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Sighing in defeat, I make my way home. I need to sleep off the whiskey so I can think straight. Things will be clearer in the morning.
At least, I really hope they will be.
***
The next day at work, I’m still obsessing over Chloe’s proposal. It’s making it difficult to focus on my work. I’m in the office since the renovations on the Victorian are done. I don’t usually mind office work, but I know if I were at a house somewhere, I’d at least be able to work with my hands and distract myself a little easier.
As I sit at my desk, scrolling through blueprints and client emails, my mind keeps drifting back to the night before. The way Chloe had looked so confidently into my eyes and dropped that bombshell. The embarrassment she’d shown when I, like a fool, didn’t have the courage or wherewithal to respond. The hurried departure that felt like a missed opportunity.
Suddenly, my office door swings open, and in walks Cody, one of our construction managers.
“Parker,” he greets me with a grin. “You look like you spent the night at the bar.”
“Not exactly,” I reply wistfully, rubbing a hand across my face. I don’t feel like explaining what happened. The mere thought of it only adds to this pounding headache.
Cody just shrugs his shoulders. “Can’t say I blame you. Can get pretty lonely staring at these walls all day.”
He’s right about that. After last night, I feel lonelier than ever before. His words inadvertently add salt to my fresh wound.
The rest of the day drags on in a similar fashion: meaningless conversations, tedious paperwork, and a constant battle against the nagging thoughts of Chloe.
By the time I leave work, I’m exhausted. I unlock my car and slide in behind the wheel but don’t start the engine right away. Instead, I take a deep breath and drop my head to lean against the back of my seat.
What am I going to do? I can’t keep being this distracted. Clenching my jaw, I start the car and pull out of the parking lot. I find myself gravitating back toward the bar again. I can’t help but wonder if Chloe will be there again, and maybe I can talk to her about this crazy proposal she’s made.
As I walk into the bar, the bartender looks up from where he is drying glasses and gives a small nod of acknowledgment. I take a seat at the bar, ordering a whiskey just like last night. As the bartender slides the glass toward me, he chuckles under his breath.
“Expecting her again?” His voice is even, but his eyes hold a spark of amusement at my obvious predicament. I try to tell myself that he must have seen dozens of men make fools of themselves by now, but it doesn’t dull my embarrassment.
“I honestly don’t know,” I reply. What else is there to say?
The next hour is a blur as I sit there and wait to see if Chloe will show up. I’m too lost in my own thoughts to pay much attention to the world around me. Every creak of the door sends a jolt through my body, a hopeful anticipation that quickly turns into disappointment when I see that it isn’t her.
As the clock ticks away, I can feel my hopes falling with each passing minute. Maybe she won’t come tonight. Maybe she’s still embarrassed about her proposition last night and has decided to avoid me altogether.
With a sigh, I down the last of my drink, pay my bill, and get up to leave, as anxious and confused as I was when I first arrived.
***
The next two days go by in much the same way. I struggle to focus at work because I can’t stop thinking about Chloe and what she asked of me. I go to the bar at the end of the second day to wait and see if she shows up, but again, nothing. By the afternoon of the third day, I’m sitting in my office, staring out the windows behind my desk, trying to figure out my next move.
I’m not going back to the bar. I can’t humiliate myself like that again. Mike would never let me live it down. Besides, I doubt she’ll show up. I need to talk to her, though. I’ve been thinking about her proposal non-stop, even half-convincing myself that it could be worth taking her up on it. There’s just one obstacle in the idea that I can’t quite work my way around.
Lauren.
At the end of the day, Chloe is my sister’s best friend. That fact hadn’t really struck me right away, but I don’t want to do anything to hurt Lauren. If I had agreed to become friends with benefits with Chloe and my sister found out, I’m pretty sure she’d want to cut off my balls.
I have to talk to Chloe before I worry too much about the potential risks. Whether I take her up on her offer or not, I need to hear the entirety of her thinking behind this idea before I can make a decision. Plus, I know if I don’t talk to her about all this, I’m only going to continue to obsess over it and be constantly distracted from my day-to-day responsibilities.
Determined, I leave the office that afternoon and decide to drive to Lauren’s house so I can talk to Chloe face-to-face. I’m nervous and clutch the steering wheel so hard, my knuckles turn white.
I tell myself to breathe. It’s going to be fine. Chloe and I are adults, and we can have a reasonable, civil conversation. I’ll express my concerns and ask her exactly what she wants out of this sort of arrangement. We’ll be calm, mature, and logical.
Piece of cake. No big deal. It’ll be totally fine.
By the time I pull up to the house, I’m feeling confident. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Chloe and I can enjoy each other, keep things chill, and not rock any boats. If she’ll still have me, that is.
Shoulders back and chin raised, I make my way up to the front door and hit the doorbell. I slap on what I know is a charming grin and wait.
