I take a healthy gulp of wine and answer before I can talk myself out of it. Here goes nothing.
“Hey,” I answer, but it’s almost a bark and comes off as defensive. Really not the impression I’d want to give if I’d had any warning about his call and could’ve had the chance to prepare.
“Pais,” he says, his voice smooth, shortening my name like we saw each other last week.
“What’s going on?” It’s suddenly occurring to me theremight be a problem with Sienna. But if there were, wouldn’t my mom have called me?
“Don’t worry, everything is fine.” He chuckles warmly, like worrying is just some, like he remembers this detail about my personality and finds it endearing.
I want to smack him.
“I talked to Sienna a few minutes ago. She’s having a great time. I thought I’d call and say thank you for throwing her this bachelorette party.” He sounds so high and mighty, like he’s reaching down from his bejeweled throne and patting the top of my peasant head.Tap, tap. “It was big of you.”
“Big of me?” I parrot. The audacity has me flummoxed and unable to form my own coherent thoughts.
A second chuckle rumbles over the line, and I have a second urge to inflict bodily harm on him. “Yeah, you know, because we used to be a thing.”
I’m two seconds from hanging up when Klein strides back around the bar. His green eyes zero in on me, affixing me to this moment, tethering me to the center of the emotional hurricane swirling around me. He hesitates, and then, despite me being on the phone, comes closer.
My heart batters my breast bone. Why do I have to like the way he walks? Who does that?
Attempting to get my bearings (and failing), I make the asinine choice to once again repeat Shane’s last words. “We used to be a thing,” I say slowly. Great. Shane probably thinks I’m so overcome by his phone call I cannot form original thought.
What’s keeping me from using my brainpower is, unironically, the same person who caused me angst a longtime ago. Klein stops directly in front of me, and he’s all bronze with forearms that have the right amount of hair and corded muscle. His T-shirt dips and swells with his muscled chest. He is not supposed to have aged this well. Does he not know the rule of hated persons? Why is he not less attractive than he was the night I pulled him into my bathroom and attacked his face?
The corner of his mouth quirks, andoh greathe thinks he’s caught me ogling. It matters not that I was, in fact, ogling him. I cannot have him convinced of it. To rectify this, I shoot him a dirty look.
He snaps his fingers and points. “Now I remember you.”
Channeling my inner six-year-old, I stick out my tongue. His eyes squint, likereally?
Shane’s voice breaks through. Whoops. He’d been speaking and I hadn’t noticed. “...I think it’s great you’re coming to the wedding. I know things could be weird, but we don’t have to let them be that way. It’s all up to us, you know? We are the masters of our destiny.”
Something tells me his shelves are still crammed with books about mindset mastery.
“Right,” I agree, my gaze locked on Klein, but I’m not sure I fully understand what I’m agreeing to. My past has come hurtling at me from different directions and I’m busy drowning in the convergence.
Music from the DJ in the corner wraps around me, the sound breaking the spell. I blink twice, grasping at my loosely tethered bearings. Klein turns to go but I hold out one finger, imploring him to wait. I don’t know why. It shouldn’t matter to me if he stays or goes.
Shane drones on. “It would be great if you could bring someone with you, but Sienna said you aren’t seeing anybody?” The inference hangs, heavy and irritating.Poor, sad Paisley. “Don’t worry, Pais, you’ll find someone.”
The unwelcome platitude, offered with a tone of patronizing comfort, is the last straw for me. My molars grind. Angling the phone away from my mouth, I lean over the bar and curl my finger at Klein. He sends me a quizzical look but comes closer.
His nearness almost derails my thoughts, stopping my idea in its tracks, but I hold tight to my resolve and say, “On three, will you please say something a boyfriend would say to me?”
He makes a face. “What?”
“Please, just do it. You owe me.” I give him an imploring look, but truth be told this is the boldest request I’ve ever made in my life.
He stares long enough I’m certain he’s going to deny me, but then a little twinkle flits across his eyes. I’ll take that as acquiescence.
Placing the phone back at my mouth, I say in a louder voice, “I must’ve forgotten to tell Sienna I’m seeing someone. He’s here with me now.”
I count off on my fingers and hold out the phone. Klein’s lips hover an inch from my screen. His green-eyed gaze grips me as he says, “Paisley, baby, get off the phone. I’m done sharing you.”
I swallow. Hard.
DidPaisley baby get off the phone I’m done sharing youjust become my favorite ten words in the English language? Yes, but I’ll never admit it out loud.
