“How was the honeymoon?” I ask, shaking his hand as well. I don’t even attempt to touch the man’s wife.
“It was lovely,” Hayden says, her eyes beaming as she looks up at her husband, both of her arms wrapped around his.
“I thought I heard your voice!” Hayden squeals as she runs down the hall and into her friend’s arms.
Hayden hugs her friend, and a look of pure confusion draws her brows in when they separate.
“Parker? What are you doing here?”
I take a step back as Jude walks closer, a wide grin on his face. He and Quinten do that handshake, back-clap thing all guys do. They’re best friends, have been forever, but it’s clear the couples haven’t spoken since the wedding.
The girls have no damn clue what has happened in the last week.
Instead of using words to explain, Jude steps up behind Parker and presses his lips to her throat. A slow smile spreads across Hayden’s face. “Really?”
Parker grins before nodding.
“Like for real?”
Parker nods more, and then they’re squealing again.
“Too much estrogen,” Finnegan mutters before walking out of the room.
“I think it’s kind of sweet,” Kit says, his voice a little dreamy.
“Not all best friends are happy when their friends get into relationships,” Brooks says, his voice marked with bitterness as he walks away. There goes the good mood he was in.
“We have so much to talk about,” Hayden says. “You should come to the condo.”
Quinten leans in close, his lips brushing her ear as he speaks.
Her cheeks turn pink, and they get redder the longer he whispers in her ear. Her face is flaming by the time he pulls his mouth away.
“Maybe tomorrow. I’ll call you,” Hayden says, her voice low and a little hoarse.
Jude chuckles before shaking Quinten’s hand again.
Parker smiles, knowing or at least assuming what Quinten just said to Hayden.
The newlyweds turn around and head straight to the elevator. I don’t know what was said, but it was distracting enough to make Quinten forget that he came to the office to get something.
“What’s that?” I ask, noticing the black leather bag in Jude’s hand.
Like a child getting caught with something he’s not supposed to have, Jude shifts it so it’s further behind his back.
“Nothing.”
“I think they’re planning to play doctor,” Flynn says, his British accent making it sound even dirtier.
Jude’s mouth hangs open in shock. Parker shrugs. The two make such an oddly perfect pair.
“Don’t you have a teenager to get home to, old man?”
Flynn narrows his eyes. “Remington is twenty-one, you arsehole.”
Parker leans in, her mouth to Jude’s ear much the same way Quinten did to Hayden, and it only takes a minute before those two are walking quickly to the elevator.
“Where are you going?” I ask Flynn when he heads that way shortly after.
“My girl is home alone,” he says with a smile.
“Those lucky, fucks,” Kit mutters, making me realize that we’re the only two left standing in the middle of the room.
Chapter 20
Leighton
I’m antsy, bored, tired of sitting in my hotel room. I did it all damn day yesterday. I should be touring the city, taking in the sights, doing anything but staring at mindless television and thinking about him.
It’s Sunday, the day of rest, but every muscle in my body is telling me to get up and move. I haven’t been to the gym all damn week. I’m out of my routine, haven’t been on the elliptical since catching my dad with Margaret, haven’t felt an ache in my muscles since waking up Friday morning, and that pain had nothing to do with traditional exercise.
I climb off the bed, needing to move around, to do something to release all of this pent-up energy.
I get dressed, pulling on leggings and a loose t-shirt. I know I can do all of my work sitting comfortably on the hotel bed, but I need a change of scenery or I’m going to go mad. I order an Uber, and head to the lobby. Deacon offered office space at BBS, providing the elevator code and access to the building in my contract, and seeing as it’s Sunday, it’s very unlikely that I’ll encounter a soul there today.
The drive over is slow, traffic heavy for midday, but I’m in no rush. I’m not as nervous as I was the second time I arrived. If anything, I’m a little excited, a little hopeful at the prospect of running into him even though the chances are slim. There hasn’t been any contact, not a text or call, not even a business email sent in my direction from him.
Complete silence.
And I don’t know if I should read anything into that.
I don’t know if he left the ball in my court with his there’s my girl.
Hell, I don’t even know if there is even a ball in play at this point.
I stood in my hotel room with my jaw practically on the floor when he told me he wasn’t married and didn’t have kids. Slapping him was a visceral reaction. At the time, all I heard were his conceited words about how he thought I was practically in love with him. Yeah, the sex was good, but hell, in love? Get a fucking grip. It took minutes, maybe hours for all of it to sink in, for me to understand that he didn’t betray anyone. It didn’t get rid of all the anger. I had cried too many tears for me to just smile and be okay with what had happened between us. I had felt too guilty for too long to just be okay with his lies, but by the time I went to bed Friday night with a wine buzz, despite my tequila hangover, I was mildly better. At least I didn’t hate myself any longer. I didn’t want to throw myself in front of a train as an apology to all women for being a horny slut who willingly slept with a married man because he’s charming and good at laying pipe.