“Yeah, fat chance,” he retorts.
“Well, I don’t know what you want me to say. He’s obviously an asshole. Did you hear the way he spoke to me?”
“Like he’s your boss?” Nate’s brows furrow slightly, his eyes set in stone. It’s hisI mean businessglare, but it’s not going to work on me. I already have one man who thinks he can order me to do his bidding. I do not need another.
“Wipe that look off your face, Caldwell.”
He attempts to school his features, but a hint of concern remains. “Just be careful, Allie. Getting involved with your boss…”
“First of all, I’m not getting involved with anyone. Secondly, it’s none of your business who I do or do not get involved with anyway.”
Nate sighs and comes closer, resting his hand gently on my back. “Look, I know you can handle yourself. I’m honestly more concerned for Ashton than anyone else. I don’t know what went on with you two a few months ago, but I do know you’ve been avoiding him since the gala, and now you have to be around him every day. Be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I always am.” I try to sound convincing, but I’m not sure it comes across.
Nate gives me a brisk nod as he turns to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Tomorrow night? Oh, shit. I completely forgot about Luke’s belated New Year’s party. Em had to work double shifts at the hospital for the first week of January and had to miss out on all the parties, so Luke is hosting one for her tomorrow at her father’s house.
“He’s going to be there, isn’t he?” I whine.
“Considering he’s one of Emory’s best friends? I would think so.” He looks me up and down before he steps out, closing the door behind him.
Great. Just what I need after this hellish week and waking up to gut-wrenching pain. I have to hand it to Ashton. He didn’t get all weird when I mentioned my period like some guys would have. Still, telling him about my pain made me vulnerable. Just because he didn’t use it against me today doesn’t mean he can’t in the future. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching my mother, it’s that you don’t give people ammunition to make your life miserable unless you’re willing to deal with the consequences. As if she could hear my thoughts from miles away, my phone lights up with a text from her.
Mom: How’s the new job?
It’s good. I should be able to start helping with the rent in a few weeks.
Mom: That’s not why I asked, sweet pea. I’m managing.
I know you are. Gotta run, but I’ll come over soon.
Mom: I’m holding you to that.
I look back over the conversation, taking note of all the lies woven within the letters like a braid.
Hers and mine.
Like mother, like daughter.
The only thing left to do now is take a shower and hunker down with a heating pad and my laptop for the rest of the day.
Twenty-four hoursand a couple of pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream later, I’m sitting on a chaise lounge in the dimly lit library of Brian Caldwell’s mansion, sipping a tequila soda and watching Emory and Luke across the room. He whispers in her ear, and she giggles and blushes, playfully swatting his hand away. String lights twinkle along the mahogany bookshelves, and the soft glow of the crystal chandelier hanging above them catches on the gold-lettered spines. Emory resisted having a whole party just because she missed New Year’s Eve, but Luke finally convinced her, saying he would make sure it was intimate. True to his word, he only invited a handful of people and made sure it was in the library, Em’s favorite place, rather than the grand room where her dad’s summer gala is normally held. My heart sinks at the thought of the gala.
The gazebo. Emory’s ex. The lies.
Ashton comforting me.
Ilethim comfort me.
Luke bends down and whispers something in Emory’s ear again, and her eyes go wide. She looks up at him with puppy-dog eyes and tugs at his sleeve, but he shakes his head. She narrows her eyes with a bratty look on her face as she crosses her arms. Luke chuckles as he nuzzles just behind her ear, and she softens, melting into him.
“Get a room,” I mutter to myself, taking another sip of my drink. I love those two fools, but the sight of their unbridled love is not doing it for me tonight.
“She likes to wait,” a voice says above me, and I startle to the point that I almost spill my drink. I’m expecting to see Ashton’s annoyingly perfect, smug face when I look up, but it’s not him. The man standing in front of me is around the same height as Ashton, but that’s where the similarities end. He looks like he just stepped out of an alternative rock music video. His tousled dirty blonde hair is flipped off to one side, revealing the dark roots beneath it. He has thick black studs in both ears and asilver ring hanging off the cartilage of his left. Swirling ebony roses rise up from his chest, encircling the side of his neck. The shadows from the nearby fireplace dance along the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jawline, creating a jagged halo behind him. His lips form a straight line as his deep brown, almost-black eyes stare intensely. That’s when I notice his lip ring glistening in the light. I recognize that lip ring.
Declan Astor. None other than Ashton’s best friend.
