“Well, no… But…we aren’t even nice to each other.”
Scarlett sipped her wine, looking at me over the brim. “Being nice isn’t a requirement for good sex.”
“I know. But…”
Ever since the moment Scarlett figured out what was going on, the smile hadn’t left her face. Until now.
She set her drink on the coffee table and shook her head. “You’re growing feelings for him, aren’t you?”
I shook my head. “No… Definitely not… I mean, I don’t know.”
Scarlett sighed. “It would be easier if you could keep feelings out of it.”
I nodded. “Trust me, I’ve tried. And it started out that way. I didn’t like him the slightest bit when this first started—well, that’s not true. I might’ve liked some parts of him. But it was purely physical. Every time we argued, we’d wind up having pissed-off sex. He’s the absolute last person I’d ever pick to go out with. Aside from the fact that we’re competitors and our families have been at war for a half century, he’s a playboy, arrogant, not exactly stable, and has more emotional baggage than I do.”
“Well, you’ve spent the last ten years picking men you thought would be good for you. How did that turn out?”
I made a disapproving face. “Thanks.”
“As much as you thought Liam checked all of your required boxes, I always thought he was a selfish slug. Whenever we all went out together, it was on his timeline and to a place he liked. He never seemed to ask what you wanted. We’ve never discussed your sex life, but I would venture to guess he wasn’t generous in that arena either.”
She wasn’t wrong. Toward the end, it had been a special occasion if Liam put in more than three minutes of foreplay. And him giving me oral sex was essentially a birthday or Valentine’s Day gift, even though he knew my orgasms from that were incomparable to any other. I worked weekdays. He worked weekends. Yet the only time we ever went out late was on the days he didn’t have to get up, even though I did.
“I’ve definitely noticed that Weston is more attentive sexually. He pays attention and figures out what works for me. Liam had his little routine, and it worked for him—sometimes it worked for me, too. But I can chalk that up to experience. I haven’t asked for a headcount, but I’m certain Weston has been with more women than Liam.”
Scarlett pointed to my drink. “How is that with the diet cranberry?”
“It’s great. You don’t even taste the difference.” I held the glass to her. “You want to try it?”
Scarlett tilted her head. “Did Liam ever stock his fridge with what you liked?”
I knew what she was getting at. “That was very thoughtful of Weston. But…”
“Listen, Soph. I don’t know this man from Adam, so I could be totally off base. But I get the feeling that if you really think about it, you’ll see there’s more to it than just Weston ordering diet cranberry juice and making sure you finish first. And the same goes for Liam. If you think back, I have no doubt you’ll see you were second on his priority list. Liam was always number one.”
Chapter 15
* * *
Sophia
Oh no. Nothing good could come from this pairing.
The next morning I walked over to the seating area off the lobby, where Weston and Scarlett were having coffee and laughing.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Scarlett sipped from her mug through her grin.
“This is late for you,” Weston chimed in. His eyes gleamed. “Must’ve been worn out last night.”
“What are you two doing?”
Scarlett feigned an innocent face. “Having coffee. What does it look like we’re doing?”
I rolled my eyes. “I need coffee to handle you two at the same time. Be right back.”
“I’ll take another caffè macchiato with one pump of vanilla, please.” Scarlett held up her mug.
Weston shrugged. “I’ll take a tall, black coffee.”
I squinted. “Not that I asked…”
I heard them chuckle as I walked away.
After a long wait in line, I put all three drinks on a plastic serving tray and walked back to where Weston and Scarlett were still looking cozy.
“What are you two talking about?” I handed Scarlett her coffee and then Weston. “You look like you’re enjoying yourselves a little too much.”
“I asked Weston if he knew of any good clubs nearby. We need to go out dancing. He told me about a place a few blocks away that’s become a celebrity hangout.”
“Oh really? I didn’t realize Weston was a club hopper.”
He sipped his coffee. “I’m not. Not anymore, anyway. Church is owned by one of my buddies from grad school. He built it in a closed-down cathedral. It’s all he posts about on social media.”
“Wes is going to get us in, so we don’t have to wait in line.”
“Wes?”
Weston grinned. “It’s what my friends call me. Maybe someday you’ll get around to calling me that, huh, Fifi?”