Until April (Until Her 6)

“April?” she asks, looking directly at me, and Maxim gets even closer to me.

“Yes.” I wait, praying she isn’t one of the people still sending me ridiculous emails and messages on social media.

“I thought that was you.” She smiles sweetly, then holds out her hand. “It’s me, Vanessa.” She looks around my table, seeming suddenly uncomfortable when I don’t react to her name. “We met a couple of times years ago. I’m Brock’s fiancée.” She twitches her fingers, the stone in her ring glittering brightly.

“Vanessa.” I shake her hand, having a difficult time placing her. But during the time that I was with Cohen, there was always a sea of women hanging around him and the band, and Brock tended to have a different girlfriend every week.

“You don’t remember me?” She laughs. “I get it. I just wanted to come over to say hi.”

“Sorry, that time in my life is a little bit of a blur,” I reply as our waitress comes over, probably to take our dinner orders.

“That’s understandable. When you’re around the guys, things always seem to blur.” She smiles, then shifts on her feet. “Well…” She looks at the waitress. “I’ll let you get back to your dinner. It was nice seeing you again.”

“You too.” I watch her walk away, then turn back to the table.

“Who’s Brock?” Melanie questions, catching my eye.

“The brother of a guy I used to see,” I tell her, and she gives me an “Aw, I understand” look, then focuses on the waitress. After we give our orders, Maxim’s hand touches my lower back, and I turn to him.

“I gotta make a call.” He stands, then looks at his sister. “Please try not to tell her anything that is going to cause her to run.”

“If she runs, that’s on you, my friend.” She gives him a smug look, and I hide my smile behind my glass when he sighs. With him gone, she raises a brow at me. “So tell me honestly—do you have an issue with the fact that he owns a strip club?”

“No, not even a little.” I take another sip of my drink, and she finishes off hers, then notice Maxim standing near the bar, talking on the phone, oblivious to the woman sitting a few feet away with her friend, her eyes on him. Her friend obviously encouraging her to make a move and talk to him.

“Would you like another?” our waitress asks, coming over, and I pull my attention off him, feeling oddly relieved.

“Yes, please.” Melanie looks at my drink. “She’ll have another one too, and we’ll have two shots of tequila.”

“Great, be right back.” She smiles, then takes off.

“Tequila?” I raise a brow at her, and she shrugs.

“I don’t have work tomorrow, and it’s my first real day off in two months.”

“I guess we’re drinking tequila tonight, then.” I laugh, then push back from the table and stand. “Before that though, I’m going to go use the restroom.”

“I’ll be here,” she says, and I head across the room. When I reach the restroom, a couple of girls are inside, so I wait until one of the stalls is free. When I’m finished I come out to wash my hands, and a redhead that was at the table with Vanessa is at the sink, leaning in and fixing her lipstick. Her eyes come to me in the mirror, and there is something about the look in her gaze that puts me on guard.

“With all the talk about you, I thought you’d be—” Her eyes roam over me. “—hotter.”

“Did you?” I raise a brow. “It’s the boobs, right?” I look down at my chest, which is half the size of hers. “I knew I should have gotten a boob job.”

“That wouldn’t help. You’re so—” Her lip curls. “Plain.”

“Ouch.” I shake off my hands over the sink, then grab a paper towel and lean with my hip against the edge of the counter. “Anything else you wanna tell me before I take off?” I ask, taking pleasure in the fact that me not feeding into her is obviously pissing her off, judging by the way her cheeks are starting to darken.

“Cohen doesn’t love you.” She makes a kiss face to her reflection, then puts the cap on her lipstick and places it in her bag. “This whole thing with you and the album is just a publicity stunt.”

That wouldn’t even surprise me a little. Still, it annoys me that she assumes her statement would bother me. “How long have you been sleeping with him?”

“Pardon?”

“With Cohen, how long have you been sleeping with him? That’s why you’re doing this, right? Because you think I’m actually going to go running back to him and you’re going to get left behind?”

“He loves me.” She rolls her eyes.

“I hope for your sake that’s true, because the Cohen I knew only ever loved himself, so a word of advice?” I toss my paper towel in the trash. “Run while you can and save yourself the hurt you’re going to feel when he lets you down.”