Just do it,I scold myself. My hangover is trying its hardest to render me useless, but I shake it off.
My fist hovers over her door, but I don’t get the chance for it to connect when I hear a familiar voice from over my shoulder call out my name.
When I turn, I see Harley Wingrove seated on the black couch in the foyer, laptop open in front of him on the glass coffee table, with his phone placed beside it.
“Wingrove,” I say with a curt nod, hoping he doesn’t find it rude that I turn and continue to stare at the closed door in front of me.
I just need to do this before I chicken out.
“You don’t want to do that, man,” he tells me, and I hear his footsteps behind me on the hardwood floors, my body stiffening the closer he gets.
“I have to see if she’s OK.” I sigh, running my hands down my face, the headache forcing itself to my temples.
“The girls are all in there with her. They’ve got it under control. When Cassandra and Jenna are going throughsomething, they’re the only people who can fix it.” He chuckles lightheartedly. “They call each other their ‘platonic soulmates’—whatever the hell that means.” This time, we both laugh, and my shoulders soften.
“I just don’t know what else to do,” I admit, defeat washing over me.
“Come on.” He walks back to the couch, shutting his laptop and putting it in the black bag on the couch. “Let’s go back to my place. We can talk about it over a glass of scotch. Let me just text my wife.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, taps his screen, locks it, and puts it away. “We’ll take my car.”
He places two empty crystal glasses down on the table in front of us, along with a bottle of amber liquid without a label, only a sticker with handwritten words:Golden Girl. “You trying to poison me, Wingrove?” I ask, picking it up for further inspection, but nothing else is printed on the bottle anywhere.
He laughs with a shake of his head. “No. We’re about to branch out with Wingrove Estates, and are opening a distillery over Christmas,” he says. “This will be the first release.” Twisting the cap, he pours us a glass before sliding one across the table toward me.
“Thanks.” I nod, and I bring it to my lips to take a sip. “I’m more of a beer guy, but damn, that shit is smooth.” I place it back down onto the table, my fingers tracing every little indent designed into this expensive crystal.
He nods in agreement. “It took us a while to get it right, but I think we’ve nailed it now.” He pulls his seat out across from me while the two of us sit awkwardly. He’s the one who breaks the silence. “Cassandra filled me in on the way to Jenna’s apartment.” His brows pinch together.
“I fucked up.” I shake my head knowingly.
“Did you actually fuck up, or did it justlooklike you did?” he asks me.
“I guess that depends on how you view it.” I slouch into my chair. “Did I drunkenly hook up with Mara? God, no. But did I stop her while she said horrible shit to Jenna? Also, no.” Running my hands down my face, I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table.
“I’ve been in the picture for over a year, and know Jenna really fucking well. While she’s so incredibly stubborn, I know she loves with her whole heart.” He sips his drink, and I nod, pulling my hands away from my face. “I also know I could lose my fucking balls for telling you this—”
“Don’t say it.” I cut him off, because I don’t deserve to hear what he’s about to tell me.
“Alright. How about a different approach? Do you love her?” He shoots a dagger straight into my chest, and I feel it triple in size rather than wither away.
“Yeah. I think I do.” I chug back the rest of my drink at my admission, and pour myself another glass.
“That’s not going to cut it, I’m afraid.” He twists the cap, and glides the bottle back over to him. I tilt my head to the side. “I can’t have you fighting for someone important to me if youthinkyou love her. I need you to be sure, Cole.”
I want to tell him I’m so fucking sure, but the words can’t seem to form.
He watches me closely, and I’m not sure how much time passes before I drink what’s left in my glass, and tap my fingers against the side for a refill.
He does, albeit reluctantly, but I think he knows I need something to take the edge off.
“What if you’re just swept up in the moment?” he asks as he rises from his chair, taking the bottle of whiskey with him to put back on his drink cart.
Point taken.
“Look, I get it. I’ve never been unsure about wanting Cassandra. I wanted her my whole life. But Idoknow what it’s like to watch her walk away without telling her how I really felt,” he says, and I dip my head with a heavy sigh.
“So, tell me how I’ll know for sure, Wingrove, because I won’t be the reason her heart breaks.”
“You’re the only person who can figure that part out. But let me just ask you this. You guys live near each other in California, right?” he asks, and I nod in response.
