20. Izzy

CHAPTER 20

IZZY

I needed to tell him, but not tonight.

Tonight, he was salty, fresh off his loss. I'd tell him tomorrow, or the day after that. Or after his next game, assuming he won it.

Anger flared up in me: I was having his baby. I was the one with nine hard months ahead, the pain of labor, then whatever came after. Finding a nanny, or daycare. A sitter. Did my new work have daycare? Could I bring a child there? I didn't know anything and I was scared, and yet it was Spencer in need of kid gloves? I was walking on eggshells, dodging his moods, but I was the one with adult, real-life problems.

I needed to tell him, and I'd do it tonight. It might be a lot for him, but so what? So what? When our kid came along, she was going to need him, not when he felt up to it, but right then and there .

I smiled at the way I kept calling her "she," though I had no idea one way or the other. A girl might be easier, or at least more familiar. A boy, I'd need Spencer to coach me along. Either way, I'd need him. No, we would.

I stood up and paced around the kitchen. Leon had ducked out to check in on work, but he'd left me some nibbles in case I got hungry. I opened the fridge and reached for a pastry, only to drop it at a sound from outside. I held my breath, listening, and I heard a key in the lock. I heard Spencer grunt something and his bag hit the floor. He kicked off his boots, one thump, then another, then he trudged down the hallway and straight to his room.

"Spencer," I called.

He made a harsh sound, an audible sigh. I nudged the fridge shut and headed out to the hall.

"We need to talk," I said. His shoulders went stiff. Any other time, I'd have told him to forget it. But not tonight, with so much at stake. Tonight he would listen, and we'd make some kind of plan. I squared up my shoulders and set my jaw strong. "Leon left us some pastries. Come on. Let's talk."

"I get it," said Spencer. "And I agree."

I blinked, confused. "What?"

He turned his back on me to stare at his gym bag, lumped where he'd left it to the side of the door. His shoulders slumped over. He rubbed at his face. "This thing between us, I get it. It's done. And, honestly, it's a good thing. It's been a distraction."

My blood boiled up hot. "A distraction? Excuse me?"

Spencer still didn't look at me. "I've been distracted. It's messed with my game. And it's messing with us, which is worse. With our friendship."

"Our friendship?" I echoed, fury coiled in my gut. Was this how he treated his friends? Blaming them for his screwups, for hurting his game?

"I'm sorry," he said. "This is my fault. I was being an idiot, calling you my good luck charm. I should never have let it go as far as it has. I roped you into this, and?—"

"No, wait, shut up." I held up my hand while I gathered my thoughts, daring him with my scowl to try interrupting. "So, what you're saying is, I'm a distraction. You're saying you lost tonight because of me . Not because you were playing like a baboon?"

Spencer went tense. His fists bunched at his sides. "That's not what I'm saying."

"Okay, then what?"

"I'm saying I was distracted. Up in my head. We started this thing without really thinking, not seeing what would happen if it didn't work out. All I'm saying is, I let it distract me. I'm not blaming you, just?—"

Just dumping my ass. "So this is why you've been ghosting me? Why you're suddenly busy?"

"I'm not suddenly busy. It's the playoffs. You know that."

I paced back and forth to let off some steam, but my rage kept building, fit to explode. "You're just like them," I said.

Spencer twitched. "Like who?"

"The douchebros at work. You're exactly how they are. I thought you were a grownup, but?—"

"Now, hold on a second!"

"No! No, I won't hold on. You're going to listen." I grabbed his arm to spin him around, but Spencer jerked loose like a petulant child. I didn't care. He was still going to hear me. "That thing you're doing right now, taking the blame, only we both know you really blame me? I knew you'd be a distraction. I should never have done this. " I mimicked his voice, his stupid, grave tone. "That's exactly what Jim does when he knows he's fucked up. Izzy pushed hard for this, but I should've gone with my gut. I was team leader. This is on me. Only, he knows it won't be. It never is. He'll get all the credit for trying to listen, and I'll get called pushy. I'll get the blame."

"I wasn't doing that."

"Then what were you doing?"

Spencer turned to face me, but he didn't meet my eyes. "I'm saying we're both adults. We should've both known better. These friends-with-benefits things never work out. One person always—" He shut his mouth fast.

"Always what?"

"I don't know, Izzy. I fucked up, okay? I know it sounds like I'm blaming you, like I'm doing Jim's thing, but I didn't mean you distracted me. I meant I'm distracted. I got all caught up in this dumb superstition, and I dragged you into it?—"

"Like I had no say?" I flung my hands in the air. "You really are a douche, aren't you?"

Spencer pressed on his temples like he had a headache. My stomach was churning, my guts tied in knots.

"Let me tell you what I see." I swallowed back bile. "I see a grown man throwing a toddler-sized tantrum. You lost your game, but you can't just have lost it. You couldn't have had an off night and not played your best. The other team couldn't have played better than you. You needed a target, so you picked on me, and you're using your crap night as a pretext to dump me. Well, fine. Go ahead. I'm dumped. We're over."

Spencer gave me this look like I'd just kicked a puppy. "Is that what you want?"

It wasn't, and I couldn't tell him it was. I couldn't lie to him, even like this. I rubbed at my stomach to ease my discomfort.

"I'll tell you what's happening," I said instead. "I got a new job, and I'm moving out. You're getting your wish. No more distractions."

Spencer stared at me. "Where are you moving?"

"Downtown. And, Spencer…" I licked my lips. Swallowed. I had to tell him. But it felt all wrong doing it tonight. This kind of news was supposed to be joyful, even when the timing wasn't ideal. I didn't want to deny Spencer what I'd had, that moment in the bathroom when I knew it was real. I'd felt happy in that moment. Strong. Optimistic. Would Spencer feel any of that if I told him right now?

"You don't have to say it," he said.

I frowned. "Say what?"

"Whatever you were going to say. ‘Let's still be friends.' I mean, obviously we'll always… we won't not be friends. It might take a while, but we've always been friends."

He sounded so hopeful it made me feel bad, like maybe I'd missed something. Misunderstood. Like I hadn't just heard him call me a distraction. But my nausea was rising, my anger ebbing away, leaving nothing but sadness in its wake.

"Of course we'll be friends," I said. "I'm going to Lola's."

"You're leaving tonight?"

I turned and walked away from him by way of answer, not to be cruel, but because I felt sick. If I'd tried to say more, I'd have barfed on his shoes. That wasn't the statement I wanted to make.

Spencer followed me halfway to my bedroom, but by the time I'd packed my overnight bag, he was nowhere in sight. I listened a moment, trying to hear him, but the house was dead quiet. Maybe he'd left. I got in my car and drove over to Lola's, and she let me in without too many questions. She made up the sofa bed and fixed me some tea, and told me we'd talk more when I felt ready.

The next morning, I woke up and reached for my phone, and I didn't scroll my notifications for new texts from Spencer. Instead, I called Leila from the apartment I'd toured. I told her I'd take it. I'd move in right away. She told me I was lucky, because another couple had seen it, and she was pretty sure they'd wanted it too. But I had called first, so yeah. I was lucky.

I hung up and pulled my pillow over my face, and I screamed into it.

Yeah.

Lucky me.