Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (82 page)

Her mouth falls open and in an instant, her eyes are overflowing with tears. She stands up, forcing me to take a step back, and shoves her finger in my chest.

“Don’t threaten me,” she cries. “I might not be
your
friend, but you sure as hell are mine. No take backs, asshole. I see you hurting. You think you’re so tough, but you’re not. You’re human, just like the rest of us. You have a heart, just like the rest of us. You
love,
just like the rest of us. Stop
resisting
it and
fight
for it. If you’re this miserable without her,
don’t
be without her. It’s not that hard!”

By the time she’s finished with her little speech, she’s worked herself up to a full-on sob. I don’t even know what to say as I watch her storm out of the conference room. The sound of her cry draws more than a little attention, and before I know it, Aunt Eddalyn is headed my way with a scowl on her face. She slams the conference door behind her and props her hands on her hips before she lays into me.

“What in god’s name did you just say to that woman?”

I sigh, shaking my head as I run my fingers through my hair. “Nothing that warranted that hysterical response.”

She eyes me in disbelief before pointing to a nearby chair. “Sit,” she demands.

“Aunt Eddalyn—”

“
Sit!
”

I pause a moment longer before begrudgingly doing as she asks.

“Now, I’ve indulged your behavior long enough.”

“I—”

“No. You will not interrupt me. You will
listen
. You might be my partner, but it’s
my
name on the door—not to mention, my age warrants a bit more respect,” she declares.

I bite my tongue, trying my damnedest to curb my anger. I know it will do me no good with Eddalyn as my opponent. Then, to my surprise, she takes the seat next to mine, turning so that she’s facing me straight on. She draws in a deep breath and then begins to speak, her tone soft and calm.

“A couple months ago, when you introduced me to Teddy, do you remember I told you that I’d tell you what I was thinking when you were ready to hear it?”

“Yes,” I mutter suspiciously.

“Well, are you listening?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow at me.

“Yes.”

“I’ve told you before why I’ve never settled down, but what I
didn’t
tell you is that I came very close, once. I was about Teddy’s age, perhaps a little older, and there was a man—a very fine, dignified man who saw me for who I was, accepted me, encouraged me, and loved me. He was very special, and to this day I still think of him.”

“What happened?” I ask, unable to quiet my curiosity.

“He passed suddenly. Automobile accident. It was tragic. I was devastated, and since that day, I’ve not found a man who was capable of making me half as happy as Isaac did.

“That night, at dinner, when I saw the way you were with Teddy, I knew that you had found the woman that you would compare all other women to. She’ll stay with you forever. It’s not something you’ll be able to shake. Trust me, I know. In many ways, I believe it has cost me; and yet, I won’t deny that I’m living the life I choose and that it is rich and full. But you and I are not the same, my dear.” She reaches out and places her hand on my knee, giving me a squeeze.

“Judah, you are not destined to be alone. Your heart is far too generous and loving. If things between you and Teddy can be salvaged, I believe it is in your best interest to salvage them. You might not realize it, but you wear your heart on your sleeve—or perhaps on your face,” she quips with a wink. “In any case, I know that you miss her; that you
long
for her. That, my nephew, is simply a testament to the mark she has made on you—the mark you will carry with you forever.”

I shake my head, feeling weaker in this moment than I’ve ever felt in my life. My fight seems to have been drained from me, and what little I have left is not enough to combat the ache that fills my chest.

“I don’t—I don’t believe in forever. Love is for fools.”

“You’re right,” she says with a nod. “But you’re looking at it backwards. The truth is, if we’re lucky, we’ll find a love that makes us foolish. As for your disbelief in
forever
—don’t let
forever
prove you wrong. That’s a long time to harbor the pain of loss.” She stands, rests a hand on my shoulder and presses a light kiss to my forehead. “I shouldn’t have to remind you of a rule you usually live by, but I will. You don’t
fight
the ones you love—you fight
for
them. If she’s who your heart longs for, and I know she is, then be the passionate, stubborn man I know you to be and get her back.”

She walks away without another word, leaving me speechless. Just after she opens the door to make her exit, she turns to address me one more time.

“You will apologize to Logan, Judah. I expect her next tears to be ones of joy. And believe me, with her hormones all awry, there will be tears. You’ve been warned.”

When a knock sounds at my front door, I check the time, turning down my television as I go to answer. It’s after six and I’m not expecting anyone, but with five days until Christmas, I know that the delivery men are out later than usual. I still haven’t received Teddy’s gift, which I found online sort of last minute, and to receive it now would be a huge relief.

I don’t check the peephole before I open the door, but as soon as I see who is standing on the other side, I wish I had. Standing there, looking sexy as fuck, is the man who has robbed my best friend of her joy. She’s smiling more these days, but the light in her eyes has yet to return—and
he’s
to blame.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to speak with you. It’s about Teddy.”

“This ought to be rich,” I mutter, folding my arms across my chest.

“I’d rather not have this conversation in the middle of the hallway. Are you not going to invite me in?”

I narrow my eyes at him, wondering where he gets the nerve. “Considering the fact that for the last month I’ve been watching one of the best people in the world that I know pick up the pieces of her shattered heart—her shattered heart that
you
demolished—I’m sure you’ll understand that I don’t give a fuck what you want. You have something to say, I’m listening. And you better believe you have all of ten seconds to convince me I shouldn’t shut this door on your sorry ass.”

He clenches his jaw and draws in a deep breath, and I can practically
smell
his effort to keep himself under control. This isn’t the first time we’ve stood toe to toe, and I’m aware that his willingness to surrender to my demands means something—it means that he’s not here for completely selfish reasons. Nevertheless, I won’t ease up on the man until he gives me a reason to trust him, and he’s got a long way to go before I’ll even consider it.

“I want her back. I need your help,” he finally says.

“You want her back,” I repeat with a condescending chuckle. “That’s nice. Good luck with that.”

Truth be told, I know in my gut that if it wasn’t
my
door he was standing in front of, but hers, that’s all he’d have to say for her to fall into his arms again. But she deserves far more than—
I want her back
—and it’s not
her
door he knocked on, it’s
mine
, which has given me a unique opportunity to fight for her in ways she’s not strong enough to fight for herself right now. And it might not be much, but if refusing to help him means he has to try harder, then that is what I intend to do.

I take a step back and he’s quick to take a step forward as he states, “I’ll do what needs to be done with or without you, but it would be a lot easier if I had your help.”

“It comes as no surprise to me that you want her back. You
should
want her back. She’s probably the best damn thing that ever happened to you—but you threw her away as if she meant nothing to you, and I won’t let you do it again. So
excuse me
, but I have far better things to do with my evening than to spend it listening to you.”

Just as I begin to close the door, he smacks his glove covered hand against it, holding it open as he insists, “She belongs to me.”

“Then you shouldn’t have let her go,” I argue, shoving the door against his resistance.

I almost have the door shut when he shouts, “
I
belong to
her,
dammit!”

That
makes me pause.

I open the door a little to meet his grey eyes. He meets my gaze unwaveringly.

“I belong to her,” he repeats, his tone both calm and determined. “I want her back. I have a plan, and I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important—if
she
wasn’t important.”

Silence passes between us as I regard him one more time. Then, with a nod, I open the door completely and step aside, inviting him in.

A
s I sit curled up on the couch, staring at the family Christmas tree glowing in the corner, I wonder if maybe tomorrow it’ll finally feel like Christmas. It’s early afternoon on Christmas Eve, and mom is upstairs napping while dad is out with the crazy last minute shoppers. It all feels so incredibly familiar, and yet oddly foreign. Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe
I’m
different.

Harper and I have been at my parents’ house for the last three days, participating in all the same traditions that we do every year. We’ve baked cookies, we’ve wrapped presents, we’ve watched half a dozen Christmas movies—and yet, none of it feels as it should. None of it makes me as happy as it has in years past. Even now, as I see the snow falling lightly outside, giving us just a little more
white
for our Christmas, it doesn’t feel particularly special.

With a quiet sigh, I look to the couch adjacent to the one I’m occupying by myself. Ben and Harper are sitting together—him with his laptop across his legs as he works; her propped up against his shoulder as she stares happily at the movie on the television. Their breakup lasted all of seventeen hours, and then all was right in their world again. Seeing them together now, I’m glad for them. I’m glad that they have each other. I’m glad that their holiday will be everything that it should be—filled with love and family. And yet, at the same time, I cannot ignore the fact that my envy of Harper and what she has with Ben is eating away at me.

It makes me feel like a monster, and yet I can’t shake it. Or perhaps, more accurately, I don’t
want
to. It’s sort of a relief to have a tight hold on something other than just sadness. Granted, I’m fully aware that my envy is derived from my sadness—but that’s just semantics. My heart doesn’t care about the logic in my shift of emotions, it’s just content with the change of scenery.

A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts and I scowl for a second, wondering who it could be. We’re not expecting company, and dad wouldn’t come through the front door. Besides, he only left an hour ago.

“Do you want me to check and see who it is?” asks Harper.

“No,” I reply, recognizing her reluctance to get up. “It’s fine. I’ll go.”

On my way out of the room, there’s another knock—
louder
this time. I pick up the pace, hurrying toward the entryway, hoping to answer before whoever it is wakes up my mom. I twist the deadbolt and open the door, and then all the air in my lungs rushes out of me.