“Of course! Why don’t you pick out a ring, sweetheart? And send the bill to me?”
Her face falls a little. “Well…but shouldn’tyoupick it? To show you care?”
Oh jeez.She wants moneyandlove. “Of course I care, but I have a really big case right now.” I smile ruefully. “I have to win it to make partner. Don’t you want to be Mrs. Joshua Huxley, the wife of a partner and a rising star at Huxley & Webber?” I sweep my hand from left to right, showing her the beautiful vista of the future she could have if she’ll just buy an engagement ring and send the bill to my brother.
“Oh my God.” Her eyes twinkle as she clenches her hands and hops in excitement. “That sounds amazing.”
“I know. You’re the only woman who got this far. Most women… They just couldn’t hang.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I nod, putting on the solemnity I’d reserve for a murder trial—if I ever decide to practice criminal law. “You’re the best of them all. The most beautiful, the most intelligent, the most charming… Imagine the kids we could have together.”
“Oh myGod! You wantkids?” she squeals.
“Of course. We have to leave our legacy to someone.”
She hugs me. “I love you, Josh.”
I pat her back. “I love you too.”
“Let’s go celebrate.” She tugs at my arm. “This way.”
I follow her out, although I don’t plan to celebrate. Now that I’ve exacerbated the woman problem for Josh, I plan to go home, puff a good cigar and go to bed. Our stepmom Akiko will be upset if I stay up too late and look tired in the pictures tomorrow. She’s a firm believer in taking as many great photos as possible.
“Who’s this brainless bimbo? Your plus-one to the wedding?” comes a familiar, sneering voice, one that’s always reminded me of a mixture of chicken grease and mayonnaise.
I cock an eyebrow and turn to confront Jude Morven. I haven’t seen him since I graduated from Harvard undergraduate. I went off to Harvard Law, and didn’t care where he ended up.
The bastard still looks like a snake, albeit older. The recessed lightshit his slightly wavy golden hair, neatly styled and held stiffly in place with wax. The eyebrows are probably shaped and plucked—they weren’t this tidy in college. The eyes are the same cold and soulless blue. If he ever wanted to go into acting, he’d be amazing at playing serial killers; all he’d have to do was be himself.
His skin is slightly tanned, which must’ve taken a lot of effort. The fucker burns, and he was paler than pizza dough from fall to spring in Massachusetts. He’s wearing a black button-down shirt with three buttons undone and black slacks. He tries too hard to look imposing and cool, especially since his frame is on the slender side.
Our enmity started in high school, with him initiating it. I never understood why until Josh told me that Jude hated me for beating him in everything. Apparently, until he met me, he was number one—in golf, tennis, academics and girls.
“He can’t beatyou, either,” I pointed out in confusion.
Josh shrugged. “Butyoubeat him first, not me. So he’s fixated onyou. And he’s so hung up,he can even tell us apart now.”
Hardly anyone outside the family can tell us apart. “What a freak.” It wasn’t my fault Jude couldn’t measure up, and I dismissed a rivalry that only he cared about. He wouldn’t let it go, though, and it pissed him off that a girl he liked asked me to prom.
So his much-delayed revenge was sleeping with Fiona—in my bed. The difference was that the girl in high school wasn’t dating him. Fiona was in a committed relationship with me—or so I thought. The commitment obviously didn’t run very deep if she could throw it away to sleep with a guy who hated my guts. Of course, I didn’t let him go unpunished. I turned his face into hamburger meat.
“I’m going to be hisbride,” the brunette crows, tightening her hold on me, which gets a smirk from Jude.
Whatever confrontation is to come isn’t going to be pretty. I don’t want her witnessing it. “Sweetheart, go pick out your ring, okay? And call me.”
“I will. Love you.” She wags her fingers goodbye and leaves, her step springy.
Jude watches her go. “Pathetic. You always knew how to pick theworst women. Typical loser. Make sure to buy the most expensive item on the registry.”
Not worth an answer. “So you’re getting married? To what? A water moccasin?”
A corner of his mouth quirks. “Finn Oberman.”
I study him, my eyes level and steady. There’s the same smarmy smile. The same inferiority complex. I don’t believe for a second he’s marrying her. He treated her like trash back in college, somebody you deign to allow to warm your bed, but would never marry. Even a piece of shit like Jude would need to have a modicum of respect to make somebody his wife. He has too much pride to marry someone “beneath” him. Fiona was just a tool he found to claim superiority over me, nothing more.
Besides, she left him as soon as we graduated. Went to some dinky little town in Wisconsin and cut all ties. Didn’t bother with reunions or alumni associations, either. It’s like having the diploma in her hands suddenly wised her up, although it doesn’t explain why she cried like her world was ending when Jude went into a coma from a nasty car crash he had a month before graduation.
