“Don’t make that face, she can’t physically drink all of it.” Colin winked. “To the Batmobile!”
I groaned.
Chapter Twenty-Three
COLIN
“You look tense, why are you tense?” I wondered out loud once we were seated in the Uber and on our way to stalking Jessie. “Isn’t this what you do on a daily basis?”
Blaire frowned at her phone and then shoved it in her purse. “Yes, no, well, I mean I follow people, yes, but most of the time it’s not—”
“So close to home,” I answered for her, leaning back against the scratchy seat of the Uber. The car smelled like hamburgers, which was confirmed when the driver shoved some excellent-smelling McDonald’s fries into his mouth and yelled back at us for the address again as if we actually knew more than what the Find My Friends app was telling us. The little dot stopped moving as I fired out the directions.
Blaire’s stomach growled.
I grinned at her. “Got a dog in your purse, or are you just lusting after the fries?”
“Fries are my weakness,” she sighed, “but we don’t have time.”
“We could always steal his,” I whispered.
She laughed behind her hand. “Make a quick getaway on foot.”
“Never ride in another Uber again,” I added cheerfully.
“Tempting.” She chewed her lower lip.
God, I wanted to be her teeth.
And I was an idiot for even thinking it.
“Work first.” She seemed to center herself again as she nudged me. “Grab your phone, where’s the perp going?”
“You’re not a cop,” I pointed out.
“It felt right.” Her grin hit me square in the chest. Jessie was an idiot for ever letting her go, a complete fool, and the more time I spent with her, the more I wanted her to see what I saw.
A confident, beautiful woman.
Who deserved so much better than a guy who would cheat on his wife. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. He was my best friend, what the hell was he thinking? Asking Blaire for her number? At first it didn’t bother me, and now? Now that I knew her? It felt a hell of a lot like cheating, and if there was another woman on top of that . . . ? I balled my fist.
“Right.” I cleared my throat. “So it looks like he’s headed to a bar in Hollywood.”
Her eyebrows scrunched together. “Well, he could just be passing it, right? In his car?”
Ah, hope, and the fact that I was about to ruin it for someone so . . . hopeful, with that look in her eyes, like men really thought to themselves, I’ll stop by for a quick drink and not a quick fuck.
“He just stopped in front of it.” I showed her my phone and felt jealousy hit me as her face fell. “But maybe you’re right and he needed to take a piss?”
“Right.” She seemed to perk up. “He did have that whiskey.”
A gulp of whiskey, but whatever. “Yeah, he did.”
I fired off the directions to the driver to park a block away, then we waited in silence.
Blaire staring at her phone like she was expecting a text.
And me staring at mine, challenging Jessie to prove me wrong.
Did I believe he was cheating? No.
Did I think he wanted to? Yes.
Did I blame him? No.
Did I want to? Yes.
So. Damn. Much.
I despised my sister in a way that felt like a betrayal to my family, to my blood, so I knew what Jessie was getting into, I knew how selfish she could be, but the minute she sank her claws into him I knew that he was lost to me too, and I never really got my best friend back.
He was never the same.
“So, what’s the plan?” I changed the subject as the car pulled up to the curb. “We sneak in? Get costumes? Can I be the pirate?”
Blaire slowly, very slowly, tilted her head in my direction. “Costumes?”
“Disguises?” I offered.
“It’s not a game,” she said through clenched teeth. “It’s my job. Go dress in drag on your own time.”
“Oh, I do.” I winked.
She paused and then shook her head like she didn’t want the mental picture of me in heels and bright-red lipstick.
The Uber driver gave me a nod. I think it was positive. And then I wondered if he really would hand over that fry if I worked for it . . . decisions, decisions.
“Look.” Blaire pressed a hand to my chest. “Just try not to get caught, and stay behind me, like I said, it’s my job, I just need to make sure he’s without female company. If he isn’t, I take pictures, get close enough to gain intel—”
“Intel.” I laughed. “Really?”
Her face tightened. “I know you think this is a joke, but I’m serious. I hate cheaters. Despise them. My job is to make sure they never do it again. I take pictures, find proof, file it away, and make sure that justice is served.” She seemed to flinch at that. “The point is this, if he’s dipping his dick in some other woman’s parts, I want to know about it and I want to expose it!”
“The dick or the parts?” I said.
“Both,” she said through clenched teeth. “So either come with me and stay silent, which will be a miracle, by the way, or eat his fries and go find a costume shop.” She jabbed her finger at the Uber guy, the one winking at me.
Hard pass, man, sorry.
“Yeah.” I scooted away from the front seat. “I say I go with you silently.”
“Great.” She didn’t say it in a happy tone, more of a tone that said, Oh hell, what have I gotten myself into. Uber guy had sad puppy-dog eyes. I think I made the right choice.
That was what I told myself.
Until I walked into the bar with Blaire.
And saw Jessie talking to a tall blonde drink of water, who leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
Stunned, I could only watch in horror as it played out in front of me like a bad dream. I’d assumed he was just going through a phase even though part of me was worried that something was going on—I hated that I was right. Hated that Blaire would feel the betrayal in a personal way no matter what she said about it being business.
I think I felt the look on her face, her heartbeat slowing, before I even saw anything register, like the need to take a picture. My hands were on her arms before I could form another rational thought, and then I pushed her toward a table in the back and waved a waiter over, ordered us more whiskey, and tucked her into my side so Jessie didn’t see us.
“No,” she finally said. “I need evidence.”
“Lipstick is on his fucking face, what else do you need, sweetheart?” I whispered in her ear.
The conversation around us buzzed with excitement.
And yet with her, all I felt was calm awareness.
If calm meant that I was ready to rip the table apart with my bare hands while slamming whiskey like water and charging toward my best friend like an animal.
Yeah. Totally calm.
“It could be anyone,” she offered.
I looked at her, really looked. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
She flinched.
Instantly I felt like an ass. “Look, Blaire, this is your job, right?”
She nodded, slowly, stared at the table then back up at me, and straightened her spine. “Right.”
“Ignore that it’s Jessie sitting over there, an ex-boyfriend”—I used air quotes—“the guy currently texting you while still married to my sister, mind you.” She sucked in a breath. “If he was any other guy and he’d made a lame excuse, left a kick-ass party, his best friend’s party, in order to meet some random chick with red lipstick at a bar he doesn’t frequent . . . what would you assume, sweetheart? That he was thirsty?”
“No.” She took a deep breath. “I’d assume he was a lying, cheating bastard, and I’d assume it would take me seconds to nail his dick to the wall before I took pictures and showed them to the poor girl he was cheating on.”
I leaned back. “He’s a j
ob.”
“He’s a job,” she repeated in a small voice that spoke of so much insecurity that my chest tightened.
I was pissed she was still semidefending him.
Pissed that I was pissed about it when it wasn’t any of my business what she did in her free time.
But most of all, I was pissed that in all of this, she was looking at him with the same desperation with which I looked at her.
And I’d never experienced that feeling before.
The quiet longing of unrequited love.
Not that it was love.
But it was . . . something.
And she wasn’t mine.
And there I was, on my birthday, in a shitty bar, with a girl who stole sideways looks at my best friend, while all I wanted was for her eyes to be on me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
BLAIRE
He was right.
I had been telling myself what I’d been doing with Jessie was innocent. Accepting texts. Texting back. Just friends catching up!
I was wrong.
I wondered, Had she felt that way, my ex–best friend, the one whose name I refused to think, refused to speak. Did her affair with my ex-husband start innocently too?
I wouldn’t know, would I?
Because I walked out of that life.
I never asked for explanations.
I just took my lot and moved on.
Why?
Why did I do that?
Why didn’t I get closure?
Because up until this point I blamed myself just as much as I blamed Jason. Because my heart, even from day one, hadn’t been totally in our marriage—it had belonged to a man who still held the broken pieces.
A man sitting mere feet from me, who I used to think had the power to make everything better.
When in all reality he couldn’t even figure out his own broken pieces, let alone mine.
I stole another glance at Jessie. What if there was more to the story? What if it wasn’t just that I didn’t have big boobs and magic cookie-making abilities?
What if it started with a text? What if it started with innocence, with justifications and denials, and quickly turned into something meaningful? I always placed myself in the shoes of the victim every time I tried to rescue others from the same fate, never thinking about how easy it is to justify an action—when we want that other person so badly.
Why the hell had I never thought that?
“You okay?” Colin nudged me as our drinks came. “You look a little lost.”
“Yeah.” I chewed my lower lip and clutched the small glass with both hands. “What’s he doing now?”
Colin let out a long sigh. “He’s ordering beer.”
I smirked at that. “Monster.”
Colin clinked his glass with mine. “Read my mind, Spy Girl.”
I went with it and lifted my glass into the air. “Happy birthday, Basement Dweller.”
He winced. “I guess I deserved that after the Spy Girl nickname, huh?”
I gulped down the shot, it burned my throat and settled warmly into my stomach. Yeah, he was anything but a child.
Colin was like . . . the typical bad boy with bad intentions on steroids, from his sharp jawline to his pensive stares. I could even get on board with the man bun, which made him look like a struggling actor just one audition away from a role as a Dothraki on Game of Thrones.
“Thanks.” He was quiet, so unlike him, as he stared into his glass. “Well, should we get the picture and find out intel on the woman with the red dress and red lips?”
My eyes fell to Jessie.
And the beautiful woman at his side.
He excused himself. And went out of view.
I glanced at my phone as it buzzed, flipping it over quickly so I could read the screen.
Jessie: Miss you, headed to bed in a bit. Thinking of you. Promise, more cat videos to come.
I slammed the phone onto the table with such aggression that the silverware rattled.
“Easy, tiger,” Colin whispered in my ear. I assumed he’d looked over my shoulder and read the text, and by his tone, it didn’t faze him. I had no idea why something like that wouldn’t make him charge across the room with fists flying.
“Why aren’t you upset? Why aren’t you pissed? It’s your sister!” I raised my hand. “Another round.”
Nobody came. Colin waved the waitress over and ordered. She gave him a sexy pout, but he seemed immune to her charms.
“You can go with her, you know,” I said quietly, hating the disappointed feeling in my chest. “It’s your birthday, maybe she’ll give you a few slaps on the ass.”
“I’m over it.” He shrugged.
“Your birthday?”
“The slaps.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Besides, I’d rather be here, on a spy mission, with you.”
“I think the mission is a bust, and you never answered my question.” I pointed to the door that Jessie just exited with the blonde girl on his arm.
“It bothers me. It does. But I also understand why he would look elsewhere. I’m not saying it’s right, I’m saying he’s a man who feels trapped, and I think instead of judging him, I need to help him. That’s Best Friend 101. Don’t throw the first stone when you live in a glass house.”
I nodded as Jessie disappeared from eyesight.
It was the first time in my career that I didn’t snap the picture.
The first time I hesitated.
Because I wanted so badly to be wrong.
And didn’t realize until that moment how much my own behavior hung on my perception of him. I perceived him as perfect, good, the ideal partner. My own failings in marriage weighed heavy on my heart as understanding dawned. I had always unfairly compared Jason to Jessie, even early on.
And the truth remained.
Jessie. Was. A. Man.
Human.
Not perfect.
“You didn’t get any pictures. Just intel.” Colin was so close, his breath on my neck. My stomach clenched, and all the blood rushed from my head down to my toes then back up again.
“Yeah, well, it’s your birthday, no working on birthdays.” I finally looked at him, really looked at him.
His lips were a heartbeat from mine.
It was a bad idea.
Being this close to him.
Smelling him.
Knowing what he tasted like.
Knowing the risk of getting my heart broken again.
Knowing that the last time he had sex was with multiple partners at the same time and that was normal for him.
Knowing that something sketchy went down between him, Jessie, and his sister.
And yet his stare, that deep brown-eyed stare . . .
I felt it all over my body.
I felt it in my toes.
I’d never felt a stare so intense before.
I’d always waited until the kiss to decide if I was attracted to someone.
But his stares, in a way, superseded his kisses, because it was like he was intentionally trying to rip apart every piece of armor I’d carefully pieced around my body to protect my most vital organ—my heart.
Our drinks came.
Shattering the moment.
I looked away.
I had to.
“This is it.” I felt like I had to say it out loud so I didn’t make more bad choices, so he knew my limit. “No more drinking after this.”
We clinked glasses.
I sipped.
He chugged.
And then he slammed a hundred dollars onto the table and motioned for me to scoot out.
Why had I said that?
I ruined the night completely . . . not that I wasn’t already in a weird place.
He held up his hand for me to wait, typed something out on his phone.
And then grinned up at me. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah, sure, I just need to grab a car—”
“Already got it.” He winked.
“O
h.” I didn’t think much of it. “That’s nice, but I live on the opposite end of town . . .”
“Ohhhhh.” He wrapped me in his arms and whispered in my ear, “You thought the night was over . . . it’s just beginning. No more drinking? That’s fine with me, but I’m not letting you go.”
“I’m not sleeping with you!” I blurted, gaining attention from a nearby table as they sent judgmental looks our way.
Colin let out a rough chuckle. “No offense, but did I ask you to? Or proposition you in any way?”
“No.” I licked my lips. “But . . .” I frowned harder. “No.”
“Don’t look so disappointed.” He burst out laughing then braced both of my shoulders. “Fine, fine, do you want to sleep with me?”
YES! “No.” I said it too quickly, my breathing was all over the place, just like the blush that stained my cheeks.
His grin hit me square in the chest. “Well, now that we’ve got that over with, little liar . . . let’s go.” He grabbed me by the arm and led me out onto the street, where an Escalade was waiting.
“What’s this?”
“Our ride.”
The driver opened the door and I scooted across the soft leather while he got in behind me.
“Where are we going?”
“So many questions,” Colin teased. “Maybe just let life happen for once, Blaire.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to confess.
To tell him that when I let life happen last time?
It kicked me in the ass and sent me sobbing toward two bottles of wine.
Control was better. Pouring my heart into making sure others didn’t get broken.
It seemed like the smart route.
I liked control when it came to the important things.
But he was throwing that off balance slowly, cheerfully, brilliantly.
I took a deep breath.
“Easy.” He pressed his hand against my thigh. “Just trust me.”
“I don’t trust people,” I whispered.
He was quiet for a few minutes and then he said in a low voice, “I know.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
JESSIE
I felt like a lying asshole.
But I didn’t trust anyone.
And while I kept up appearances for Vanessa’s sake, all I really wanted to do was toss Blaire over my shoulder and keep her for myself.