Losing It

“She’s in her room.” He brushes his wavy hair behind his ear.

He—

Oh my God.

“Where the fuck did you go last night?” Wes asks.

Griffin’s left hand falls to his side. It’s hard to see the shiny silver band around his ring finger.

But the thick black tattoo that reads Juliette—

That’s clear as day.

It’s right on his forearm.

Holy shit.

Griffin clears his throat. “We got married.”

Chapter Forty-Eight

Quinn

“You what?” Wes stares up at his best friend.

“Yeah.” Griffin tilts his hand to show off his ring. His brow knits with frustration. His lip corners turn down. “I gotta go.”

“No fucking way.” Wes turns to me. “Can you give me an hour?”

I’m not sure an hour is going to cut it. I nod anyway. I need him, yeah, but, right now, his best friend needs him more. “Go.”

“Where’s Jules?” Wes asks.

“Her room,” Griffin says.

God, she must be freaking out.

Or ecstatic.

No, there’s no way she’s happy. Not with him this upset. But then is he upset because he wants to stay married and she doesn’t? Or because he realizes he made a horrible mistake?

I want to know.

God, I want to know.

But it’s so not the time to ask.

And, well, if this is the end for me and Wes…

I’m sure Chloe will fill me in on the dirt. Eventually. Maybe.

“Maybe I should talk to her.” I swim to the edge of the pool. “See how she’s doing?”

“You’re not exactly friends,” Griffin says.

“Jesus Christ, Griff. That’s what you want to say right now?” Wes shakes his head. “Juliette liked you. She’ll appreciate the uh—”

“Bring tea,” Griffin says. “Matcha.”

Shit, I don’t know anything about matcha. Starting with where to get one. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Griffin nods thanks. “She’s in room 2120.”

“Sure.” I follow Wes and Griffin to our stuff.

Wes hugs me goodbye.

The guys separate.

And I go in search of powdered green tea and clarity.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Quinn

“Hello?” Juliette’s voice flows through the door.

“Hey.” I shift my weight between my feet. Suck a breath through my teeth. Pep talks aren’t my strong suit. Advice is worse. I’m barely in control of my life. But I want to help. “I couldn’t find matcha. But I have jasmine green tea.”

“Just you?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She pulls the door open and motions come in.

I step into the hotel room. It’s the same as our room, only with a view of the desert.

Juliette nods a thank you as she takes her tea. She sits on the unmade bed. Crosses one leg over the other.

She’s wearing denim shorts and one of those t-shirts with rings of color around the neck and sleeves. It’s royal blue and light with a Dodgers logo in the middle of the chest. Her hair is in a messy bun. Her face is bare.

She looks like she’s heading to softball practice, not her first day of married life.

But I guess tomboys get married too.

I, uh… “Congratulations.”

“Yeah.” Her gaze shifts to the ring on her left hand. It’s a twisting band with tiny stones. Vintage. Gorgeous. Expensive.

I hide behind my English Breakfast. There’s a lot I want to say, but none of it is helpful. “What happened?”

She groans and falls onto her back. “Tequila.” She reaches her arms over her head. Lets out a yawn that’s equal parts frustration and exhaustion.

“Ah, tequila. I know it well.”

“You don’t seem like the type.”

“Neither do you.”

Her chuckle is more misery than anything.

It’s a lot like Griffin’s. Kind of removed. Like she’s above all the usual bullshit.

“He’s a good guy,” I say.

“He is. The best guy in my life. But… We… this… it’s crazy.”

“You didn’t… ahem?” I motion to the messy bed.

She shakes her head. “You’re safe to sit.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Did you?”

She nods.

“How was it?”

Her sigh is dreamy. “Perfect.” She takes a long sip of her tea. “Too perfect. It’s wrong how perfect it was.”

“He’s good?”

“Yeah.”

“Huge?”

She looks at me funny, like I’m crossing a line. “Is Wes?”

“Yeah.” My cheeks flush. “But then I don’t have a lot to compare to.”

Her smile is soft. “So you finally…”

I nod.

“How was that?”

“It’s wrong, how perfect it was,” I steal her words.

“Good. My first time was… ugh. I’m glad someone’s was good.” She pushes herself up. Pulls the elastic holding her hair. Lets dark strands fall over her eyes. “Thanks for the tea, Quinn, but I…” She pulls her arm over her chest. “Fuck, I don’t know.”

“You mind?” I motion to the bed.

She shakes her head.

I sit next to her. It’s weird, trying to dive into an intimate conversation with someone I barely know.

But it’s good too.

Like I’m capable of connecting with normal human beings.

Well, normalish.

I don’t think any of Wes’s friends are really normal.

“I love Griffin,” she says. “More than anyone. He’s been there since I can remember. But it’s always been…”

“You never thought about him that way?” I ask.

She nods yeah. “And he hasn’t thought about me that way either.”

“Are you sure?” I ask.