Chapter Twenty-Nine

Nina

I sit in my car at Insomniacs, the last place I want to be for the last reason I want to be here. I'm a few minutes late, but not in any hurry.

I look at my phone, which I'd finally charged a few days ago after Maren and Claire left the house. When it powered up, I had a voicemail from my mom, a few spam texts, and a curt message from Jordy.

Jordy: Meet me at Insomniacs on Wednesday at 1 p.m. I need to talk with you.

She knows. That's the only thing I can think of. While I want so badly to ignore it, just like I've ignored everyone else, I just can't. If she's coming for the truth, I need to put my big girl pants on and fess up.

I mean, it's not like I can ruin a relationship that's already burned to a crisp.

I take a few more moments, waiting just long enough to be late, but not so late she thinks I'm not coming. Then I trudge my way to the café.

The place hasn't changed much from when Maren and I worked here. The layout is still the same, with blonde tables and matching chairs spaced generously from each other, and high ceilings with exposed pipes. The minimalist industrial look gives it a trendy vibe. Folk indie music plays low throughout the shop, a mix of Novo Amor, Bon Iver, the Nationals, and other similar bands that are a lot like ones we used to play. I don't know anyone behind the counter, but that's cool. I do notice how the manager is ringing people up during this rush hour, something Susan never did for us. She'd rather watch while we drowned, or just pretend it wasn't happening.

I scan the shop until I finally find Jordy sitting at a table with Brayden beside her. I freeze where I am, the air in the shop feeling shallow as I run through scenarios of what's about to happen, and I come to only one conclusion...

She wants to save the effort by killing us both at the same time.

I consider turning around and booking it to my car, but she looks up at the same time I start to turn and raises a hand in greeting. Brayden looks up too, and the expression on his face is grim, like he doesn't want to be there either. But Jordy looks almost relieved I'm here, which is a bit confusing.

I approach the table, and she points to a morning bun and a cup of something at the space in front of an empty chair.

"The dirty chai might be lukewarm," she apologizes. "I ordered it fifteen minutes ago."

But you were late , I read in her unspoken words. I take the seat and sip the latte. It's just warm, but still good. "Thank you. I love dirty chais," I say.

"I remember," she says, followed by a nervous laugh. "You used to get them all the time when Nanna took us out."

"At Jaya Java," I say, the memory dislodging from a hidden corner of my mind. Nanna used to take us there every Sunday after church because she loved their samosas. But I loved their chai, which was so different from the sugary chai lattes you find at corporate coffee shops. At Jaya Java, they made their chai teas with spices like ginger, cardamon, and vanilla, cut with oat milk and lightly sweetened with honey. I always asked for a shot of espresso with mine, inspired by some of the girls at school who giggled about ordering dirty chais at Starbucks. At Jaya Java, they laughed too, but it soon made its way to the menu.

Drinking this one, I realize I inspired it as well. When I'd arrived at Insomniacs, their version of a dirty chai was that sugary crap in a container mixed with steam milk. The manager before Susan used to listen to our suggestions, though, and liked my idea of an authentic chai drink on the menu. As I sip it now, I taste the same ginger and cardamon, creamy oat milk, and a touch of honey, all enhanced with a bold shot of espresso. Even cold, it's delicious.

Meanwhile, Jordy is fumbling with her napkin. Beside her, Brayden keeps averting his eyes every time I look in his direction. I'm sitting here drinking a chai latte as if this is social hour, still not quite sure why I'm here, and still kind of nervous that this has to do with Brayden.

"So…" I say, now picking at my morning bun.

"Uh, yeah. I wanted to apologize." She glances at Brayden, as if he's going to help her out here, but he's busy looking everywhere but at her.

"About the house," I say, because of course it's about the house. I'm relieved it's about the house.

"Yeah, I overstepped," she says.

"You did," I agree. But now that I've spent weeks in this house, thinking about what I did to her, I am having the hardest time being mad at her. "It's fine, I'm over it." I dismiss it with a wave of my hand, while her eyes widen.

"No, I'm serious. I mean, it does look amazing though, you have to admit."

"Jordy."

The one word from Brayden, and Jordy's smile evaporates. She glares at him, but then seems to compose herself quickly.

"No, really, it's fine," I insist. "I mean, it's not even close to my style. But it did need a complete makeover, something that didn't look so…Nanna Dot."

Jordy snorts. "You did still have that crocheted doily blanket on the back of the couch, both straight out of the seventies. It's like she thought muted paisley and neon flowers went together."

I look at the table, trying not to fume. I have no right to fume. I fucked her fiancé, and she just got rid of a dusty old blanket, among a couple other things.

"I liked the blanket," I say, "and neon is kind of my thing." I wave my hand over my outfit of the day as an example. Today it's lime-green leggings and an oversized purple sweatshirt. My hair is now a beautiful shade of fuchsia.

"I love your style," Jordy says. "I should have kept that in mind when I decided to do something nice."

"No, you should have talked with Nina first," Brayden cuts in. Jordy looks at him again, and there seems to be some kind of unspoken message being passed between the two of them. Brayden's jaw pulses, and I can see he's irritated. More than he should be. The look increases when she takes his hand in hers. She flashes a smile at me, but his face lets me know he wants to be anywhere but here.

I am just trying not to look at his mouth, remembering all the ways he dragged those lips across my body, tasting every inch of me as if I were his personal snack. The corner of his mouth upticks, and I avert my eyes quickly, looking back at Jordy.

"I should have talked with you first," she agrees, completely ignorant of the eye fucking that just happened. Fuck, that was close.

I should just call it fine and move on, get out of here as soon as I can and leave these two to enjoy their stupid happy lives together. But something makes me stay. Part of it is that I actually miss Jordy, in spite of all the things about her that piss me off. I miss what we used to have, and I miss what we could have had if I hadn't kicked her out.

And I miss the fuck out of Brayden.

I don't dare look at him as I pretend to be engrossed in my pastry and latte. But I'm so aware of him. The way he smells. The sound of each breath he takes. The way his fingers touch the table, reminding me of how he touched me. How, after weeks of feeling completely rejected, my body still wants him.

I don't know how to reconcile the two. How can I crave the close relationship I once had with my cousin while also craving everything about her fiancé? Because I can't have both.

But I do get to choose. I look at both of them, really take them in. I focus on the relationship they have, and even though my heart hurts so horribly, I make the conscious effort to accept that he belongs to her.

Not to me. Never to me. What we did was wrong, and it can never happen again.

"We could make it right," I say, shifting my focus to her. She lights up, her face erupting in a grin.

"Fuck yes! When do we start? How about now?"

"We could, but I also have an idea I need your help with." I tell her about the clothing boutique idea, how Claire has already contacted interested designers, and Mac found some leads on prime locations.

"I know the styles of clothes I want, but I'm having a hard time envisioning what the shop will look like. I don't have your design sense when it comes to my home or shop. So, if you're up for it, I'd like to hire you to design the shop, and also to help me figure out a style for the house that's a lot more like me."

"Are you serious?" She looks at Brayden, then back at me. "You want to hire me?"

There are actual tears in her eyes, which feels like such an extreme reaction. "Jordy, it's nothing. I just trust you more than some stranger working on this new venture."

Trust. What an ironic sentiment.

"No, it's not that. It's just…" She pauses, then she takes Brayden's hand back in hers. "We've been having some serious conversations about where to live after the wedding. It's actually been a place of contention, because Brayden's home is here, but my dream has always been to move to New York so I can do more high-end jobs. But what if I stay local? Your shop could be a new direction for my business. I could expand beyond designing homes by also partnering with businesses by refreshing their layout." She squeezes Brayden's hand, which I notice because my eyes keep drifting there. "We won't need to make any hard choices because my business would be here while Brayden continues running the ranch."

I look at Brayden then, risking a quick glance. His eyes are on mine, but this time there's rage there. I look away, unsure what the deal is. Is he mad I'm hiring her? Does he hate that I'm even here? Maybe all this was a huge mistake.

Or maybe it's a great way to pay him back for playing with my heart, then crawling right back in Jordy's arms.

"That's great!" I say, even though I realize this means I'll never escape the two of them. Not if they stay in Sunset Bay, and definitely not if I hire Jordy as my personal interior designer. I glance back at Brayden, and this time I flash him a winning smile, like there's not one thing wrong in the world. Not one fucking thing.

"Let's start making plans tomorrow. Swing by the house around ten." I finish my chai and stand up, taking one last glance at Brayden. "It'll be fun, just us girls." I say, making it clear who is not invited.