“Yeah…” Giving him a commiserating nod, I sigh. “So am I.”
SIXTY-THREE
I’m nervous.
So ridiculously nervous that I’ve been standing here outside his front door for what feels like hours now, trying to muster up the courage to knock. I can hear the muted sound of a television so he’s home unless he left it on for the hamster I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have. Maybe?—
Jesus, Millie. Just knock already.
Lifting my hand, I rap my knuckles against the door in front of me and wait.
And wait some more.
Even though I can’t hear anything but the television, I get the feeling someone is watching me through the peephole.
“You might as well open the door, Dean,” I say,looking directly at the little round fish-eye in the middle of the door. “I’m not leaving until you do.”
Now I hear something.
A low, rusty chuckle, right before the door in front of me swings open. “Hey, Mudpie,” He moves closer to lean his shoulder against the frame, one of those asshole smirks planted on his face. “You lost?”
“Nope.” I hold up the watch he left behind Friday night. “You forgot this at the hotel,” I say offering to him.
Straightening himself in the doorway, Dean takes the watch I’m offering. Looking down at it, he shakes his head. “Thanks, I?—”
Not waiting for an invitation, I take the opportunity to push my way into his apartment. Stopping in front of the couch, I scoop up the remote from the table in front of it and mute the television. As soon as the noise is gone, I toss the remote onto the couch before turning to look at him. He’s still standing in the open doorway, looking at the watch I just gave him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, suddenly so anxious, I feel like throwing up.
“What did you do to it?” Ignoring my question, Dean’s head comes up to aim a scowl in my direction. Lifting the watch, he shows it to me. “The inscription is gone,” he says like maybe I don’t know. “What?—”
“Me first,” I say, giving him a fast head shake. “Why didn’t you tell me that I was wrong? Why didn’t you tell me that it wasn’t you I saw with Paige that night?”
When I say it, Dean’s face goes still. Turning away from me, he closes the door behind him on a sigh before looking back at me. “Gwen told you.”
“Yeah.” I bark it out. “Gwen told me. My question iswhy didn’t you?”
“Millie…” Shaking his head, Dean looks away from me. “Do you want something to drink? I have?—”
“No.” I give him another emphatic head shake. “The only thing I want is to knowwhy, when I told you that I saw you with Paige, that night in the Hamptons, you just let me?—”
“What was I supposed to do?” he asks, his face collapsing into another scowl. Moving away from the front door, he stuffs his watch into the pocket of his jeans on his way to kitchen. “I mean seriously—” Yanking open the refrigerator, he stoops before reaching inside. Straightening, beer in hand, he looks at me. “The only thing worse than you thinking you caught me fucking your cousin that night would be to tell you that youdidn’tbecause I was with your little sister.” Slamming the refrigerator door closed, Dean yanks a bottle opener off the front of it. “What we were doing wouldn’t have mattered because you wouldn’t have listened.” Angling the opener under the bottle’s cap he pries it loose with a jerk, sending it flying. “You wouldn’t have believed me. You would have?—”
“I’m listening now,” I tell him, sick to my stomach because he’s right. I wouldn’t have listened. I would have believed the worst. “What were you doing with Gwen that night?”
“Millie…” Leaning against the kitchen counter, Dean hangs his head, giving it a miserable shake, eyes glued to the floor in front of him. “Please, just?—”
“Tell me.”
Head coming up, Dean gives me a long, uncomfortable look. “It wasn’t her fault. She was drunk and Paige had been?—”
“Tell me.”
“Okay… okay, just…” Dean sets his beer on the counter next to him without taking a drink. “After I left your room that night, I got back to work. Making drinks—making sure everyone was having a good time, making sure nobody drown in the pool.” Letting out a muted scoff, Dean shake his head. “Paige started pushing Gwen to make a pass at me. I could hear her—you’re getting married next weekend.Same dick for the rest of your life. Don’t you want to live a little before you let Dalton lock it down?”Looking away like he’s ashamed for some reason, he gives me a shrug. “She kept at it until Gwen caved. She came onto me. Tried to kiss me.”
The cheer I heard erupt from the living room while I was laying in bed, trying to sleep. I was right, what had happened was something I wouldn’t have approved of. Angry, even though I promised myself I wouldn’t be, I nod my head. “And?”
“And I shut her down as gently as I could, but I made it clearthatwasn’t going to happen,” he tells me. “She was drunk, Millie. She had no idea what she was doing and Paige wouldn’t let up. Gwen isn’t to blame here. She—when I told her no and she realized what she’d done, she was mortified. She started crying and she took off.”
