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Yeah. It was. But fuck her for that condescending tone in her voice. Fuck her for thinking I can’t handle this. Even if she’s right. “It’s fine.”
“Really?”
“It’s been a year. It’s not like I’m waiting by the phone.”
“Oh. Do you… Do you want to come?”
I’d rather tattoo I’m still in love with Penelope Winters on my dick. “Of course.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s not a problem, the hotel and airfare? Maui is expensive in August.”
I bite my tongue. Has she always been this condescending or is it new? “No. We’re doing great. But thanks for the concern.”
“So, uh… I guess I’ll mark you down for a plus one?”
“Yeah.”
“Mom wanted to invite Dean.”
Of course she did. “It’s your wedding. Do what you want.” My younger brother despises Penny. I’d never admit it to the smug bastard, but I envy his easy hatred. I wish I could turn off the part of me that still loves her.
“That’s true. I… I think I will. Does he need a plus one?”
“You know Dean.”
She laughs. “Yeah. How is he?”
“Same as always.” I push off the wall. Focus every bit of my attention on my bare feet against the hardwood. Half a dozen steps and I’m at my desk.
I sit in my eight-hundred-dollar ergonomic chair. Press my palms into my black wood laminate desk. Stare at the sketchbook left open to a mock-up.
It’s lyrics from some song about wanting your ex to die in a fiery car crash.
I even envy that violent bastard of a lyricist.
I wish I wanted Penny to die in agony.
That would be so much easier than wanting her to live by my side forever.
My stomach churns. This conversation is torture. How the fuck am I going to survive watching her walk down the aisle? “You want cash or something off your registry?”
“Ryan…” You’re not supposed to ask that.
I need some way to get through this. A shield. Someone that will convince her I don’t need her. Someone who will get how fucked-up thi
s is.
But the only person who gets this is Leighton.
There’s no way I’m using her as—
There’s no way I’m using her, period.
She’s my best friend.
