How acquainted am I with the people who own the place?
How well I know them…
Knowher…
Goosebumps mar my skin, and my neck heats at the memories of her. OfUs.
God…her.
“Cass?” Amanda’s hand touches my left arm before she shakes me gently. “Cass, hey. You okay?”
I blink and look at her, then clear my throat and run a hand over my face. “I’m fine.” I give her a clinical smile. “Sorry.”
Her brows furrow in concern, but she sighs and doesn’t question me further.
I turn to my right. “Yo, Randall!”
He faces me. “Yes, sir? I mean, uh, Cass…sir.”
“Who took your coffee order?” I ask. I know Amanda is watching me, but I don’t care. Despite being my manager, she doesn’t know anything abouther.
I haven’t toldanyone.
And I know I shouldn’t ask Randall what I just did; that I shouldn’t do this to myself right now. But fuck if I give a damn. I need to know. I just…I need to know.
“Uh…” Randall scratches his head. “It was this short blonde chick and a muscly guy.”
My throat tightens. Her – it was her.
God… It washer.
“Thanks, man,” I tell him, then glance at the coffee cup again. With a swallow, I grab it off the table and run the pad of my thumb over the logo. Had she touched this cup, or was it Noah who’d filled it?
I’m aware that I’m being absolutely stupid, but my rationality jumped off a metaphorical window the second I saw where the coffee has come from, so I can’t exactly be expected to act sane anyway.
I clench my jaw and stare at my boots. Iknewthis would happen – knew that like the very air around me, she’d begin seeping into my skin the moment I stepped foot in Adenbrooke. I knew it well and thorough, and yet, like the fiend for punishment that I am, I decided to come back, to stay – if only temporarily.
That I decided to let Nia Connell breeze into my life once again and claim residence in that helpless, pathetic heart of mine.
3. Nia
“You’re27, Nia. Try not to act so forlorn, will you?” says one of my friends, Laine.
“Exactly. You go around like there’s no sense of purpose in your life or something,” adds Dara, then waves a hand around us. “Lookat this crowd, babe. It’s filled with potential fucks. Find a hottie and ride him until he can’t stand anymore.”
“Juice him and then lose him, as I like to say,” Emma chimes in with a wiggle of her brows, and I genuinely wish I was a violent human being, because I would love to strangle the fuck out of her for saying that.
We’re atHazel’s Barenjoying our usual Saturday-evening drinks. It’s been our tradition ever since we graduated college, and one I hope to continue even when I’m a 90-year-old bag of skin and bones.
I scowl at Emma, because, well, violence is illegal and all that, then finish my glass of whiskey sour a little too aggressively. I’m about to comment on her lack of eloquence when it comes to having a decent conversation, but stop when I feel a presence – a familiar yet irking one – on my back, making my spine stiffen.
“Here looking for a one-night dick, Nia?” His deep voice slithers over me; his heated breaths all but burn my skin. “Looking for a cock that can finally knock you up?”
Laine, Dara, and Emma tense. I stop myself from doing the same, and turn in my seat before glaring at the man in front of me.
“Brandon,” I spit his name with as much distaste as I can. “What I’m here for is none of your goddamn business.”
His green eyes gleam as he steps closer to me. “You’re mywife, you little–”
