“Did you order the bridesmaid’s dresses yet?”
I lift my eyes from my coffee to meet Zoey’s gentle gaze, grateful that she’s trying to distract me. I’ve been the worst company for weeks.
“Yeah. They’re arriving next week.Sterling silver,” I muse.
She laughs. “Halliday chose them, I’m guessing?”
“She did.” I smile genuinely. “She’s so in love with my father, it’d be weird if they weren’t so cute together.”
“They are cute,” Zoey hums in agreement. Her eyes drop to my travel mug that the barista of the small coffee place we’re sitting in put my order into.
Black. Hot. A splash of vanilla.
“I know,” I mutter. “I need to get a new choice of beverage.”
“No, you need to eat.” Zoey fixes me with a serious look. “No supermodel has ever been told by her agent that she needs togainweight.”
I rotate my hand in the air like I’m waving a tiny victory flag. “Yay for me. I am the chosen one.”
“I don’t want to see you getting sick, Sin.” She leans over the table, lowering her voice. “He’s gone, honey. And I know that’s what you said you wanted, but?—”
“I don’t regret it,” I answer with an air of finality, like I will actually believe my own words if I say them out loud often enough. “He’d have stayed if I’d asked him to. Then where would that have left us?”
“Ten pounds heavier and a whole lot less miserable.” Zoey sighs. “You can’t keep going like this. Why don’t you call him? See how he’s doing?”
“No.”
“He’s in LA, not living on the moon. You guys could work something out.”
I chew on my lower lip. I considered the same thing in the beginning. I have the money to fly over there to see him whenever I want. My father has a private jet I can use. And so does Halliday. I could even have a permanent suite in a hotel over there set up for me, like Sullivan has his fuck pad at The Lanceford.
And each time I left him and said goodbye, I’d feel the familiar and unbearable ripping inside me, like I’m being torn from my body.
I’ve said too many goodbyes over the last three years. I can’t handle anymore.
“He deserves more than that. Besides, my family is here, and his is there. One of us would have to give them up eventually. And I can’t be the reason that one of us has to make that choice. I can’t do that to either of us.”
“The way he thinks that you and Brad, though, I…”
“I know.” I screw my face up in disgust at myself for that Oscar-worthy performance. Maybe I should have a word with my agent and branch out into acting. “But it’s the only way I could think of that would make him leave.”
“Sure did that.” Zoey exhales, leaning back in her seat.
“So, your bachelorette?” I say, moving onto topics that don’t include heartbreak, lies, or absent bodyguards with gold-flecked green eyes.
“I’m thinking Rio.” Zoey claps her hands in delight, and I grin at her, eager to step into her excitement. I’m her maid of honor and best friend. It’s time I pulled myself out of my self-induced downward spiral and acted like it.
“Ooh, yes. Theme?”
“I don’t know,” she muses, gazing out at the street through the window we’re sitting in front of. “Nothing too crass.”
“No inflatable dicks, got it.” I lean my chin in my hand and listen as she talks excitedly about what we can do there, and how Ashton will probably want to go and play golf or something that sounds equally boring. I’m so glad I’m nothisbest man.
We sit and chat for ages until Zoey’s attention snags on something behind me. “Pap at twelve o’clock,” she whispers.
I keep myself from turning around. They’re entitled to come in for a coffee. This place has a well-earned reputation for the best beans within a fifteen-block radius. But I’d still rather not today. Some have a certain level of respect when you’re inside somewhere. Out on the street you might as well have a flashing sign over your head inviting them to hound the heck out of you. But inside, drinking a coffee with your friend, you’d like to think some have a modicum of decency.
“Sinclair Beaufort?”
