I always thought “when you know, you know” was utter bullshit, but if I’m not in love, then I’ve lost my damn mind. Actually, it might be both things.
I glance over as a man drops onto the stool beside me—pitch-black hair, blue eyes, square-jawed motherfucker. Nice of this asshole to show half an hour after he was supposed to be here.
“You’re late,” I inform him, unkindly.
Unconcerned with wasting my time, he says, “I’m sure you found a way to pass the time.”
“I hope you cheat on Willow one of these days so I can fucking kill you,” I mutter, taking a sip of my scotch.
His dark eyebrows draw together and he scowls at me. “That’s not very nice.”
“I strike you as a nice guy?”
“Well, no.” Glancing away from me, he signals the bartender and orders himself some whiskey. As the bartender turns away to fill his glass, Ethan adds, “I hate to break your heart, but that’s not going to happen. You’re stuck with me and I’m stuck with you.” Reaching into the bag he discarded on the ground, he adds, “Speaking of, here you go.”
I glance at the folder he slides across the bar top, but I don’t open it. I glance over at this motherfucker, watching him thank the bartender, smiling like a Boy Scout.
Once the bartender walks away his smile falls, and he faces me again. “Turns out you were right about the husband being a sketchy asshole and lying about his income, just wrong about the reason. He’s been saying he’s working more than he actually is. Can you guess why?”
I roll my eyes. “Cheating piece of shit?”
“Bingo.” Ethan nods, grabbing his whiskey and tipping it back.
“Should’ve given him pointers on how to be a slimy asshole. Oh wait, you got caught, too.”
Glaring at me, Ethan asks, “Is there a reason you have such a hard-on for me tonight?”
Ethan makes me think of my dad, and unluckily for Ethan, tonight my dad really pisses me off. He’s the single biggest obstacle in the way of me having Francesca. “I just don’t like assholes like you. Or you, period.”
“Well, I don’t like being generalized as the kind of asshole you’re painting me as right now. I’m good to your sister. I’m doing this shit for you, even though you know I don’t like it. I don’t know what more you want from me.”
“Have you ever fallen in love fast?” I throw back the rest of my scotch, signaling the bartender.
Frowning like he doesn’t understand the question, or probably more specifically why I’m asking it, he says, “No, not really. I’m not the ‘fall hard and fast’ type.”
“You didn’t fall for Willow right away?”
“Definitely not. Regardless of what you want to believe about me, I didn’t want to have feelings for your sister. I was trying to be a good guy; it just snuck up on me.”
“What about the other one, the wife?”
“My ex-wife? No, I didn’t fall in love fast then, either. Why?”
The bartender approaches and even though I should probably stop, I order myself another. I’ve been drinking fast while I waited for Ethan to show, so I’m already feeling it.
“Is that why you’re in such a shitty mood?” Ethan finally asks, once the bartender has walked away again. “You meet a woman or something?”
“Something like that.”
“She doesn’t like you?”
“No, she likes me, she just… she shouldn’t. I shouldn’t like her. It was a bad idea to meet her, but now it’s done and I have to figure out how the hell it’s going to work.”
“Is she married?”
Scowling thunderously, I say, “No, she’s not fuckin’ married. Why would you say that?”
“You’re coming down hard on the cheaters of the world tonight, I thought maybe…”
“No. She’s just not someone I should be involved with.”
“A cop?” he guesses.
Laughing shortly, I say, “That’s about the only way this could be worse. No, she’s definitely not a cop.”
Grimacing, he asks, “Is she young?”
I give him another sound glare. “I’m not a fucking cradle-robber. Stop projecting your bullshit onto me.”
“Jesus Christ. I’m not either. If you’re going to be an asshole, I’m going home. I’d rather spend my night babysitting your sister than sitting here with you.”
I don’t say anything. If he wants to leave, he can go. All I needed from him was this folder; our business here is concluded.
He doesn’t, though. I don’t know why. I would. I’m always an asshole to this guy.
“What’s her name?” he asks, after a minute’s passed in silence.
“Francesca.” I guess I can say that much. She’s not the only Francesca in the world, and I already know Ethan doesn’t like to get involved in this shit, so there’s not much chance he’d ever get dragged into Morelli’s path. He loathes my father, so there’s even less chance he’d ever tell him.
“So, what’s the problem? If you like her and she likes you and you’re both unattached, why can’t you be together? Sounds simple enough.”