makes you seem so… academic.”

The Library was one of OttawaTech’s best kept secrets. Seriously. I’d lived less than six blocks from the place for nearly four years and had only found out about it when Reid wanted to introduce us to his new girlfriend, Hope, but didn’t want to take her to our usual near-campus haunt, Lou’s Pub.

In what would be a shock to no one who had even an ounce of common sense, it was called The Library because of the books, which filled the entirety of the second floor of the two-storey bar. Shorter shelves sat under the windows, potted plants and other knick-knacks sitting on the tops, and the rest of the shelves went to the ceiling. Every single one was stuffed with used books that people could take or exchange with some of their own. It was like a life-size version of the Free Little Libraries that existed in some neighbourhoods.

Which I guess would be a regular library, sort of.

Whatever. The Library had a great ambiance. It was the kind of place that made me sad I didn’t read more. I’d always wanted to be a reader, but my mind always wandered while I was reading. But for the kind of person who lived and breathed books, The Library was the perfect place.

They also made an amazing sangria.

“So what’s new, Annie?” I asked, pouring myself some sangria from the pitcher Sydney had bought.

“Oh, not all that much,” she said, which was clearly a bold-faced lie since there was always something new that Anne-Marie wanted to gossip about.

“How’s your family doing?” Sydney asked.

I tried not to let my jaw twitch in annoyance. The conversation would’ve veered that way eventually, but I’d hoped it would be a while so I could pretend I needed to go to the bathroom or something.

But to my surprise, Anne-Marie didn’t launch into hints that I should marry her brother.

“Honestly, that is half the reason we are here,” she said, sighing as she lifted her drink and took a sip through the straw. “I needed a weekend away from home.”

“Why?” I asked, frowning.

“Things have been odd.” She stirred her drink with her straw. “My father and brother are not getting along. It is not like it is the first time they’ve gotten at each other’s throats, but it does not happen very often. My dad is saying it is work-related, which means he cannot tell me because of attorney-client privilege, apparently. And Jean-Paul moved out.”

“I didn’t know JP’s condo was finally ready,” I said.

In an instant, Anne-Marie’s head snapped towards me and a smile so predatory that I half-expected fangs to pop out of her mouth spread across her face.

“Is there a reason you should have known, chérie ?” she asked.

Ah, shit. That was the trap.

“I thought you would’ve mentioned it,” I said, running my fingernail along my thumb. “You tell me everything about everyone else.”

“Well, yes.” Anne-Marie tilted her head side to side. “But I thought perhaps my brother told you.”

“ Why would you think that?”

“You and Jean-Paul had such a lovely evening together at the Diamond Gala,. I assumed you were friends now,” she said, her voice light with the airiness of delusion. “And since friends talk to each other regularly…”

“He took me to one event as a favour, Annie,” I said. “That was it. We’re not friends.”

She glanced at her nails. “So you say.”

“I haven’t talked to JP since I left Montreal and you have literally no reason to think it was ever anything more than him helping me out of a tough spot.”

“I am teasing, chérie ,” Anne-Marie said, waving a hand at me. “I know what you meant. But a girl can wish for her best friend to wake up and realize the man of her dreams has been in front of her face for nearly her entire life.”

“He’s not—”

“But yes, he moved out last weekend,” she continued over my protests. “And something about it was not quite right . He got the call his condo was ready and he was gone within two days. I know he was looking forward to moving out, but Jean-Paul is a planner. He does not impulsively do things. So for him to leave like that…” She trailed off, fidgeting with her straw. “It felt wrong.”

“Maybe you just miss him,” Sydney suggested.

“It is not like he hasn’t moved out before,” Anne-Marie replied. “He lived in residence during university and such. But maybe.” She shrugged. “My mother noticed it too, though.”

“I mean, your dad and JP work together, don’t they?” I said, knowing full well that they did and belatedly remembering that she’d also just said that. “Maybe they spend too much time around each other.”

She tilted her head to the side in consideration. “That could be true. My dad hasn’t said much since he left. Neither has Jean-Paul, and I have been texting him every single day so he doesn’t miss any AMNN broadcasts.”

“What’s AMNN?” Sydney asked.

“The Anne-Marie News Network.” She picked up her margarita and took a sip. “It is my brother’s snarky term for me making sure he stays in the loop about all the latest information. Although, that reminds me!” She perked up, a smile spreading across her face. “Do you think I could be a news reporter? Like a television anchor or something?”

“I can think of no better job for you,” I said.

Anne-Marie beamed. “Really? Because after I found out Jean-Paul called it that, I thought about it for a while and I think I would be very good at it.”

“You would be good at it,” Remy said, not looking up from his book.

“Remy thinks I should do it if I want to,” Anne-Marie said. “And you know, I was talking to Michele, and her aunt’s sister-in-law’s niece is an entertainment correspondent on a morning show and she said she could get me in contact with her. I do not know if she will, though, since she would probably want a favour in return and the only thing I could think of was trying to get Jean-Paul to take her on a date again. Bu- ut ”—she drew the word into two syllables and turned her head towards Sydney so she could look at me out of the corner of her eye—“I do not think my brother would agree to that, since I imagine he is very much enjoying the freedom that having his own home comes with as he can now get laid as much as he likes with complete privacy.”

I sighed. “Anne—”

But she was talking again before I even got the second part of her name out. Across the table, I could see Sydney’s shoulders shake as she laughed, and I threw a glare at her from beneath my eyelashes before picking up my sangria and taking a long sip.

I’d expected Anne-Marie to tease me about JP. After all, she didn’t know we had hooked up. Not once, and not repeatedly. There had been a few harrowing moments where she nearly caught me fucking her brother, but none of those moments had actually tied me to JP.

She had no reason to suspect I’d been sitting on JP’s face instead of jogging like I’d said the night she insisted I do the Illumi-Nite run.

There was no reason for her to think the panties she’d found in JP’s room were mine, even though I’d been hiding naked on the floor beside his bed during that harrowing conversation.

And when he and I had disappeared during the Diamond Gala so he could use my pussy to jerk off into my panties, there was nothing that hinted that was what we were actually doing.

But then JP, asshole that he was, told her that he’d spent the night with someone after the Diamond Gala. And Anne-Marie, desperately pushy and delusional as she was, had clasped at that little joke like it was a frayed safety belt on a roller coaster.

Luckily, nothing was going to happen if that frayed safety belt snapped. The roller coaster was off, shut down, overgrown in an abandoned amusement park. Anne-Marie was never going to discover anything had happened between me and JP because it was over and we hadn’t spoken in weeks.

Which was fine.

Completely, totally fine.

Because why would we? Both of us had known our arrangement was a temporary thing, just like my arrangement with Ben had been temporary. And it didn’t bother me that I hadn’t heard from Ben since he left for California. We’d been clear with our expectations and there was no reason for us to get in touch with each other, especially when we hadn’t been texting each other or anything before he left for any reason but to arrange when we were next hanging out.

And sure, JP and I had sometimes texted each other about things that weren’t related to hooking up. Sometimes we’d share gossip or jokes. And maybe sometimes we’d send each other pictures. But not, like, nude pictures.

Well, not completely nude.

Or, well, not full-body nude.

And maybe not we . Maybe it was more I sent him pictures, but only ever of certain nude parts. And he sent me pictures too, sometimes. Not his full dick or anything, but I had a couple of decent shots of his stupidly sculpted body in low-slung shorts with certain kinds of imprints showing through the fabric. He probably would’ve sent me pictures of his dick, too, but he’d made an off-hand comment once that he wouldn’t do that without asking permission first and I’d never actually asked him for one and—

It didn’t matter.

The point was, JP and I both knew it was temporary. I had no intention of going back to Montreal, even though my dad had asked no less than six times if I’d come to a dinner party or a gala or a benefit.

So there was no reason for me to message JP. And there was no reason for him to message me, either.

Though I guess if I had to pick a reason, I might’ve thought he’d text to check on me.

Not because I needed him to. I wanted him to even less than that, but JP had spent three years leaving Post-It notes on my car when I was in Montreal because he wanted to make sure I was okay after I popped my cherry on his dick. So it wouldn’t have been unusual for someone to assume he might message to see how my ass was after he’d fucked it so hard we both nearly passed out.

He hadn’t, though. And that was fine.

Completely, totally, unequivocally fine .

And the fact that I was curious about what was going on with him was totally normal. We had spent a good amount of time together over the summer, so it made sense for me to wonder what was going on with him. And to be, like, happy for him that he finally got into his own place after waiting for ages.

And since Anne-Marie had hinted that he might be having a rough time right now, it would also be totally normal for someone to text him and say congratulations.

Because it might cheer him up to hear that someone was happy for him. And once in a while, I tried to be a nice person who did nice things for people like cheer them up while they were having a rough time.

So it was entirely normal that when Remy got up to go to the bathroom while Anne-Marie was talking about… uh…

“—why she is suddenly so interested in trampoline workouts, but my mother says she is having fun with it.” Anne-Marie took a loud slurp of her drink. “Between us, though, I think it has more to do with the instructor being young, Spanish, and known for wearing grey sweatpants to the gym.”

…the gym or something, I guess.

Whatever. It was completely normal for me to pull my phone out of my backpack.

It was totally fine and normal and not at all weird that I scrolled down in my messages until I found his name.

It was completely, totally, unequivocally fine for me to send him a friendly message expressing my happiness for him.

Me

Congrats on finally moving out of your parents’ metaphorical basement, loser

Totally normal.