Wright that Got Away (Wright)

I was waist deep in alcohol when I heard a voice call, “Is that Campbell Abbey?”

Cosmere was in a private booth in a VIP section of the nightclub. No one could get over here unless they were also of celebrity status. And even to my addled brain, I knew that voice.

I caught sight of the long, dark hair and her signature pout. “Nini Verona.”

“It is you!”

Viv coughed loudly. Yorke put his hand on my shoulder.

Santi said, “Uh, man…”

I laughed at them, shrugging off Yorke’s hand. “It’s fine.”

They all looked at me like it was not fine. But they didn’t realize that I had no interest in the likes of Nini. Yes, we’d had a brief fling before the tour at the end of last year, but it hadn’t been anything. And it wasn’t anything now.

She crossed into our booth and pulled me into a quick hug. “I heard you were back in LA.”

“Yeah? Who hasn’t with all my fucking press?” I grumbled.

She laughed. I’d almost forgotten that her laugh tinkled like a chime. She leaned her hip into a column next to the booth, accentuating her curves in her plastered-on black dress. “Well, good thing I’m here now.”

“Nini,” Santi said with a sigh.

“I’d say it’s good to see you,” Viv said with an arched eyebrow, “but you have shit timing.”

She blew Viv a kiss. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“We are in crisis mode.”

“I’m not in a crisis,” I slurred.

“I’ve heard the rumors,” Nini admitted. “I just got in from New York for an Cunningham Couture event. Didn’t guess I’d see you.”

“Take a seat.”

Viv’s eyes widened. “If you’re photographed together, Campbell…”

“I know. I know.” I waved her off.

Nini took the seat and asked for a vodka water with a splash of lime. “So, does this mean you’re single?”

I cringed at the words. My brain was fuzzy, but I wasn’t stupid. “God, I fucking hope not.”

Nini pouted slightly. “Too bad.”

“As if we would have ever worked. You were too obsessed with your New York boarding school friends.”

Nini was old, old upper-crust money on her mother’s side and super fucking rich from rumored Mafia money on her dad’s side. She was the perfect mix of Upper East Side princess and Italian heiress. I’d found out quick that her real life was sort of terrifying in its intensity.

“True,” she admitted. “And this Blaire? She makes you happy?”

I nodded. “I’m in love with her.”

Nini took her drink from the bartender and sipped it absentmindedly. Or seemingly at least. I’d never seen her do anything absentminded. She had a quick mind and a ruthless edge. People thought she was just a pretty face, but she was sharp as a razor’s edge.

“Then, what are you doing here?”

“She doesn’t want to see me.”

“What girl wouldn’t want to see you?”

“Blaire. I fucked it up.”

Nini shot me a look. “Did you fuck it up, or is this just your life?”

I shrugged. I didn’t want to think about that right now. I wanted to get shit-faced and not think. Because, yes, obviously, this was my life. It was always going to be difficult for someone who was outside of the circle to integrate into it. Much harder when I had a troop of people who snooped for clues. Which was how they’d discovered the abortion in Blaire’s medical history. Someone should probably be fired for that shit.

But just because it was hard didn’t make it impossible. I didn’t want Blaire to have to deal with this shit. I wanted it to be easy and uncomplicated, like it had been these past months in Lubbock.

Except my life was in both Lubbock and LA. I couldn’t change that. And Michael had proven how hard it was to have it all to begin with. What would it be like if she was always back in Lubbock? As she was now.

“More drinks,” I said, deciding to ignore Nini’s question.

“Fine, fine,” Nini said. “It’s not my place. And the reporter was wrong to bring up her past. But we’ve all dealt with that shit before.”

“She’s not one of us though,” I argued.

“No. She’s not.”

“And she doesn’t deserve this shit.”

“And the rest of us do?”

“It doesn’t matter. Blaire is gone. I don’t know what our relationship is. But I do know that I’m madly in love with her, and nothing is going to change that. If you’re staying, Nini, then let’s stop talking and get back to drinking.”

She held her hands up. “I see where your heart is, Campbell Abbey. And I am here for it. I just think if she means that much to you, you should go after her.”

If only that were an option.

There was no rulebook for this. No easy way out.

She needed space. She needed time.

I could give her that if she needed it. But all I would do in the meantime was pine, drink, and write. Sometimes, all at the same time.