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“For all our sake, please let this one go,” James instructed dryly, though I’d known him long enough to spot the tension in his jaw, the sympathy in his eyes. The man knew this level of betrayal far too keenly.
“Oh, we’re done,” I growled, rubbing my hand over my jawline, tracing the five o’clock shadow that felt a bit more like ten o’clock than it should’ve. “In my damned room, no less.”
“I’m so sorry,” Noel said, the waver in her voice making me feel guilty for yammering on about my first world drama. She certainly took the cake in the competition of shitty exes of the three of us. I shook my head, not wanting her pity, and certainly not deserving her sympathy. It might’ve been morally reprehensible, but Noel’s toxic ex brought her here to us, and her need for protection gave me a new friend I never would’ve admitted I needed. Mostly, she lit James up in a way nobody ever had, and that alone would have earned my stamp of approval. Forget the fact that she was a saint with a heart too damn big for her own good. “But I am. You don’t deserve this. Not any of it.”
Quiet for a long moment, I nodded. “Thanks, Noel.”
“Eat up, champ. Nothing says wallowing like warm cherry croissants, a scoop of vanilla ice cream, fresh coffee, and a good movie.”
“What about the festival?” I asked, although even my ears heard how hollow the words were. The last thing I needed was a crowd of locals asking me where Sarah was.
“We went last year,” she said with a nonchalant shrug before kissing Jameson’s scruffy cheek. “Came. Saw. Conquered. Ate bear claws until they came back up. No need to revisit that particular experience.”
A soft smile accompanied the warmth she planted in my chest, and with a sigh, I stood with her. Jameson followed behind us, his unspoken frustration like a storm cloud in our wake.
“That conference thing. When is that?” he asked softly.
I shrugged, more irritated than anything else. “Might not go this year. Kinda… feels pointless, if I’m honest.”
“Bullshit,” he scoffed. “Don’t let this bitch get in your head, man. Go learn. Isn’t this their big decennial thing—that grant you’ve been babbling about all damn year?”
Sighing, I admitted, “Yeah, the New Leaders’ Grant.”
“Then, you’re fucking going. That bitch took your time, but she doesn’t get your fucking future.”
Reluctantly, I straightened my spine, meeting that intense glower I’d grown up interpreting for everyone around us. When I gave him a nod, Jameson returned it before leading the way to the couch. I just had to keep my head on straight long enough to get there.
THREE
ELORA
“You’re a sadist,” I snarled as my shaking arms finally succumbed, nearly collapsing on my face as I awkwardly lumbered onto my back.
“That may be, but my evil ways have given you a delectable ass, so you’re welcome.”
“Ffffffs,” the attempted curse came out like a hiss and Max snickered as he gracefully lowered to the mat beside me.
“Tell your assistant to stop giving me the stink eye.”
“Christopher? What’s he going on about?” Blinking over at his too-pretty face, I forced both eyes open to the cell phone he had pointed at me, my spectacularly styled and obnoxiously punctual assistant glaring back at me from the screen.
“He’s going on about the fact that Max promised you’d be done by ten,” Chris said dryly.
“Yeah?” I panted, blinking back at him.
“It’s a quarter after.”
I fought back the smile that threatened the corners of my mouth. “Is there a meeting I’m forgetting about? I thought Jenna was on the calendar for noon.”
“Yes,” he snipped pointedly in that blunt New Yorker’s accent. Chris and I met at a gala that my younger brother, Finn, invited me to a few years back. The event benefitted the art society in New York City, and I’d known that night I’d have to spirit him away on my own. When the pandemic shut down the life he’d loved in Manhattan, he’d chomped at the bit to join my predominantly-remote team until he proved so invaluable, I bribed him to follow me from gig to gig until—and unless—some beautiful blonde swept him away and demanded he put a ring on her finger. “But if you don’t eat between now and then, there will be nothing in the way of productive conversation and everything in the way of a hangry velociraptor. Ten-sixteen,” he added for emphasis. Raising my hands in reluctant surrender, I rose to stand before turning to hoist Max to his feet.
“Okay, okay, I’ll hop in and out of the shower and be ready to go.”
“If I promise to feed the tyrannosaurus, will you get your ugly mug off my screen?” Max griped. I wrinkled my brow. Chris was anything but ugly. Six foot one, sandy-brown hair, gentle green eyes framed by smile lines, a sexy plaid cashmere scarf wrapped around his lean neck—how the man was single was beyond me.
“Fine.”
“Fine,” Max bit back. My brows had likely merged with my hairline by the time his gaze landed on mine after ending the video chat and slipping his phone in his pocket. “That man bugs me.”
