Chapter 11 "I think you need a hobby," Audrey says, poking at her salmon with a fork. "You need something to think about besides work." "Unless we're going back to berry picking and cave dwelling, I have to think about work," I say. "That's what happens when no one teaches you financial responsibility, and you're up to your eyeballs in debt by the time you're a full adult." Audrey rests her fork on the edge of her plate and looks at me with the sweetest blue eyes. "In your defense, you were surviving. And you were just a baby. Let's give little Astrid some grace." "I'd rather we had given little Astrid a personal economics class," I mutter. Stupey's is packed for a Wednesday night. We waited thirty minutes for a table, which has never happened on a weeknight. Kim saw us waiting and snuck us two sangrias and an Arnold Palmer. Apparently, a food vlogger gave them a glowing review on Sunday, and they've been smashed ever since. Social media ruins everything-almost as quickly as men. "You don't need a hobby, Astrid," Gianna says, lifting her lipstick-stained glass. "You just need to get fucked." "There are children around," Audrey whispers with cheeks to match her cardigan. I take my third glass of sangria and sit back, considering Gianna's advice for once. I usually assume she's saying things for shock value-and that might be true. But I can't deny that I need to work some of this tension out of my body, and what better way to do that than to have it screwed out of me? It's better than the fucking I'm taking from everyone else in my life. Hell, I'm still getting reamed by a man who cheated on me, kicked me out of his house, and made me get a round of antibiotics as a party favor. It never ends. Between my bills, legal threats, and losing my extra pay over Gray's bullshit, I'm bent over a barrel, and there's nothing I can do about it ... and I hate it. Might as well be bent over something else and get something out of it. I yawn, the sangria giving me the first taste of relaxation I've felt since I got that damn letter. Stress management is typically one of my strengths-mostly because I keep everything in my life in tidy little clusters. But I'm one wrong word from crashing all the way out. "Do you know what, Gianna?" I say. "You might be right." Audrey shakes her head. "No. Don't take Gianna's advice." "And why not?" Gianna asks, feigning offense. "Well, for one, your answer is always sex. Sex doesn't cure everything." Gianna gasps. "I beg your finest pardon? Don't go spreading misinformation like that. Isn't that against your doctor's creed or something?" "I believe you mean the Hippocratic oath, and no, philosophy PhDs don't take an oath. We're not dealing with life-and-death situations." "I agree with Audrey that sex doesn't cure everything." The sharp edges of my frustration soften, allowing me to actually inflate my lungs all the way. "But neither do multivitamins, and I take them every morning." Gianna beams. "That's my girl!" "Let's talk this through," Audrey says, ignoring Gianna's celebration. "You're angry with one man. You don't need to bring another into the mix." "Or she could take it out on that one." Gianna looks between us and shrugs. "I'm agreeing with you, Aud. It would be irresponsible to bring another poor, innocent man into this mess. The most effective thing would be to fuck the brains out of the man you're pissed at in the first place." I sigh, narrowing my eyes at her. "I wouldn't fuck Gray Adler if he were the last man on earth and it was my duty to repopulate the planet." "Let me point out that you immediately jumped to Gray and not Trace." Gianna grins. As if he were summoned from the depths of Hades, my phone buzzes with the four-thousandth text I've received from Gray today. Gray: I would really like to talk with you. Audrey lifts a brow. "Is that him again?" I nod, wishing I had turned my phone off. He hasn't said much in his million messages-just that he wants to talk in various iterations. But each time I see his name on my screen, I want to talk to him less. I let Renn down, and I'm angry with Gray for putting me in that position. I've taken pride in never failing the Brewers in any task they've given me over the years. Not one. Hell, I've gone above and beyond, even helping Tate on a few occasions, and that's equivalent to taking a grenade to the face. That man is a walking disaster. But I've never failed ... until now. A rush of emotions burns the bridge of my nose, but I battle them back-like I should've with Gray. I let my feelings call the shots, and that's so weak of me. Worse? It cost me a raise that I desperately need. I woke up in a panic this morning after a sleepless night filled with nightmares and sweats. I kept dreaming that I was in a deep pit and a group of men stood at the top, throwing credit cards and rental agreements at me. Each piece of paper and plastic cut my skin and left me bawling in a heap of tears and blood ... and no one came to help me. So once I was awake and certain that no one was hurling anything at me, I called two law offices and inquired about retaining their services. It turns out that I'm either selling feet pics or auctioning off a kidney. The buyer would have to pay the hospital bills for my organ removal, though. "Have you responded to Gray at all?" Gianna asks, crunching on a crouton. "No. I have nothing to say." "Seems like you have a lot to say," Audrey says. "Maybe you should just tell him how he made you feel⁠-" "Ew." I wrinkle my nose. "Why would I do that?" Audrey grins. "It might surprise you. I bet you'd feel a lot better." "I told you what would make you feel better," Gianna says, grinning, too. I glance from Audrey to Gianna and then back at Audrey. Have they lost their minds? "You two give the worst advice." Gray: Could you just hear me out, sweetheart? "No, he did not." I gasp, staring at the phone. "What?" Gianna asks. I barely hear her question, my mind choosing to focus on the perceived threat and not my harmless best friend. I can't believe my eyes, and I must reread it five times before it sinks in. The fucker called me sweetheart. My fingers hit the keyboard and flurry away. Me: Eat shit and die. His response is immediate. Gray: FINALLY. "That bastard," I say, my jaw skimming the table. I've been played. "I took the bait." "Well, he is one attractive lure," Gianna mumbles to Audrey. I stare at the screen in disbelief. Heat paints my face as I battle back waves of humiliation. I don't know what to do now. My friends chatter beside me, giving their opinions on how I should react, but I don't make out their words. The voice screaming inside my head is much louder than theirs. Gray: I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable, and if my texts make you feel that way, please tell me and I'll stop. Me: THEY DO. But I stop short of hitting Send. The glasses of sangria I've consumed feel like ten in my stomach. They slosh around, splashing against the bottom of my esophagus and burning it. Making it uncomfortable. Out of the twenty-two words he sent, that's the one that stands out. "I can't work with him, Renn. His personality is all over the place, and it makes me uncomfortable." "That's all I need to hear." My conversation with Renn didn't last long-it was far shorter than I anticipated. He called to ask how it was going with Gray, and I didn't even really get to fully explain the situation. As soon as I told him I was uncomfortable and didn't want to work with him anymore, the call ended. It can't be a coincidence that Gray used that term. I erase my response and type out a new one. Me: They annoy me. Then I hit Send. "Since you're all feisty tonight," Gianna says, "this might be a good time to bring this up, Astrid." I look at her over the top of my phone, lifting a brow. "We were brainstorming at work on Monday, and looking through old magazines for inspiration," she says. "We came across this column where they took a question and then had a few different people answer it. I thought you might find it fun-and it pays. Not a ton, but a couple of hundred dollars." "A couple of hundred dollars for my response to a ridiculous question posed by a random person on the internet?" I ask. "That's it? No catch?" "That's it. No catch." "I'm in," I say, as my phone vibrates in my hand. Guess I'll use that to start a legal fund. "Great! Give me a few days to get everything together, and then I'll give you more info." Gray: We're better than this. Me: Speak for yourself. Gray: You are the only woman in the world who would argue with someone who's trying to say nice things about them. Me: Your point? Gray: This is not going how I imagined. Me: Great. Lose my number. I turn my phone to silent and place it face down on the table. Focus-and not on him. "I need to find another form of income," I say, accepting another glass of sangria from Kim. "Thank you." "Of course. Do you ladies need anything else?" she asks. "If you want to bring me the check, that should be about it," Audrey says. Kim winds her way through the maze of chairs and dirty tables. "You need another form of income." Audrey loops us back to my statement. "What kind of a thing are you looking for?" "Something that pays heart surgeon dollars for administrative assistant tasks," I say, blowing out a breath. "I'm in the same financial boat that I was in pre-Gray as long as the Trace thing doesn't cost me the only arm that I have left. But I don't have twenty thousand dollars to pay his bills, not to mention the attorney fees I'll incur to fight it. It just never stops. My financial boat is full of holes." Audrey pats my hand. "I'll jump in your boat and help you bail water. Just let me know what kind of a pail to bring with me." Gianna groans. "Why do you always have to be so good and make me look so bad?" I giggle. "Bring a pail and join us," Audrey says. "I didn't say you couldn't come." "No, but you said it first. You're just so ... good." Audrey and I laugh at the look of disgust on Gianna's face. As if being good is somehow a terrible thing. Slowly, Gianna gives in and laughs, too. "It's a good thing I love you," she says. "I love you, too," Audrey tells her. "And I'll make you good before it's over. Wait and see." Kim stops again and hands Audrey the check. She glances at the paper and gives Kim her credit card. As Kim steps away, something across the room catches my eye. I'm not sure if it's the plain black T-shirt that feels familiar or the width of his back. But when Gray turns around, putting his baseball hat on his head, his gaze collides with mine with the force of a Mack truck. "Shit," I hiss, heat creeping up my neck. "What's wrong?" Gianna asks. "Are you okay?" "Did you eat a peanut?" Audrey reaches for my purse. "Where's your EpiPen?" I peek up through my lashes to find a pair of thick thighs moving toward our table. This is going to take more than an EpiPen, guys. His cologne reaches us before he does, caressing us into a false sense of ease. Gianna picks up on his proximity first, naturally. A slow, sexy smile kisses her lips as she sets her sights on Gray. What are the odds that he's here? Why does the universe hate me? Audrey flashes me a look, and I nod. Her face washes in horror. I take a deep breath and then lift my chin. His eyes are still glued to me-a hot, sticky sort of glue that traps my attention and holds it tight. He comes to a stop beside Audrey, slipping his hands in his pockets. My heartbeat quickens. "Stalking is illegal in Tennessee," I deadpan. "Maybe I was here first," he says. Gianna sits back. "Oh." "Yeah," I say without breaking eye contact with my nemesis. "Gianna and Audrey, this is Gray Adler. He was just leaving." "It's nice to meet you, ladies." I roll my eyes. My friends don't say a word. "Astrid, can we talk for a minute?" Gray asks. "I'm pretty sure she's told you numerous times that she doesn't want to talk to you." Gianna stares him down. Gray's lips twitch. "You need to go," Gianna says. "I have a taser, and I will use it." "Before you taser me ..." He gives her a look like she's ridiculous. "Let me say one thing." "Make it fast," Audrey says. "Gianna is quick with that thing." He fights a chuckle, and it makes me want to kick him in the shins. "Astrid, I'm sorry." Huh? My eyes widen, and my heart skips a beat. As if the words alone weren't enough to confuse the hell out of me, his tone-soft, clear, and even-confuses me even more. And in front of an audience? He almost sounds like he means it. "You can go now," Gianna says. "Yes. But the apology was very-ouch!" Audrey says, earning an elbow to the ribs from Gianna. Gray doesn't move a muscle. He watches me without the fire I usually see in his eyes. His brows are tugged together, and there are lines around his mouth. No arrogance, no snipe sitting on his tongue. I don't know what to do with that. "We can talk in front of your friends if that makes you more comfortable," Gray offers. Gianna and Audrey turn to me like they're watching a ping-pong match and wait for direction. If I tell them to get him out of here, they would without question. Audrey might even pinch him for me. It must be the sangria clouding my vision-and my brain-because Gray kind of looks sorry. That or the stress of the past twenty-four hours has worn me down altogether because I almost want to hear him out. If I did give him five seconds to make his point, it might keep him from blowing up my phone. That would allow me to forget he exists and focus on the other asshole in my life causing problems. "Why are you here?" I ask him. "At Stupey's? Because Jory told me their pad Thai was killer. I had no idea you were here, if that's what you're thinking." "Of course, that's what she's thinking," Gianna says. "You've pestered her all day." He starts to respond but stops himself. That's probably smart. I might be slightly argumentative when pushed, but Gianna will rip his throat out of his body and use it as a straw. Kim hands Audrey her card while side-eyeing Gray. "That's it, ladies. Need anything else?" "We're good," I say. "Thanks, Kim." "Good night, guys," she says, waving to the table and giving Gray a quick ogle as she flees. "Good night," Audrey calls after her. Gianna turns to me. "What do you want us to do?" I look around at the dining area. It's still pretty full, and it appears a few people are waiting for a table. I can't, with a good conscience, take up space when Kim could be making tips from a new party. "Did you tip her on the card?" I ask Audrey. "Of course." I grab my purse. "Let's go. Gray, you can follow us and talk while we walk, if you must." I get to my feet and follow my friends through the restaurant. My instincts tell me that Gray is behind me, but I don't look. The hairs on the back of my neck wouldn't be standing up if he weren't. My body tingles with anticipation even though there's no way to know what he's going to say. I'm sure he isn't thrilled that I quit, but I don't know if he's angry about it. But if I know one thing about him, it's that he can switch from hot to cold in two seconds flat. A man holds the door open for us, and we step into the cool spring evening. We form a small circle on the sidewalk around a giant ball of tension. Audrey tugs her cardigan closer to her body, nibbling the inside of her cheek nervously. Gray stands to my side, looming over me in his sneakers. He seems bigger out here than he has in our past interactions. There's scruff on his face, his lips look dry, and I want to remind him to add Celtic salt to his water for hydration, but I don't. He's not my problem anymore. "You guys can go," I say, pulling my friends into a hug. "Are you sure?" Gianna asks. "We'll wait for you. Want us to wait in the car in case we need to dig a very, very large hole tonight?" Gray sighs in exasperation. I smile at her. "I'm good. Promise." "Call me when you get home," Audrey says. "Before you play driveway chess. I want to know you made it." "I will." They turn together and make their way to the parking lot. The sidewalk feels much emptier without my friends. A couple of strolls down the other side of the road, but our side is vacant. The only sound aside from the occasional car is the soft hum of the music from inside Stupey's. I'm alone with Gray, only this time, I don't want to run. For the first time, I want to hear what he has to say. A man who's sorry and admitting it? Color me intrigued. Taking a deep breath, I turn to him. His gaze meets mine immediately. "Talk."