Page 68

HAYDEN

Claire says, “Danny? They called you that on the field sometimes.”

I bite some bread. “Prep school/football nickname.”

Bette turns to me. “What are you saying to me? Danny was a nickname?”

I look at her, totally confused. “Why are you surprised? Dan was a team nickname for my last name and you’re the only one who called me Danny.”

“Daniel is your middle name. What are you even saying to me?”

“They called me Danny Boy because there was another Chris on the team, so they changed my name.”

Her jaw is wide open and she keeps shaking her head.

Claire and I bust up laughing. “You thought my name was Dan Danson?” I can’t help but laugh harder. She smacks my arm. “And you were in love with me, right? You were in love with Daniel Danson. You wanted to be Mrs. Dan Danson?”

“No! I mean, yes. Ugh. Stop it. I thought it was Christopher Daniel Danson.”

Claire and I laugh hysterically that this great love of my life didn’t even really know my name. She slowly starts to giggle and then a full-on Lizzie-worthy guffaw erupts from her. One of my favorite sounds in the world. Would only be better if I could make her snort laugh.

When we all settle down, Claire says, “Christopher. It’s been a long time since I heard the ‘C’ word. Clearly the two of you need to talk. And Bette? What happened to Lizzie?”

I still can’t believe she’s sitting next to me.

She says, “What hasn’t happened to Lizzie?” We all laugh and she continues, “I got married, divorced, and used a different derivative of Elizabeth.”

Claire fist-bumps her forehead. “You were both looking for different people this whole time?”

I let that settle over the table and we ignore the weight of it as I pass a chocolate croissant to Bette. She shoves half of it in her mouth. Again, I stare at her, but this time because the image of her lips wrapping around that long pastry is a bit more than my eager dick can handle. He’s about to punch through my jeans if she keeps moaning like that. She sees me staring and heat flashes in her eyes.

“This is really good.” She pats the powdered sugar from her shirt and drops the pastry. “But I’m going to go. You two catch up. Nice to meet you, Claire. And, Danny, I guess it’s nice to meet you, too.” We laugh, but we’re only starting to unravel what happened to us. And even if I can’t stand her on the other end of this conversation I need to know what the hell happened.

BeLizzie stands up.

“Nope. Sit your ass down Bette/Lizzie. Elizabeth Marjorie Fox Miller. BeLizzie, if you will. Claire, you can go. I’ll see you tonight.”

BeLizzie flumps back down as I pull her arm. Then stands again. I cock an eyebrow in warning.

“I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll come back, but only for five minutes.” She skips off and I watch her ass.

When I look back to Claire, she has her arms crossed over her chest. “Oh, my brother. This is the most fucked-up situation ever. You’re in it. You still love her.”

“I don’t know her.” It’s true. I love Lizzie. Hate Bette and who the fuck knows where my head’s at right now. Other than the need to be with her again. This wave of possession won’t lift. It keeps crashing into me and knocking me over with all the thoughts. I want to explore all the places on her body and in her life that have filled out.

Claire who is waiting for a better answer. “I’m not in love with her.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been annoyed by her for five years and full-on fighting with her for the last two. And were hopelessly in love with her a decade ago. And what about those flirty texts you were having a couple of weeks ago?”

I lift my wine and speak over the top before taking a sip. “You know too much.”

“I know just enough, and I’m an expert at this and Danson men.”

“I’m not one of them.” My voice is harsher than I intend.

“His name doesn’t make you him.”

“It doesn’t fucking help.”