Never hated an idea so much in my life.
Kiki rests a hand on my arm, her brows furrowing. “Will you text me when you get home? I worry.”
“Of course.”
She steps in and hugs me around the waist. I fold her into my arms, but one thought remains.
Friendship, Eddie. Just friendship.
Once I’m safely within the confines of my truck, I drag a hand over my face and release a low groan. “Fucking hell,” I mutter. “This is only going to get harder. Still not stopping, though. No way I can quit her.”
As soon as I arrive home, I send out a quick text.
Me: I’m home.
Her reply comes almost instantly.
Kiki: Good. I was wondering. I had a really good time tonight.
Me: Me too.
See? Simple. Friendly.
But then…
Kiki: You’re exactly what I needed tonight. What I need every night.
I stare at the phone. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Too bad the phone doesn’t have a clue, either.
Before I can fumble out a response, Kiki texts again.
Kiki: Sleep well. Talk soon.
Huffing out a breath, I strip off my shirt and head for a cold shower. I’m not sleeping at all tonight.
Chapter 6
Thirty-Nine and Holding
Kiki
“Fuck him and get fucked.”
I straighten on my bar stool, eyes widening at my cousin Billie’s heated demand. “I’m assuming you mean Drake. I’m not entirely sure who the second part was directed at.”
Billie rolls her eyes, takes a long sip of her aggressively pink drink, then sets it down with a sharp thunk. “Obviously fuck Drake. Who the hell calls someone from jail on their birthday acting like he didn’t just blow your life up? He’s a piece of shit.”
“Agreed,” I reply, dragging my straw through the ice in my glass. “But that’s hardly breaking news.”
The real scoop? Drake doesn’t correspond with me. Not once since my lawyer served him with divorce papers.
So when my phone lit up earlier tonight and I saw the prison number flashing across my screen, it twisted my insides, but not nearly as much as the words flitting past his lips.
He called to wish me a happy fortieth. To some, that might seem innocuous. Hell, kind even. But Drake is not kind and he didn’t leave it at a celebratory greeting. No, he proceeded toinform me that he had grand plans for my big day, at least before the law caught up to him. A cruise around the Caribbean with all the accoutrements.
He seems to have forgotten that I loathe cruise ships. The idea of floating on a giant barge filled with strangers in the middle of the ocean is akin to surgery without anesthesia. He also dropped hints that maybe when he got home, we could still go, as if he’s on a business trip in Japan and not cooling his heels in a federal detention facility. When he ended the call with a “Cheer up, forty isn’t that old,” I pitched my phone across the room.
