The Devil Wears Black

“Katie,” I finished for her. “Katie told me. I mentioned I might spend my birthday weekend in Florida with Grant. She told me I wouldn’t want to do that, then revealed your plan.”

By the look on Madison’s face, I knew the penny had dropped. Caught in an emotional tornado at the restaurant the other day, Mad had forgotten she’d told Katie about the birthday surprise prior to waiting in my apartment. So at the restaurant, she recited her story about the cheating bastard she caught, but she wasn’t privy to the fact Katie had told me about Madison waiting for me in lingerie in my bed.

And she forgot she herself had informed Katie she’d be waiting for me in my bedroom.

Katie wasn’t stupid. She’d done the math but hadn’t said anything. At least one person in my family already knew what Julian was dying to uncover—I’d fucked up.

“And you brought her home so I’d catch you.” Mad’s nostrils flared.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted you to see.”

“Why?”

“Because things were getting too real too fast, and I don’t do real, Madison. I think we both know I don’t do fast either.” I glared at the couple next to us pointedly. The guy blushed. Really? Now I didn’t even care his girl was judging me. She was sentenced to a life with a prematurely ejaculating husband.

“My life will not be disturbed by senseless, messy emotions.” I was mansplaining now. I needed to shut up.

“Okay, RoboCop,” the woman beside us mumbled.

“You could’ve talked to me,” Mad said.

“From experience, women don’t get the message. They say they’ll take it slow, but that just means biding their time. And no offense, but you are the most wedding-obsessed woman I’ve ever met. You design wedding dresses for a living, and between your apartment and office, you have enough flowers to put Holland out of business.”

“You could’ve broken up with me.” Mad’s voice cracked midsentence. She wasn’t wrong, and I hated when she wasn’t wrong. I’d taken the coward’s way out.

“I figured you’d get the message, get mad, then reappear in the form of a fuck buddy.”

“Wow. For a smart person, you’re really dumb.” She sighed. In her defense, her face was full of awe rather than disdain.

“I concur.” The woman beside us lifted her arm. “Super dumb move.”

“Thanks for the input. I was anxious to know what a complete fucking stranger makes of my character.” I threw her a polite smile before turning my gaze back to Madison and gathering her palms in mine. “I can’t promise you forever, but I can promise you right now, and it’s more than I’ve ever offered a woman before.”

“Well, I appreciate your twisted, bizarre, backward-logic truth,” Madison said, plucking her hands from mine and smoothing her dress over her thighs. “But even if you haven’t cheated on me, the fact is you still hurt me. The answer is no.”

“I figured you’d say this. Hence why I came here to buy Ethan and me flowers.” I motioned around the flower shop like she didn’t know where we were. It was not my brightest move, but the success of my plan was in jeopardy. “You know your flowers, right? I’m going to get an identical plant for both Ethan and me. The one that’s most difficult to keep alive indoors—your pick. If Ethan really is Mr. Perfect and I’m such a shitbag, surely he can show his commitment by keeping the plant alive.”

She blinked at me. “Not following your logic.”

“The jasmines.” I worked hard on not baring my teeth like an animal. “You said you care when flowers die, right? Gave me a whole goddamn speech about it, if I recall correctly. You’re obsessed with flowers and keeping them alive.” I took a breath, realizing that she associated the flowers at her desk with her mother, and her mother was dead, and flowers really meant a whole fucking lot to her. “You’re rabid about the subject.”

“You’re really selling this grand gesture to me.” Madison scrunched her forehead. “But can you turn the asshole in you down a notch while explaining this so I can see past the fog of wanting to punch you in the face? Thank you.”

I suppressed a smile. Real Maddie really was much better than the light, fat-free, gluten-free version who’d entered my life some months ago. Yeah, she was a do-gooder, but she was no pushover, I’d learned.

“You said you care about plants. That how people take care of them is a testament of their character. Well, I think Ethan doesn’t care. Not enough. Not about you, at least. Not as much as me.”

There was silence. When I looked up from her face, I noticed that the entire store was watching us, not just that thirtysomething couple. We’d had a very vocal argument, consisting of my (not so) cheating past and a declaration of intent, and now people knew there was another man in the game. I was one plastic surgery and nude scandal away from being a guest on The Real Housewives of Whereverthefuck.