Of course. Everything is conditional with her. She’ll only do this for you if you do that for her. I should have known I couldn’t come here and just go to sleep, like I want to. Thankfully, my stuff wasn’t at the hotel—it was in the trunk of my rental—so I’ll have clean clothes to change into. That is as long as I don’t let any of them touch anything in this house, because there is forty years worth of smoke stuck to the walls and at least an inch of dirt and dust and other debris on the floor since I don’t think she’s vacuumed a day in her life. I would have done it if we could have afforded a vacuum. Maybe I should buy her one for Christmas.
“What?” I ask, shifting my weight onto my other foot.
“Just a few things around the house that need attention.”
I take a deep breath and let it out, knowing I’m not going to bed any time soon.
Chapter Twenty-One
Austen
I toss my keys on the table in the foyer as Savannah strolls past me with a groan.
“That was so lame,” she huffs with annoyance, heading straight for the kitchen.
I sigh as I watch her teeter into the kitchen on her Louboutins, the ones on loan to her from the company closet because I refused to pay over a grand for fucking shoes.
“It wasn’t that bad,” I say as I saunter into the kitchen. She throws open the fridge, grabbing herself an armful of chilled wine and a variety of fruits and cheese.
The lights from the chandeliers make the highlighter on her face sparkle.
“It was fucking dreadful. I, at least, expected the good people to be there,” she says as she opens her wine, not bothering to drink from a glass.
I only see her use a glass when we’re in public, anymore. God forbid anyone find out how utterly miserable she is.
And her misery has nothing to do with me. Not anymore.
“The good people?” I question, grabbing myself a bottle of water.
“Yeah you know, Tommy Stettler, Morgan Perigone, Gia Mercasa…”
I roll my eyes. “Tommy is an asshole, Morgan hasn’t spoken to you in five years—why? I still don’t know—and you don’t even like Gia!”
Savannah pouts as she grabs her bottle of wine, glaring at me.
“That’s not the point, Austen. I told you I didn’t want to go. Told you it would be lame as shit, and I was right. But noooo,” she sing-songs bitterly, casting me a judgmental stare. Those judgy stares used to upset me, but now I barely notice them.
I learned quickly they were just another way for Savannah to manipulate people.
Including me.
“Oh, right. Forgive me for wanting to see my friends,” I bite.
Savannah rolls her eyes. “You don’t have friends, Austen.”
Yeah, whose fucking fault is that?
“I have Mack!” I say, even though I know it’s a shitty excuse. Mack and I hang out once in a while, usually for a game of poker with his coworkers or when my brother’s in town and the three of us can meet up. His physical therapy gig keeps him pretty busy these days.
I’d seen some of my former teammates. But talking to them felt like talking to a brick wall, so I excused myself, went to grab a drink, and then I sawhim.
I didn’t even think he’d come, though I hoped he would. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to see him. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about him, or what happened between us all the time.
He looks good. Really good, if I’m being honest, but Cameron was always attractive, so I’m not surprised. He looks every bit the GQ model I’ve seen in the pages of magazines and on billboards. And maybe I watched the three movies he was in, even if they weren’t my style and he was only in them for a few scenes.
“Everyone knows you go to these awful things to show everyone up. If my arch nemesis isn’t there, who the hell am I supposed to show up?” She takes a swig of her drink. “That’s the only point of going.”
I shake my head.
