Page 44 of Weddings, Revenge & Fake Dating

Mom and her new beau are already at the table. Robert is an artist who has a gallery in the Wynwood. He’s currently painting her portrait—nude, which means this guy will be around until it’s done and hanging in her living room. If he’s lucky.

“Is this what you saw online about Nathan, the secret you should have told me?” I ask Mom and wave my hand to indicate the crowd.

“I’ve got lots of secrets. But the question is, if I told you, would you have gone on the first date?” she asks.

“Do I even have to answer that?” My voice cracks as I settle in the chair beside her. Knowing the truth about Nathan’s fame would have scared me away, which makes me sad because he’s kind of awesome.

Mom lifts a brow. “You picked a hell of a rebound.”

“He’s not a rebound.”

“Don’t be stupid. Nathan might be your last chance for some strange booty if your wicked plan works. Have some fun.”

I can’t deny the temptation he offers. Every second we spend together makes me question why I’m not taking advantage of the situation. He’s awakened my inner cougar, and it’s increasingly harder to control. The itch is growing, or is it growling?

“Did you see Dex before you left?” I ask.

“He and Freaky Freddie went out with some girls.”

“Nathan’s been coaching their confidence. I guess it’s working.”

I make a note to myself to ask Nathan what he’s been preaching to the boys. But isn’t this what I’ve been eagerly awaiting, for Dex to come out of his shy shell and experience all teenage life has to offer?

A new realization hits me. Dex is the same age as I was when I met Roman.

When I think of Dex meeting someone he might spend the rest of his life with, I blanch. He’s fifteen, too young for that kind of commitment, which means I was too young.

Maybe all this time I’ve been pressing Dex to experience more because I haven’t in my own life. Perhaps I’ve been projecting my own cravings for adventure onto him, only so I could live vicariously through his experiences.

The next aha moment hits harder.

There’s no one to stop me from experiencing everything I’ve missed out on anymore. No one except me. Will I continue to stand in my own way?

With the way I feel right now, I think, Not tonight. Tonight, I feel strong. Tonight, I say, Bring me the zombie drugs and let me eat some faces!

I chuckle to myself, but Mom misreads my reaction.

She pats my arm. “Knowing Dex, he’s probably taking everyone on a boring cultural tour through South Beach, detailing the significance of MiMo architecture.” She sticks a finger in her mouth and fake gags.

A server brings an ice bucket with champagne and places three flutes on our table. “Compliments of Wolf.” She presents the bottle’s label for our approval. It’s French with lots of gold foil and probably cost a fortune.

“Fancy!” Mom waggles her brows.

“He asked me to give you this.” The server removes a piece of paper from her apron.

“Thanks.” I take it.

“What’s it say?” Mom leans closer as I unfold it.

“He says he hopes we enjoy the show,” I fib.

When Mom and Robert are engaged in conversation, I open the note and read it over and over. In scratchy handwriting, it reads:

This performance is for you. XO, N

For some reason, this causes me to suck in a breath and hold it in my chest. A fluttery feeling in my stomach makes me so high, I might float away.

“Everything okay?” Mom bumps my shoulder.