Scarlet leans forward. “I couldn’t tell you how many times I used a fake name even if I wanted to. I agree with Quinn here. You’re being dramatic.”
“She blew me off and then lied,” I counter, but I know they’re right. If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t care. But Rory wasn’t just anyone.
Fuck.
“Fine,” Scarlet goes on. “Did she steal your wallet?”
“No.”
“Take cash from your nightstand drawer?”
“I don’t keep cash in there.”
“That’s smart.” Scarlet adds sugar to her tea. “Did she try on your expensive Rolex and ‘forget’ to take it off? Write down your credit card numbers? Leave with an expensive Gucci purse?”
Weston looks at his wife. “You’re speaking from experience, aren’t you?”
“If I was, would you arrest me?” Scarlet bites her lip and wiggles her eyebrows.
“As soon as Violet goes down for her nap.”
“Ew,” Quinn quips but then turns to me. “See? She didn’t con you or anything. She just gave you a fake name. Not a big deal. So you should call her and see her again.”
“Stop,” I say harshly. Letting out a breath, I rub my forehead. I enjoyed last night. The sex was fucking great, but it was more than that, and I don’t want to go down that path. Not now, not ever.
Things were ugly after the divorce, as they always are, I suppose. I had to pick up the broken pieces of my heart and rebuild everything I’d worked so hard for.
Our home.
Our shared friends.
Eastwood is a small town. It took effort to avoid Kara at first. She was a teacher at the school Jackson attends, but then she took a transfer and works in Newport, still close enough to run into, but the daily risk of seeing her was gone.
I blink and it’s like I’m right back there, standing in the hallway looking into our bedroom. I’d never been more pissed in my whole life, and it was a kind of anger I’d never experienced before. It took over my whole body, twisting my mind and darkening my heart.
I couldn’t think straight. Hell, I don’t even remember exactly what transpired that night.
There was lots of yelling.
Swearing.
Punches were thrown.
Kara ran after me, crying.
And then I ended up at Quinn and Archer’s house, sitting on their porch until they came home from dinner. Things passed in a blur the next few days, and I’ve never been happier to have a lawyer in the family. Charlie handled everything, and while I wanted to make Kara hurt at first, I just wanted everything to be over.
The betrayal hurt like a hot knife to my heart, and my entire life had to be rebuilt. We might not have been the happiest couple, but we had a routine.
A house.
A life.
I’ve rebuilt it all and am pretty damn happy with what I have.
“I got her number,” Quinn says, trying to be casual as she spreads butter on her pancake. “I can text it to you if you want.”
“I already have it,” I grumble.
Quinn’s eyes light up. “So you must like her! You asked for her number.”
“No, she texted me an hour before we were supposed to go out to say she wasn’t going to make it.”
Quinn takes a bite of her pancake and makes a face.
“Something wrong?” I ask.
“It tastes funny. But anyway, if you like her, call her. Go out again. And she didn’t think you were a loser. She said it was the way Hilary described you.”
“That doesn’t make it any better. And it’s not her fault, it’s yours.” I point to her and Archer.
“Hey,” Archer says, catching Emma’s cup of milk a second before it spills. “Sit still,” he says through gritted teeth. Emma has been up and down ten times already and knocked Arya’s water over twice. Thankfully the cup had a lid on it. “I wouldn’t describe you as a loser and then ask if someone who works with me wants to go out with you.”
“Then you weren’t being honest,” Weston deadpans. “Because I don’t know how else you’d describe him.”
“Hah,” I say dryly. “Quinn, I know you mean well, but stop, okay? I don’t want to date anyone.”
“But you seemed to like her,” Quinn goes on, furthering my annoyance.
“We had fun.” My mind flashes back to her perfect tits. To how good it felt to be inside her. To have a meaningful conversation with her as well as talk about the most random things and have it feel completely normal…to hear her laugh. Fuck. “Several times.”
“But you took her out to breakfast because you wanted to spend more time with her, right?”
Quinn is right. Waking up next to Blaire—I mean, Rory—felt good. We didn’t just hook up, but we got along.
We clicked.
And I don’t remember the last time I felt like I clicked with someone like that.
“Help me out,” I say to Weston. “Tell her to shove off.”