The blond makes an aww, poor girl face.
Okay, I'm Joel's sister apparently. And I'm forgetting some bitch. Oh—
"I know you wanted to marry her. But she never deserved you." He calls out to the bartender. "Two shots of whiskey."
"How about I get those?" The blond moves over. She offers me a look of solidarity. "My ex didn't even have the decency to get a hotel room. I caught him with his secretary."
I nod at her. What can I say about my fictional lesbian ex? My gaze drifts back to Ethan. He and Mal are watching us. Ethan looks charmed. Mal looks slightly irritated.
I'm supposed to be selling this story…
Uh…
The blond introduces herself to Joel.
Then he's introducing me and telling her an incredibly detailed, sordid story about my bitch of a cheating ex-girlfriend.
But I'm not paying attention to Joel's words. My eyes are locked with Ethan's and the way he's smiling is melting every bit of sense in my heart.
"Excuse me, ladies room," I say.
"You're not calling her, are you?" Joel asks, still in character.
"Of course not." I ignore my whiskey shot and spin on my heels.
"You sure you're okay, Violet?" Joel's breaking character.
"I will be." Maybe. One day. I walk away before anyone else can ask about it.
The women's bathroom is right around the corner. It's a small, two-stall restroom and it's mercifully empty. I catch my reflection as I pace. The dark makeup does wonders to hide my anxiety.
Okay, I'm not calling my fictional ex. I'm not calling my real ex, either. But I am calling Athena.
She answers right away. "You are alive."
"I'm sorry I've been ignoring you," I mumble.
"Mhmm."
"I'll do the dishes for a week."
Her voice brightens. "I'm listening."
"How is everything at home?"
She makes a noise that means terrible. "You know my sister. She borrowed my dress, I got pissed, all of a sudden we're calling each other names. It wasn't about the dress but… I'm back in the apartment."
"You want to talk about it?"
"Sweetie, I know you didn't call me after four days of radio silence to ask me about my sister." Athena's voice is a mix of take-no-shit and caring. "What happened?"
I run my fingertip over the back of my phone. "That's a complicated question."
"That's a bullshit answer." She clears her throat. "If you don't want to talk, I have books to read. Smutty books."
"Promise you won't be mad I haven't told you this yet."
Her voice takes on a serious tone. "I don't make promises I can't keep."