“I’m fine with the rooftop bar,” Andre says. “Strippers don’t scare me. That just means there will be more hot girls around.”
Paul nods. “Good point.” He sips his water.
“As long as there are railings to prevent me from falling, I’m in,” Hudson says, and everyone around the table laughs.
“Well, I’m in, if Huds is in,” Trey says, reaching for the bread.
Everyone turns to Mack. He leans back in his chair, twisting his lips.
“Fine. Whatever.”
After paying for brunch, we head for the Forum shops. Everyone wants to get souvenirs for themselves, but also their parents and siblings.
I haven’t done much shopping here, which is a shame. This place is packed with amazing stores and shops, most of them designer. My taste in fashion might be the only thing I got from my mother because we both definitely have a knack for the finer things in life.
Like Austen, I had a trust. I wasn’t supposed to get the money until I got married and moved out, but my parents knew I was a lost cause because my dad went behind my mother’s back and let me have access when I turned twenty-one.
I took the money and bought my house. It was cheap, a total fixer-upper, but it felt needed. Mom was pissed I didn’t go through her to get a place, but I didn’t care. Britt and I have spent the last two years fixing it up so I could move into it. I wanted her to come with me, but…
I shove the thoughts of my mind. I’m not going there. I can’t. This has to be the last time we break up. I can’t keep falling into these patterns, I know that. And because the universe hates me, that’s when she texts me.
You need a ride from the airport?
I stare at her text. I want to say no and tell her that I can get an Uber, but I don’t.
I want comfort. I want to be able to break down in front of someone and bitch about how men suck. No one understands that better than Britt.
Yeah, that would be great, babe.
Just tell me when and I’ll be there!
I notice the emojis attached to her message. The kissy face. The wink. The love eyes.
She always does this. Pushes me and pulls me. And I always let her, because I hate being alone. We date, we fuck. We break up, we fuck. She meets some guy who’s got his shit together. They break up. I console her. We fuck. I meet someone, we fuck, they leave.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
I look up from my phone as the guys head into the Givenchy store. I lean against the window, staring at her text, unsure how to respond. Maybe I should say nothing.
Mack leans against the window next to me, but from his size, there’s not much space between us.
I don’t say anything. I stare at my phone, trying to remember to breathe.
“This is why,” he says solidly.
I scoff, turning away from him.
“I thought we weren’t talking about this,” I say bitterly. “I mean, someone might hear you.”
Mack growls.
“We’re not. I’m just reminding you, thatthat—” He points in the direction of the store, at Austen. I can see his smile from here, fake as it is. His eyes are tired, and his shoulders slumped. He’s here, but he’s nothere.I hate seeing my brother like this. I hate not being able to do a damn thing about it. Mack’s words are like shards of ice, sharp and brutal. “—is what happens when you let shit affect you.”
I watch as Austen’s friends flock to him like a magnet. Hudson tries on a bracelet, Paul pretends to throw a football to Andre. Trey smacks Austen on the back as they engage in some conversation. I know they are just trying to make him feel better, build his spirits or whatever, but I can see how sick of everything Austen is because I know my brother well, even if we aren’t close.
We have the same parents. The same traumas.
He just hides it better than I do.
