I crouch down in front of Marisa, giving her a reassuring smile as she sways in her seat. “Whose side, Marisa?” I ask gently. “What’s going on?”
“Maybe we should just get out of here,” Barrett suggests warily.
She dips her chin again. “I would like to request that we go somewhere with more alcohol because I think that’s the only way I’ll be able to scrub this entire night from my mind.” She grabs a glass off the desk, tipping it to her lips.
“Oh,” I murmur, reaching out and taking the drink before she finishes the contents, carefully setting it back down. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Marisa, what happened? Are you hurt?” My tone is urgent, and she goes still, her eyes two big bruises on her face.
“No,” she whispers. “Not physically, anyway. Aiden cheated on me,” she blurts. “Did you know that?”
“Yes,” I say slowly. “Dillon mentioned it.”
“He knocked her up.” Marisa’s smile is tight, a hard glint flickers in her eyes that seems to clear the haze. “I knew he cheated. I didn’t know about the baby until I ran into him. He was shopping with her, and she was—” She mimes a big belly with her hand. “He told me we were forever, and then he knocked up someone else while I was spending a weekend with my parents.”
Barrett shrugs when I look at him, so I turn back to Marisa. “Is Aiden here tonight?” I ask tentatively.
She shakes her head. “No. That would have been theicing on the worst cake in the history of ever.” Marisa blows out a breath, scrubbing a shaking hand over her face. “It took me a while to move on. Too long…but there was someone else. Callum. He works with Bliss.” She snorts. “That should have been my first warning.”
Barrett makes a low noise behind me, but we ignore him.
“Callum and I…We’ve been talking for months. We were taking it slow, especially because I was—” Marisa screws her face up. “I have trust issues now, but he asked me out on a date. Tonight.”
“Oh, well?—”
She doesn’t hear me, continuing, “Bliss knew about him. I didn’t think anything of it. I even talked to her. Because she’s my friend, right? It’s been…I felt hope with Callum, you know? He seemed…”
A bad feeling fills my stomach, and I really,reallydon’t want to ask. The question falls from my lips anyway. “What happened, Marisa?”
“I haven’t talked to Bliss since that night,” Marisa confides, and she doesn’t need to explain which evening she’s talking about. “And now I think she’s punishing me.”
“I don’t understand.” I’m fighting back the urge to shake her and force the story out faster. “What’s going on? What did Bliss do?”
A caustic laugh leaves Marisa. “Oh,nothing. Not really.” Her smile is humorless, cracking across her face like a shard of broken glass. “Bliss just took Callum into one of the bedrooms upstairs, where she rode him like a cowboy.”
Barrett curses, long and low, but Marisa isn’t done, her expression carefully blank as she reveals, “And then Bliss messaged me, asking me to come find her so I wouldn’t miss the show.”
Chapter 13
Dillon
By the time I’m behind the wheel of my car, I’ve got a location pin from Jack for an address thirty minutes away, in the suburbs. I make the drive in twenty, double-parking on the curb.
The bass of the music thumps under my feet before I even get inside, drawing up short just in the doorway. The place is swarming with bodies, and so loud I can barely hear myself think. I do a slow circuit of the living room, the smothering heat pushing down on me. There’s not enough light and too many people, so I move to the next room, constantly searching for any kind of familiar face, keeping an eye out for Barrett’s height. He stands about a head taller than the average person, and there’s no way he would leave Charlie’s side.
I reach the bottom of the stairs leading to the second floor when a hand lands on my shoulder, digging in and yanking me backward.
“What the fu?—”
Jack gets right in my face, his expression severe. “There you are. You took your goddamn time.” His usual humor is missing, and his jaw is clenched. “Come on. They’re this way.”
He lets me go without waiting for an answer, striding away from the stairs and down a darkened hallway. He uses his shoulder like a battering ram, forcing the crowd to separate and let us through.
“How did you know I’d come?” I call over the music.
Jack doesn’t look back, one shoulder lifting casually. “Lucky guess,” he shouts back.
As we move away from the sound system, the noise grows more muffled. “This is insane,” I tell him, able to lower my voice to a reasonable volume now.
“I know,” he agrees, shaking his head. “Carrie and Geoff gave every guest carte blanche to invite whoever they wanted. Bet they’re regretting that now.” He steps over shattered pieces of ceramic that look like they used to be a vase.
