Making Up (Shacking Up 4)

“Better that Griffin has a gorgeous, pregnant ex-fiancée, as opposed to what?”

“As opposed to you getting all starry-eyed over him, and then he dumps you when he goes back to New York or wherever for some pencil skirt–wearing tightass who thinks diamonds make the world go around.”

“Yeah. So glad I didn’t get starry-eyed over him.” Obviously I’m being sarcastic, since I was totally falling for him.

“See, there’s always a silver lining.” She shifts on the couch and pulls a granola bar from between the cushions. “I was looking for this!”

I’m on my third cooler and realize I already have a headache. What’s worse is that I know it’s Griffin’s fault for all the sparkles and glamour he threw at me, and expensive alcohol. He was so right about the hangover not being as bad as long as I avoid the sugary cheap crap. But since that’s all I can afford, I send Nev out on a shopping trip.

I must be drunk, because I give Nev my wallet and tell her to buy whatever helps with getting over a guy with a baby mama. She’s gone for a while. Long enough that I polish off the last horrible cooler and text her to see if I have enough money to buy a bottle of Cristal.

She texts back to tell me she’ll see what she can do.

I get bored enough that I try her e-cigarette and almost cough up half a lung.

Then I start checking my other messages. It’s a bad idea, obviously, but good decisions don’t get made when drunk. I have a lot from Griffin requesting that I call him, asking if I’m okay, to please understand that he didn’t know about Imogen being pregnant.

She even has a stupid posh name, and I have a weird one that everyone thinks is a joke. I hate her even more now. I toss my phone on the coffee table and watch it light up every few minutes. Mostly it’s Griffin.

I don’t know how long my sister is gone, but it’s definitely a while. When she finally returns, she’s laden down with bags.

“Did you rob a store?” I hold the door open so she doesn’t have to struggle as much.

“I didn’t have to. Why didn’t you tell me you got a new credit card? I think I used it five times and it never got declined.” She has to walk sideways down the hall in order to avoid slamming into the walls.

“What’re you talking about?” I follow after her, suddenly panicked that she’s gone on a shopping spree I can’t afford.

She drops the bags on the counter with a metallic-slash-glass clang and clink, so she can pull my wallet from her back pocket. Flipping it open, she slides a black card out and slaps it on the counter. “This one.”

I pick it up. It looks brand new. And it has my name on it. “I’ve never seen it before.”

She makes a face and then it lights up with excitement. “Maybe he snuck it into your wallet without you knowing. Oh my God. How awesome is that? We should find out the limit, and you can charge a new car to it before he remembers to cancel it.”

“How much did you spend?”

“I’m not really sure.” She pulls out a bottle of Cristal, but the label is a different color than the stuff Griffin usually gets. Still, it has to be expensive.

“I need to cut this up.” I start rooting around in the drawer for a pair of scissors, so Nev does what she deems logical and swipes the card from the counter.

I try to wrestle her to get it back, but I’m drunk and she’s not. I’m forced to give up when she stuffs it down the front of her pants. Also, the intercom buzz goes off, signaling a visitor. “Are you expecting someone?”

“No. Are you?”

“No.”

We have a seven-second stare down before she pushes me out of the way and hightails it down the hall. She slams her palm on the button to let the random stranger in.

“If that’s a psycho killer, it’s on you,” I yell.

“That’s cool. I’m on it.”

An eternity later, there’s a knock at the door. My gut tells me who it is before they even have a chance to knock. I nudge my sister out of the way and press my eye against the peephole. On the other side of the door is Griffin. He’s changed since this morning, replacing his expensive suit with that stupid freaking band shirt from our first date and a pair of jeans. Such a fraud. How stupid does he think I am?

“Cosy? Please let me explain.” He bangs his head against the door a couple of times. His theatrics are epic.

I throw open the door and am completely unprepared to deal with the three-dimensional version of this man. My heart hurts so much, I’m worried I might actually be having some kind of episode. “There is literally nothing to explain, Griffin. You have an ex-fiancée, who you failed to mention. You couldn’t have been broken up for more than a handful of weeks when you asked me out. You took my V-card and acted like it was some big fucking deal when really, you’d already impregnated some worthy opponent with your superior spawn. Does that sum it the fuck up?”