The Temporary Roomie: Extended Edition (It Happened in Nashville #2)

Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

Jessie

I’m a mess, and I just want to go home. Drew wasn’t supposed to kiss me. He wasn’t supposed to . . .

No, I can’t even let myself go there. It was too good, and even though I won this round tonight, I still feel like I lost somehow. Is this how people feel when they go on a game show and pass on the hundred thousand dollars to see what’s in the box instead? Don’t open the box, people! There’s nothing in that stupid box but unwanted feelings.

After my supreme prank and Drew’s very un-supreme kiss (just let me have this one), we had to endure an entire dinner as well as a silent auction together, both stewing in our own versions of anger but keeping smiles plastered across our faces. Between Susan and the Greens, I felt as if we were on a celebrity talk show. No one has ever been more interested in a relationship than those three. Drew and I were pulling fake dating stories out of thin air, smiling and chuckling when it was warranted, but all evening I could feel the silent pressure of his hand against my shoulder, reminding me that he hadn’t forgotten, that we have the mother of all fights on the horizon.

My retaliation completely worked, so why does the thought of Drew angry make me want to run out and buy an entire frozen section of ice cream just to make him smile at me again?

Finally, someone comes over a speaker and announces that the dance floor is open. Oh great, now we have to do the electric slide with these bad attitudes? I can’t spend any more time next to Drew and his handsome face, and dark blue eyes, and telepathic anger. Oh, but wait! I drove here! I can save myself!

Discreetly, I gather my purse and rise out of my chair, hoping to slip past Drew while he’s talking to Richard without him noticing. But of course he does notice, because he notices every movement I make, and as soon as I stand, his hand catches mine. The smirk he tosses up at me turns my stomach inside out.

“Not leaving without me, are you, buttercup?”

Now we’re two parents in the middle of an ugly fight but not wanting to upset the kids. “I didn’t want to interrupt you two, honey bear,” I say, turning my smile to Richard and then back to Drew. “You stay and enjoy yourself! I’ll just see you at home, okay?” I flash him my pearly whites. Cheese! Everything is fine, random onlookers!

The corners of Drew’s eyes crinkle. “I’m not going to let my pregnant fiancée walk to her car all alone after dark. Come on, gumdrop, I’ll walk with you.” Drew is acting so over the top. His sugary-sweet demeanor is prickling all over my skin like I rolled in a pile of sandburs.

Drew stands up, and I wish I didn’t find him even more attractive, but after that incredible kiss, I do. He looks stronger somehow. More capable. And knowing how his lips feel . . . No! Don’t think about the kiss.

“Oh, wait, you two!” says Henry, drawing our attention back with a little wave of his hand. “Before you go, we wanted to run something by you guys.” He and Richard share a private look that seriously worries me. “We were wondering if you would like to join us next weekend at our house up on Barren River Lake—like a little engagement celebration weekend! It’s such a beautiful place right on the edge of Kentucky and only just over an hour away. Enjoy a little restful weekend before your sweet baby arrives.”

Ugh. They are so nice. Under any other circumstance, I’d be all over a relaxing weekend away with a sexy man like Drew and sweet new friends. But as everything stands, a weekend away with him would only lengthen this nightmare. No, thank you. It’s time to move on from Drew.

“That is such a sweet offer, and normally we would love to, but—”

“But nothing. We’d love to go,” Drew interjects with a smile that borders on insanity, and his hand drops to my low low back in a wayyyyy-too-familiar touch. I think this is the moment in his villain story when he first turns bad. Chills chase that thought all over my skin.

I take a step closer to Drew and pat his chest, talking through my smiling teeth like a ventriloquist. “Honey, I think you’ve forgotten—you’re on call this weekend.”

He chuckles, and I feel it in my palm. “Actually, it’s the weekend after that I’m on call. I’m free as a bird this weekend.” He bops the tip of my nose.

I’m going to wring his gorgeous neck. I don’t want to go to their stupid lake house and pretend to be congenial all weekend. What I need to do is get away from Drew forever. Nothing is going as I planned.

“Well then . . .” I swallow. “Looks like we’re coming to your lake house!”

Maybe I can eat something spicy and send myself into early labor before next weekend . . .

Faster, Jessie, faster!

I whip my car into the driveway and cut the engine. I took the opportunity to sneak out of the fundraiser while Drew was caught talking with a blabbermouth at the door, but as I was pulling out of the parking lot, I saw him exiting the venue. We locked eyes through the window of my car, and he picked up his pace into nearly a full jog toward his Jeep.

Because I love taking the high road, I stuck my tongue out, then peeled out of the parking lot. Now I’m home, Drew is only a minute behind me at most, and I’m going to accidentally break my water as I leap out of the car and race my way up the stairs. I’m out of breath and exhausted when I make it into my bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind me.

I sag against it and drag in as much air as I can, feeling grateful no one is here to witness me fighting for my life after that mild exercise.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

“AH!” I screech and then cover my mouth. How did he get up here so fast? I don’t even hear any panting on the other side of the door. Showoff.

“I know you’re hiding in there. Get out here.”

My, my, someone’s throwing a temper tantrum.

Feeling empowered by the locked door, I lean against it and angle my lips toward the crack. “You know, someone once told me that manners are important, and I think you’re missing a special word there, mister. I’ll give you a hint. It starts with a p and ends with—”

“Jessie,” Drew barks from the other side. The fact that he used my shortened name makes me want to run for the hills. This is serious. “Come out here and face me, woman.”

I’m a tiny little mouse safe inside my mousehole, and he’s the big mean cat trying to swipe his paw inside. “No thanks. I’m good in here.” My stomach growls. I should have brought some cheese with me into this mousehole.

“You can’t stay in there forever.”

“Not forever. I just have to wait long enough for one of your patients to go into labor, and then I’ll sneak out. I’m not without a plan.”

“I’ll quit my job.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“My full-time career is now sitting here and waiting you out. Don’t think I won’t.” He growls, and it stirs the pit of my stomach. “I can’t believe you did that to me tonight.”

“Can’t you? We’ve been pranking each other continuously since I moved in. You should have seen it coming. I don’t understand why you’re so mad.” I do understand, though. It was a cheap shot tonight. It felt wrong from the beginning, and it feels wrong now.

He scoffs mildly. “You don’t see why I’m mad?” His voice is doing that thing where it sounds light and airy, which is honestly scarier than if he were yelling. Not scary because I feel that I’m in any danger around Drew—I know he’s not like that—but scary because it feels like we are on the precipice of something. His emotions are loose and wild, and everyone knows in the heat of the moment is when the real truth spills out. It’s when words are said that no one can take back.

“Well, let’s see. Tonight, my fake girlfriend tricked me into getting down on my knee and proposing to her at a medical fundraiser with the world’s dinkiest, most insulting ring in front of five hundred important doctors, scientists, and a few celebrities, all of whom came up to offer their sincere congratulations for a union that’s not really going to happen and then poorly contained their horrified shock at the fake diamond ring on your finger that’s literally the size of a punctuation mark.” Okay, yeah, that sounds pretty bad when he lines it all up like that. “But I’ll tell you what makes me the most upset.”

“Do you have to?”

I can practically feel his white-hot anger searing through the door, and I want to hide under my covers. “I’m most upset that this wasn’t like all the other pranks.” His words are sharp needles resting on my heart. “Was it, Jessie?”

I swallow and flick a piece of chipped paint off the door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” It sounds like his forehead is resting against the door too. “This one was malicious. It was meant to humiliate me, and”—he sighs, and I imagine him running his hand through his hair—“you’ve been planning this since the day you moved in, haven’t you? Everything was just building up to this prank. You still think I stood you up on purpose and haven’t forgiven me.”

I stay quiet, afraid to say anything. But apparently my silence is telling enough.

“Thought so. Damn, I’m an idiot.” He laughs, but it’s humorless. “Here I thought this last week we were . . .”

“Were what?” I lean against the wall and stare at the crack between the door and the doorframe, almost wishing I hadn’t asked that question.

“Flirting,” he says, so matter-of-factly. “Weren’t we? All those other little wars just felt like messing around, having fun . . . like they were leading to something else between us. Was I wrong?”

Again my silence speaks volumes, but I know it’s telling the wrong story.

He’s not wrong, and I’m quiet because tears are leaking down my cheeks, and I don’t want him to know it. I don’t want him to know I’m crazy about him and every day I spend with him I like him more. He has a horrible singing voice but still belts out a song every morning while he cooks breakfast, and he always makes double for me, pretending he accidentally added too many eggs. I still have terrible insomnia, so every night I go out and fall asleep on the couch watching reruns of Seinfeld or a BBC show. The past few times, I’ve woken up in the morning with my pillow from my bed under my head and an extra blanket draped over me. One time I woke up with socks on my feet. I’ve never thanked Drew for it, because I’m scared to admit how much it means to me.

And now, I absolutely will not tell him I have feelings for him, because I never want a man to have power over my heart again. It feels easier just to let him think I hate him, let him believe I like being on my own.

It sounds like Drew’s forehead gently lands on the other side of the door, and I imagine us face-to-face, separated by only two inches. “I’m not afraid to admit it to you, Jessie. I have been flirting with you. I like you. Yeah, you made me furious at first and still do sometimes, but it’s good. I really . . . I thought you felt the same way.” He sounds tired all of a sudden.

I clear my throat lightly so he won’t hear the wobble from my tears and then force myself to kick him away Old Yeller style. “I’m sorry, Drew. You’re not my type. I’m just . . . not attracted to you in that way.” I’m tempted to duck and cover due to the lightning that will definitely strike me down any second. As extra penance, a magical inscription will appear on my gravestone that reads, Jessie Barnes was never as attracted to anyone else as she was to Drew Marshall.

I hear another humorless laugh followed by a small thump on the wall like he hit it lightly with his fist. I flinch. “Fine. Okay, Jessie. Glad to know I’m not your type. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

I put my hand flat against the door. “Drew, wait!”

His footsteps stop. “What?”

“The lake house weekend with the Greens . . .” I wince at the fact that I’m bringing this up at a time like this, but I have to.

His voice sounds dark and clipped when he says, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll find a way out of it.”

I pinch my eyes shut, knowing I have no right to ask this but wanting to anyway. I’m too scared to have Drew in the way I want him, but I’m also not ready to give him up completely either. “Actually, it’s near my grandaddy’s house. I was thinking maybe we could . . . make another deal. I’ll go with you to the lake house for a night if you drive up with me to visit my grandaddy after? It doesn’t have to be more than a night. I just want to check on him. He knows the truth now too, so you don’t have to pretend to be my fiancé.” Drew doesn’t answer, so I keep talking. “And I miss him but don’t feel comfortable driving that far alone at this stage in my pregnancy.” Some of that is true. Not the last part, but I know Drew won’t argue.

“Geez, Jessie. We’re friends—or at least I’m yours. Not everything has to be exactly even between us at all times. Just ask me to go with you and I will.”

No. Then I would feel beholden to him, and I don’t want that. I want to remain as emotionally untethered from Drew as possible. “Please, Drew. This is the only way I feel comfortable. Just say we have a deal.”

He’s quiet. So quiet I think he walked away. He should walk away. There’s no reason for him to continue to be kind to me, and maybe on another level I’m trying to force his hand, force him to show me he’s just as terrible as my dad and Jonathan and he will put his own needs over mine forever and always.

Of course Drew doesn’t work that way though.

“Fine. We have a deal. But I’m done after this one. No more deals.”

Drew walks away, and I sit on the edge of my bed for a full twenty minutes just staring at the wall. I put my hand on my belly and feel the baby kick. I think he or she is telling me I made a mistake, but I can’t be certain. The little traitor. But honestly, I don’t blame him or her. I would take Drew’s side too.

I finally get myself up, change into my PJs, and leave my room, on tiptoe all the way down the stairs. I like to eat when I’m upset, and right now I plan to scoop up the entire contents of the pantry and carry it upstairs like I’m a chipmunk preparing for winter.

At the bottom of the steps, I pause. Drew is in his room with the door shut, but I can still hear his voice. Maybe it’s just in my head because I know the conversation we just had, but he sounds like a sad man trying to convince someone he’s happy.

“Hey, Mia. This is Drew Marshall. You wrote your number on my coffee cup the other day at the coffee shop.” Wrote her name on his cup?! Who does that! “Yeah, sorry it took me so long to give you a call. I had kind of a busy week.”

I’m not spying. I’m not. My ear is only pressed to his door because I thought I heard an evil spirit in the wall and I might need to call someone about purging it.

Drew chuckles at something she said. “Cool. Yeah, so I was wondering if you’re free sometime this week for dinner? I’d love to take you out.” Oh, would you, Drew? Would you just love to?

I bet this is all a ruse. A sham. He knows I’m eavesdropping and is making this all up just to make me regret turning him down. Well tough, buddy. I’ve never felt better. Lying to Drew about not flirting with him was the best decision I ever made. I’m happy to not have to worry about fighting him off anymore. He can go out with Coffee Shop Woman and have a fabulous time for all I care!

Good riddance!

Drew’s voice is a mumble after that, too quiet and far away to hear what he’s saying, and I wonder if I can go get a glass to help me listen through the door before he hangs up. Nope, too late.

The door opens and Drew stands there without a smile, expressionless. “Eavesdropping?”

“Yes. Planning a date twenty minutes after getting rejected by me?”

“Yes.” Not even a hint of shame from this one. “Is there a set amount of time I’m supposed to wait after being rejected?”

“Not at all.”

“Great.” He steps slightly closer. “Because I’m going out with a woman later this week.” I try not to flinch at his words. He must notice something, though, because his demeanor softens a little. “Jessie . . . I’ll ask you one more time if there’s something between us. If you say yes, I will gladly cancel with her. But if you say no—”

“No,” I say quickly, ripping the Band-Aid off. It’s going to leave an ugly red mark on my skin, but it’s what I had to do.

Drew gives a final nod. That’s that. We’re done here. Show’s over, folks.