The Revenge Games Duet

“Emerson and I were engaged,” Wesley adds with too much enjoyment. “A great woman.”

Wait, Emerson is a great woman. Yes, she is.

But what the hell was that?

I feel my blood begin to boil, a raging fire threatening to burn any of my sensibility. I’m not dumb, aware this is some childish game to goad a reaction from me, but the temptation to bite back is too great to ignore.

“Engaged to Emerson. Your boss, Emerson?” Liam asks, confused.

“They were engaged, but Wesley screwed up, and now they’re not.” I dig into my chicken, trying to control my anger. “So, what do you need tonight, anyway? The contracts are signed, and there’s nothing left to do.”

“Milana, you sound agitated. Did I say or do something?”

I turn to face him, composing my jealousy as he gazes back with an irritating grin. The color of his eyes soften, if only for a moment, or perhaps that’s what I want to see.

You don’t know what you want.

“So, Liam, are you Milana’s boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Liam answers, placing his arm around my chair, the same time I say, “No.”

Liam diverts his attention to me.

Shit, I don’t know what overcame me. The panic. Blame the panic.

“Well, which one is it?” Wesley questions, leaning back and watching the two of us.

“We dated back home. Liam surprised me today. It seems it’s a day of surprises.”

“You guys have been together forever, you’re practically married,” Flynn blurts out, again, oblivious to the sound of Wesley’s teeth practically grinding from rage. “So, Liam, you moving out here?”

“Not my kinda place.”

“So, what is your kinda place? Hay, barn, cows greeting you in the morning while you milk them?” Wesley mocks, much to Liam’s and my annoyance.

“Just don’t like this plastic lifestyle. Money-hungry creeps.”

“Money-hungry creeps?” Wesley laughs, arrogantly. “Driven, smart people making a living.”

Liam throws his napkin onto the table. “Yeah, that and dumbass actors.”

“Okay, stop, the both of you. Who wants fortune cookies?” I wave Mrs. Ling over with desperation. She carries over a tray of cookies, and the moment the tray is in front of me, my grabby hands crack one open hoping for a miracle.

Choose wisely. Your happiness depends on it.

I look over at Mrs. Ling. She purposely turns away, dusting a shelf and ignoring the fact that she slipped that into mine. You don’t tamper with fortune, Mrs. Ling! I yell, internally.

“Let’s get outta here. Where you staying, man?” Flynn asks Liam.

“This place… not far from here.”

“Why don’t you just crash at our place?”

“Sure. Is that okay, Milly?”

This is getting worse by the second. There is rock, a pile of shit, then me.

Why is Flynn suggesting that in front of Wesley? How can my brother be that stupid?