She’d dragged me to brunch this morning, toted me around on her arm while she shopped for lingerie for her wedding night and a swimsuit to wear on her honeymoon, and then convinced me to get in a yoga flow with her before we ordered dinner for the night.
She was in full-force, best-friend mode, and as much as I wanted to burrito up in my sadness all alone, I was thankful she wouldn’t let me.
My phone finally stopped ringing after what felt like forever, and I blew out an audible sigh, following Gemma’s lead as she transitioned into triangle pose. We left one hand on the ground by our foot, extending the other one in the air to get a good spinal twist, and I felt that detox goodness that only yoga can provide slowly filling me up.
And then, my damn phone rang again.
I growled, standing upright, but before I could take a step, Gemma’s hand shot out to smack my thigh.
“Leave it.”
“I’m just going to turn the ringer off so it doesn’t bother us.”
“It’s fine. Get your ass back on your mat and inhale, exhale, bitch.”
I made a noise in my throat, rolling my eyes with an exaggerated temper tantrum before I got back in position. Once again, my phone stopped ringing, and we started to slip into peace, flowing with the soft, new-age music.
Less than a minute later, my phone rang again.
“That’s it,” I said, and I scrambled out of Gemma’s reach when she tried to stop me this time. In the process, she tumbled out of her fallen triangle and landed on her ass, cursing me and crawling to try to grab my ankles, but I skittered away from her.
I was in such a rush to get to my phone before Gemma could stop me that I didn’t even think twice once it was in my hand. I saw Makoa’s name, and I hit the ignore button once, silencing the tone without ending the call completely.
“Who is it?”
“No one,” I said, but my stomach shriveled up at the sight of the letters that made up his name.
Gemma popped up, stealing my phone before I could register that it was her intention.
“Gemma, stop!”
“It’s Makoa,” she said, holding the phone away from me while I swatted around her to try to get it. “Belle, you still haven’t talked to him?”
“There’s nothing to say,” I said, still trying to knock the phone out of her hands.
“I beg to differ,” she said.
And then, the traitorous bitch answered the phone.
“Makoa! Hey, it’s Gemma. What’s up?” Her smile disappeared quickly, and she cocked a brow at me. “No, this isn’t the office phone. This is Belle’s cell.” He said something, and then she chuckled. “Well, she was in the bathroom, but… oh! Look! Here she is. One sec.”
This entire time, I’d been shaking my head with wide eyes that threatened all the harm I would bring that brunette bombshell if she didn’t hang up the phone. And now, she was holding the phone out to me with her hip popped and eyebrow in her hairline.
“He’s on mute,” she said.
“Just hang up.”
“No! Belle, you’re thirty-two years old. Grow a pair of lady balls and talk to him.”
I groaned, flopping down on the bar stool at my kitchen island.
Gemma put the phone in front of me on the bar, put it on speakerphone, and then took it off mute.
I cringed at the surge of noise that came through the speaker. Wherever Makoa was, it wasn’t his condo. It sounded like a club or bar, and though every ounce of my being wanted to strangle my best friend and chuck my phone off the balcony, I heaved a sigh, squeezing both eyes shut before I muttered, “Hello?”
“Belle Monroe,” Makoa said, slow and melodically. “Is that really you?”
“It is.”
“Wow, so she is alive,” Makoa slurred.
I glared at Gemma, but she just mouthed talk to him and pointed at the phone, ditching me long enough to grab our water bottles and bring them over to the island.
“She is, indeed.”
“You ghosted me.”
I sighed. “Makoa… I’m sorry. I’ve just had a really hellish week.” I shook my head, annoyed with him for being so damn persistent, and annoyed with myself that I didn’t want to just cut him off like I had a dozen guys before him.
“So come over,” he said, his words heated.
I gritted my teeth, remembering his words like a branding iron that seared my skin off.
You’re such a good time.
“Um, no, thanks. Sounds like you’re out having a good time, anyway.”
“I’m miserable.”
His words took me off guard, and I glanced at Gemma, who was giving me a look that said she was going to throttle me.
I gave her an equally dirty look that said something along the lines of what am I supposed to do here?
“Please, Belle. Come over,” Makoa said again, and this time, I couldn’t keep my frustration contained.
“No!” I threw my hands up, letting them hit the counter with a slap. “I know you’re probably tipsy and horny and want someone to fuck, and we both know that’s all I’m good for. You said so yourself Saturday night. But I’m not in the mood, okay? So just… just stop, Makoa. Go home and leave me alone.”
Gemma’s eyes were wide, and she shook her head like I was insane.
“What are you talking about? Belle…” He hiccupped. “I would never… I don’t think that. At all.”
I huffed. “Right. That’s why you called me a good-time girl on Saturday, right? Made it pretty clear what I was to you when you slapped that label on it.”
“What?” There was a pause, a muffle of the speaker and what sounded like him talking to someone else before he said, “I said you were a good time, yes, but I meant
