“She’s right,” Laiyla says. “And you know how I hate to admit she’s right.”
I huff a laugh.
“Start treating yourself the way you would treat one of us in this situation,” KT says.
I exhale hard and push to my feet, pacing to help the thoughts flow. “I need to change the itinerary. I’ll pull out of everything I possibly can. I’ll arrange it so we’re never in the same room together.”
But even as the words come out, I realize how unrealistic that idea is. I also realize how weak it makes me look and feel. But when I tune in to the chaos inside me, I know I need space from him. I’d never admit it out loud—can barely admit it to myself—but a part of me still loves Bodhi. Maybe KT’s right, maybe I should be kinder to myself, but I hate the idea that I failed at putting that whole mess and all the feelings that went with it behind me.
“Totally doable,” Laiyla says. “It’s the perfect time, before the retreat starts. We can easily get a new schedule into the bags by morning.”
“You know,” KT says in a tone that tells me she’s about to get sneaky, “real or not, Z may have done you a big favor by kissing you in front of everyone.”
“Oh my God, how could you possibly think—”
“You want to make sure everyone—including Bodhi—knows you’re not getting back together? You want to send a message as a strong, resilient woman who chooses healthy, loving relationships with great guys? Then let Xavier’s little alpha stunt stand. Build on it. Show everyone at this retreat how blissfully happy you are with a man of law and order. There’s no better way for you to show everyone that despite Bodhi’s presence here, you’ve moved on with someone upstanding and honest.”
“That’s brilliant,” Laiyla says, eyes bright. “You always have the
best ideas. What are we going to do when you leave us?”
“Oh, don’t go there,” I say, refusing to think about Ben and KT and the girls leaving. “I’m barely keeping my shit together as it is. I may hitch a ride with you guys when you leave. I’ll bunk with Jazz. She’s little, doesn’t take up much room, and she likes me.”
“It’ll be easy,” KT says. “Z’s been wanting you since the day you two met. Throw the man a bone, for God’s sake.”
“That’s not right. I adore him. I mean, right now I’m pissed at him, but under normal circumstances, he’s…”
The room goes quiet.
“He’s…?” KT nudges.
“He’s my friend. A really good friend. That wouldn’t be fair.”
“Chloe,” Laiyla says, drawing my attention with a compassionate voice. “Accepting help does not make you weak, and it doesn’t mean we don’t think you can handle it on your own. Like you said, he’s a really good friend. Friends support friends in rough waters. You’re always the first one to back any of us.”
The closet door opens, and Xavier’s silhouette nearly fills the door, and that natural swagger of his shows even in the lazy way he leans his shoulder against the jamb and crosses his arms. “I’m game.”
Embarrassment floods my face with heat. “What part of boys, get out didn’t you understand?”
“I was out.” His voice is as calm as mine is frantic. “It’s not my fault you ladies talk loud enough to be heard outside the door.”
Oh. My. God. My face burns, and I cover it with my hands and growl. I want to scream. I want to disappear. But, fuck, I can’t. I have to deal with what is. I need to find the lesson in all this. I have to grab on to it and grow, even if it hurts.
But…not this. I’ll find another way.
“I’m no good at pretending, and I don’t have time to play games. I’ve got a lot of work to do to reschedule everything before morning.”
Xavier holds a hand out to me. “Come on, sugar, let me show you how easy it’ll be.”
I cross my arms. “This is stupid.”
“He’s waiting right outside the market door,” Xavier says, hitching his thumb over his shoulder. “And speaking from a guy’s perspective, I can promise you that if you leave without me, he’s going to think we fought over him and you bailed, which makes you extremely fair game.”
I pull in a breath to tell him he’s full of shit, but he’s not. That’s exactly what Bodhi would think. And, as much as I hate myself for all the feelings that have resurfaced, I have to admit that they have resurfaced. Having Xavier as a buffer could help me find my equilibrium and strength again.
“Or, you can walk out with me,” Xavier says in the silence, “and stroll past that asshat, showing him and everyone else out there that you’ve not only moved on, but moved up.”
“Moved up to yet another player?” The words come out with too much bitterness, too much accusation, and I immediately regret them.