Asher’s smirk deepens.
I lift a single brow. “Sorry, I don't binge Love Island.”
His focus drops to my mouth. This man has been fed compliments like communion wine his entire life. I refuse to add another drop to his ocean-sized ego.
“Hilarious.” Parker's monotone pulls me back to reality. He taps his knuckles against my thigh. “Go shower. You smell like a sewer rat.”
I squeeze his hand with mine, flashing one last smile at Asher. “Of course. It was nice to meet you.”
Before I hit the corner that leads to the hallway, I turn, and my stomach lurches when I find Asher’s eyes still on me as Parker yaps about whatever mindless topic he’s on.
In a slow sweep, his focus drops to my exposed belly before lifting back to meet my gaze.Is he still smirking?
I shake off his spell and launch myself toward the stairs, obeying Parker like the good little wife I'mpretendingto be.
My bedroom door is barely shut when my phone dances across the bedside table.
I snatch it from the charger and answer.
“Yes?”
A horn blares on the other end. “You bastard!”
I relax, all tension evaporating from my muscles.
“Can you believe the lunatics in this city? Bunch of fucking savages. Some jackass just baptized my new Valentinos with gutter sludge!”
Nobody comes between Lucinda and her designer obsessions.
“God, I've missed you,” I confess, slipping into the bathroom.
“I was literally at your wedding yesterday. Chill. This codependence is reaching pathological levels.” There’s a muffled pause. “Wait, Jord's jumping in.”
“Jumping in?” I turn on the shower and sit on the closed toilet lid.
“Yes! Switch to FaceTime.”
I roll my eyes and accept the video call. Both their faces crowd the screen. Lucinda's perfectly put together and Jord's… shit, he looks wrecked. His blond hair sticks up in seventeen different directions, his eyes barely cracked open.
Jesus Christ.The guy's a walking advertisement for bad decisions.
“Did you just crawl out of a dumpster?” I squint at him.
“Yes,” Jord croaks. “Some of us actually celebrate at weddings. I consumed enough alcohol for both of us. And for your husband, who has a stick up his ass.”
I change the subject. “Can you both speed this along? I need to shower and play host to Parker's mystery friend.”
They freeze.
Lucinda stops walking, causing some poor pedestrian to slam into her. She doesn't notice.
“Friend? Since when does Parker have those?” She asks, and is that skepticism I sense?
I peel off my sweaty clothes. “Since today, apparently.”
Jord clears his throat. Even hungover, the man’s brain can work a conspiracy faster than I can think of what to eat. “Speaking of mysteries, anyone heard from Punk lately?”
The subject change isn't a change at all, since her and Parker are usually the two drunkest at every occasion.
