Scandalous (Sinners of Saint 3)

But they didn’t.

The buzz from that kiss still gripped every part of my body. I felt it on my swollen, stung lips. They throbbed, hummed, became alive. Almost like an entity separate from my body.

Rosie leaned across the table toward me when she spotted Emilia and Melody walking in our direction with bottles of wine. I knew I wouldn’t be offered a glass and that alone made me remember just how inferior I was to those people, solely because of my age. “What’s going on with you and Trent? He always struck me as mysterious and quiet, but also kind of dangerous.” Rosie wiggled her brows.

“Does Emilia know him well?” I asked, partly to evade the question, but mostly because I was eager to find out more about him. Rosie shook her head, shooting me a look that told me that I was not off the hook.

“I doubt anyone knows him well, his best friends included.”

“Knows who?” Emilia sat next to me, squeezing my shoulder and smiling at me. “Thank you for joining us today, Edie. Luna really loves you, and I enjoy seeing her shine.”

God, she was perfect, even in her vintage baby blue Alice in Wonderland dress and yellow cardigan. No wonder Vicious was so infatuated with her.

“We were talking about Trent. Surprising, right?” Rosie kissed her son’s blond head, and he stirred awake, immediately reaching for her breasts.

“Like father, like son.” Rosie rolled her eyes, popping one boob out by lifting most of her shirt. I looked the other way, knowing it was perfectly normal—a mother feeding her infant like nature intended—but I still felt like a stupid, immature teenager.

“What about Trent?” Mel chimed in, sitting at the table with us. Luna was on the other side of the garden with him, and suddenly, this felt a lot like suburbia’s answer to Sex and the City. Mel cracked open a bottle of wine and poured two glasses, one for her, and one for Millie.

“Bitch, you’re breastfeeding.” Rosie frowned, and when Millie arched an eyebrow, she added, “What? Lev doesn’t understand a word yet. I’ll get rid of my bad mouth by the time he hits one.”

“As if.” Mel rolled her eyes, taking a generous sip of wine. She, too, had little Bailey, who was even younger than Lev. “I’m pumping and throwing it away. Bailey is mostly on formula. The nurse said she doesn’t know how to latch well, which is weird, considering her daddy has no problem in that department.”

“Thanks, Gross Central.” Rosie smirked.

“So what about Trent?” Mel repeated. “I tried to fix him up with a friend of mine. He is hopeless. He screwed the date up on purpose.”

Flutters. Butterflies. Smile fighting to sneak in. I knew it.

“He didn’t want to go on that date,” Emilia said in his defense. “I think it’s because of Val. He’s never been in a relationship before, and I think what happened with her made him give up on the idea. Which is sad.”

Mel arched an eyebrow, topping off her glass of wine and shrugging. “She could always come back.”

“Fat chance.” Rosie snorted.

“I hope she does. Luna needs a mother,” Emilia muttered.

“If she does, I bet he will never let her go. He should have given her a fair chance when she told him she was pregnant. Jaime said he still beats himself up about it sometimes. While he’s always been a good dad, Trent never gave Val a chance to be more than Luna’s mother. I’m not saying I understand her, or sympathize with what she did, but if she does come back, I think he might actually try to make it work with her. Does that make sense?” Melody explained in her no-nonsense, approachable tone.

“No,” Rosie deadpanned, rearranging Lev’s head on her arms as he sucked on her tit hungrily.

“I second that, my sister.” Emilia took a small sip of wine. “Trent is rightfully angry.”

“And hurt,” Rosie added.

“More reason to wait for the woman who rocked his world to come back and collect the pieces with her.” Mel poured herself a third glass of wine.

I tried to tell myself that she was drunk, and wrong, and absolutely out of line. But deep down, she touched on my biggest fears. She was his teacher in high school. She knew him. Probably more than anyone at that table, myself included.

I spent the rest of my time wishing I was far away, with Theo, where boys were never an issue. My lips were still burning with mine and Trent’s kiss so I picked an ice cube from my virgin lemonade and pressed it against them, trying to think clearly.

Trent Rexroth wasn’t a crush. He was the very thing that’d end up crushing me if I wasn’t careful.

People often have flairs for dramatics. That’s why I never believe it when someone tells me they knew something bad was about to happen even before it did. I stood corrected the minute I opened the door to my house on Saturday night, because the bad feeling gripped me by the bones. Calamity, as it turned out, had a scent. It smelled of faint, expensive alcohol, a stale cigarette, and Chanel No. 5.