The Best Woman

The Best Woman - Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Callie

I flop down on Dayton's sofa and groan. That was hell. Actually, hell would probably be more pleasant.

Laughing, he asks, "Long morning?"

"The longest, but Lucy's happy with the progress, so that's all that matters. Her friends are absolute twats, though. Dawn especially. I'll never understand how Lucy can be so nice but have those four as mates."

"They're just protective of her. And thanks for the barn."

"Huh?"

He cocks his head to the side. I should've known he'd see through my it-was-Lucy's-idea plan. "You think I don't know that was your idea?"

I sigh and kick my feet up on the footstall. "I just want you to have the day you want, too."

"Yeah, I don't really mind what she has but I suppose it's nice to have it at least somewhere I'll feel comfortable."

The front door slams, making us both jump. Bentley is back then.

He stomps into the room like the whole world is after him and collapses down next to me. "Women are ridiculous creatures," he says, shaking his head.

"Things aren't going well with Sam then?"

"It's just drama all the time. Everything ends in an argument, and if I mention your name..."

I have suggested that perhaps he stops talking about me, at least until she sees that we aren't jumping each others bones, but he hates the idea of holding something back when he isn't doing anything wrong. He won't censor himself because he's done nothing wrong, apparently.

I can't fault that; you either trust the person you're with and stay together or you don't and should just move on. It's hard on a relationship when you try to mix the two.

"I'm sorry," I say, wincing.

"Hey, it's not your fault. This is all her problem."

It isn't, though. They're a couple, so there is no your problem, my problem. They have to deal with things together, only they can't agree on how to deal with it. She wants him to have nothing to do with me, and he can't do that. I feel like Rachel from Friends. Only with better hair.

"So what're you going to do?" Dayton asks.

He shrugs one shoulder like he really can't give a crap. "I dunno. Can't see it going anywhere, though."

"You're thinking of breaking up with her?" I ask.

My heart gives a little leap. I want to stab it.

He grunts. "It's a better solution to having the same argument over and over again."

"Do you love her?" I ask. It doesn't sit well with me when I realise I'm actually holding my breath, waiting for him to answer.

A frown sweeps over his face. "No," he replies. "I don't love her."

"Well, you need to ask yourself if it's worth it then." Why, oh why, am I talking about his?

I need to shake that foot in mouth disease I seem to suffer from on annoyingly regular occasions.

Dayton watches us, and I refuse to meet his eye, knowing the exact questioning look he's giving me right now. That is the last thing I need.

What happened between me and Bentley was barely a thing, and it was in the past. Past, past, past.

My stomach flips over. Why won't Dayton stop looking at me? I focus on Bentley, which is only adding to the problem, but if I look at my best friend, I'll see his stupid judgement.