The Beauty of Us (Fusion #4)

“Fine.” She walks through the door and turns back to me, every ounce the drama queen. “He’s going to realize one day that it was a mistake for us to break up, and then he’s going to come back to me.”

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes and slam the door shut, effectively halting anything else she might have said.

“So, the ex-wife is a bit of a drama queen,” Kat says as I walk back to my desk and sink down in my chair. “Rough day.”

“And it’s only ten,” I say, and reach over to call the kitchen.

“This is Mia.”

“Hey, it’s Riley. Would you please have someone bring me a bag of ice? I have a killer headache.”

“Coming right up.” She hangs up and I cover my eyes with my hand.

“What are you going to do?” Kat asks.

“Well, I’ve already called him about one crazy girl pining away for him this morning, and he hasn’t returned that call, so it’s a waste of time to try to call again.”

Mia walks through the door and passes me a bag of ice.

“You didn’t have to bring it yourself.”

“I needed a break. My sous chef is gonna drive me to drink.”

“Please don’t fire another sous chef,” I say desperately. “I think this might be the last available one in the Portland metro area.”

“I won’t fire him,” she says, and tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “But I needed out of there for a second. You okay?”

“Aside from dealing with more than one jealous woman where Trevor is concerned, and not having actually talked to said man in the past four days?” I nod sarcastically. “Yeah, I’m peachy.”

“Men suck,” Mia mutters. “And I get to go back to the kitchen now and deal with one. Let me know if you need anything.”

She walks to the door and stops, looking back at me. “Riley?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t deserve that. Any of it. Don’t let him get away with it.”

“I won’t.”

She nods and leaves and I rest the ice on my head.

“Oh, that feels good.”

“She’s right,” Kat says.

“I know.” I’m glad the ice bag is covering my face because tears fill my eyes. “I love him, Kat. I really do. And despite these crazy bitches who can’t seem to get over him, I trust him. But this long-distance garbage is hard. I know I’m strong, but I don’t know if I’m this strong.”

“Talk to him tonight,” she says. “And I mean really talk. Voice your concerns and see what he says. He might just make you feel better.”

“Yeah.” I sigh and let the tears fall. “I’ll talk to him. If he’ll answer my damn calls. He better fucking get a new phone, Kat.”

“For sure,” she says. “He’s pissing me off over that one.”



It’s after eight in the evening when I walk through my door. Work has been brutal and I’m exhausted. I might need to talk to the other girls about hiring me an assistant. There’s so much on my plate now that I could use the extra help.

Rather than take the time to change my clothes and settle in, I call Trevor right away, immediately using FaceTime.

And he doesn’t answer.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter, and hit send again. This time he answers after about four rings.

“Hey, babe,” he says, and smiles at the phone, and just like that the lead weight in my stomach lifts.

“Hi. I really need to talk to you.”

“I know.” He looks away from me—toward the TV, I’m assuming, because I can see the lights bounce off his skin. “But tonight isn’t great. It’s Wednesday, so gaming night.”

“Trevor, I really need you tonight. I haven’t talked to you in days.”

“I’m sorry.” He pulls the earpiece out of his ear and looks at me. “I know things have been crazy, and that you’re taking the brunt of it. I really am sorry. Tonight is kind of a big deal with the guys, and they are counting on me to play with them, but I have nothing happening tomorrow evening. We can FaceTime all night if you want.”

I want to say no. I want to yell and cry and throw a fit. I hate feeling like his game is more important than me. That his job is more important. That his damn broken phone is more important.

And I have important things to discuss with him, but he’s not even paying attention to me anymore. He’s already hung that earbud in his ear and is back to playing with the boys.

“Trevor.”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t look my way.

“Why don’t you give me a call after you’ve grown the fuck up.”

I hang up and turn off my phone, then toss it in my handbag and walk away.

Fuck this.

I don’t need it. I don’t deserve it.

And I won’t stand for it.

Turns out I’m not made for the long-distance thing after all.

And fuck me, it feels like my heart is being ripped from my chest.





Chapter Eighteen





Trevor


I’ve spent the morning trying to call Riley and she hasn’t picked up the phone, nor will she return my text messages. I’m fucking pissed off.

The last thing she said to me last night was basically grow the fuck up, which I heard all too often from Stephanie, and it never failed to piss me off then either.

My reaction to Riley saying it had the same effect.

She knows that I play on Wednesday nights. That was never a fucking secret, and she said it was fine before. But now that I’m in L.A. it’s not okay?

I didn’t sleep much last night as I chewed it over in my head, and now this morning she won’t pick up, so I’m not in the best mood.

Not to mention, Scott and his wife, Wendy, are due here at my place any moment because Scott’s going to be my Realtor, and if I’m going to move to Portland, I need to sell my place.

I hit send on my phone, and Riley finally picks up.

“Hello.”

“I’ve been trying to call you all morning.”

“I know.” Her voice doesn’t exactly sound inviting. “I’ve been at work, Trevor. I can’t just always pick up when you call.”

“I texted too and you didn’t respond. All you had to say was that you’re busy. I’m frustrated.”

She barks out a laugh and I scowl at the phone.

“Oh, you’re frustrated? Well, I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe it’s good that you have a taste of your own medicine. Now, I have to go back to work.”

She hangs up and I’m left staring at the phone. What the fuck just happened? Before I can call her back and ask her what the hell flew up her ass, Scott and Wendy show up. I slide my phone in my pocket and answer the door.

“I haven’t seen you since you’ve been home,” Wendy says, and gives me a hug. “Scott’s been telling me all about your love life, so there’s no need to fill me in.”

“Oh, good,” I reply with a smile. Wendy and Scott have been married for the better part of twenty years, and I consider them both good friends.

“So, we’re going to sell your house,” Scott says, and opens his iPad. “Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure.” I nod and look around my place. “I shared this with Stephanie, and it’s time to sell it. I had to buy her out with the divorce, so I’ve lost some of the equity, but I’m hoping to come out ahead.”