“Jesus, your elbow’s pointy,” he grunts.
“What’s in it for me, Carter? ’Cause you being my date to this shindig isn’t enough.”
I know I said I wanted to be a better person.Stop being selfish, that’s what I told myself when I accepted this deal without knowing what I was getting into. That said, not being selfish doesn’t mean I’m going to let anyone, even Carter, walk all over me. Being a plus-one to a wedding is not equal to being the bride of a wedding.
Not to mention, what I really wanted from this agreement was for Carter and me to repair the friendship we’d lost. The friendship I’d broken. Instead, we’re acting like acquaintances who barely like each other. If I have to pretend to marry him, I needway more to get me through a marriage like that, no matter how fake.
People start to stand and chat, with others heading toward the ballroom behind us. Carter and I don’t move, except to turn and stare at each other. It’s dumb, but I swear I almost gasp when we make eye contact. The bright sun is making his eyes look like yellow crystal flames.
His eyes drop to my mouth for a second. I wonder if I missed a lipstick smear after all. “I can pay you. You’d get a cut.”
I scoff. “I don’t need money.”
Carter shrugs. “Everyone could use money.”
As long as billionaires exist, that statement isn’t even remotely true. But I don’t want to fight with him right now. “How long would we have to be married?”
He shrugs. “Till I get the money. However long it takes for her to give it to me.”
“Where would we live?”
Carter shrugs. “My place, I guess.”
I furrow my brow. “Where are you living now again?”
Before he can respond, arms from behind wrap around my neck so tight, I can barely breathe. When I glance over, it’s Lani and her mom. “Hey!” I stand to give them both proper hugs and cheek kisses.
We all small talk for a few minutes, but then Helena tugs at her arm. “We can’t stay for the reception,” she tells us. “With everything happening next week, there’s no time for fun or wine or dancing.”
I shake my head, my eyes going back to Lani. “What’s happening next week?”
“The universe in motion!” she exclaims, lifting her arms. Her mom chuckles and we all hug and kiss goodbye. “Tomorrow,”Leilani tells me before they leave. I think she means it to sound like a promise, but it’s almost—almost—a threat.
I turn to Carter, about to comment on how weird that was, but he’s turning toward the ballroom. “I need a drink,” he barks over his shoulder.
To which I respond, “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
Inside, I wait behind Carter in the line for the bar. I let my eyes drift over the crowd, pretending to act neutral. But what I’m really doing is making sure my ex, Johnny, isn’t here. Not that he’d do anything to me. Last spring, Sage scared the shit out of him so thoroughly with her gift, I’m pretty sure he’d leave immediately if he spotted me or her or any of us Flores women here. But generally speaking, he’s the last person I ever want to see, ever. Even though we’re not together anymore, the idea of being near him sends my nervous system into fight or flight.
He abused me. There’s no pretty, nice way to put it. It started with light shoves—just when he was angry, and I happened to be in his way. Except I started noticing that he thought I was in his wayonlywhen he was angry. Like he coincidentally needed to get to the cupboard behind me for a plate, or to knock me out of the entrance to the bathroom because he needed it first.
The realization of what was really happening came to me too slow. Hewantedto shove me, so he made damn well sure I was “in the way.”
Then he began to push me. At first, against furniture, so I’d hopefully land on something cushioned. But once, he pushed me against the wall so hard, the knot at the back of my head didn’t go down for three days. Once, he made sure I didn’t have anywhere to land but the cold, hard floor.
The last thing to come was the grabbing, the squeezing, the hitting. They were more infrequent, so Johnny could say thingslikeWell, at least I don’t hit you. I guess if a man hits a woman only every three or four months, it doesn’t count, apparently.
He threatened me by saying he’d ruin me, putting explicit photos of me on the internet for all the world to see if I even thought about dumping him. That’s why I didn’t leave at first. Not till Sage saved me.
And to add insult to injury, just before the new year, hiscousinRhett Miller took over Cranberry Fitness. And the first thinghedid was lay me off. I mean, yeah, he said they had no choice. They’d had to cut several workers. They needed to get back in the red. Blah, blah, blah.
Did that explain why they fired their most popular fitness trainer?
The problem—of which there are many, mind you—with being a DV survivor is too many people think you’re exaggerating or outright lying about what happened. Against all statistical evidence, most people assume the victim is making shit up for fucking fun, because becoming the town outcast—of which there are many—is such a joy to endure.
It was pretty clear what Johnny’s cousin thought the first time I met him. He looked me up and down with a snarl and ignored my outstretched hand. I knew I was unemployed right then and there, even though it took another month for it to be official.
I blink out of my thoughts when a drink is shoved in my face. “Oh!” I glance up as I take the glass. Carter looms over me, and he got me a whiskey neat. It’s what I always order at the Lounge.
