We exchange a nod, and he tells Bride Squad, who hasbegun eyeing him with more-than-friendly interest, “I’ll return your contraband when you’re ready to leave.”
“I’ll be back later,” I say for his benefit. “Cormac needs me for something.”
He seems annoyed, but I’m sure that’s primarily because Mom Therapy, Bride Squad, and the kid, who is thankfully short, still have him surrounded.
“Back off, ladies,” I say, clapping my hands. “There will be no touching of the staff.”
I start laughing as soon as the words register in my head. José grins, the pissed-off mom murmurs about shitty reviews, and I turn to leave.
I feel surprisingly good.
I tell myself it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m about to see Cormac.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CORMAC
This has been a bizarre twenty-four hours, right up there with the wedding that started it all.
I was about to text Pansy last night when I decided it felt super creepy to do it alone, in an empty house. So I popped over to Nathaniel’s and invited him over for a drink. I waited until we were settled and Nathaniel was halfway through one of his very long stories before I finally hit send on the message.
Admittedly, I hadn’t thought the situation through. It had felt perhaps creepier to send off an anonymous text on a burner while having a friend over for a casual drink, like I was a secret psychopath living a double life.
So yeah, I was a little agitated and totally distracted. I doubt I can recall a single word of the story Nathaniel told me. But if he noticed my distress, he didn’t say a word about it. He hadn’t even paused in his storytelling to make sure I was listening. He seemed happy enough just to be outside his house.
But before leaving, he gave me a serious look, eyebrows lowered, and said, “You do right by Nora.”
“She’s my fake girlfriend,” I said, feeling an uncomfortable press of emotion in my chest.
“Then you’d better do something about that, don’t you think? You don’t want to end up like me, alone and hanging out with twenty-year-olds.”
“I’m thirty, Nathaniel.”
“Then I’d better look for some younger friends.” He winked at me and headed out of the house, singing an Irish drinking song with surprising panache.
I checked my phone after shutting the door behind him and found a response from Pansy.
Is this Nora?
Oh, that wasn’t good, but it occurred to me that I could very honestly say I wasnotNora.
No.
What do you want?
Fuck. What was I supposed to want?
On a whim, I responded:
It’s time to leave José alone. You know you shouldn’t marry him.
It only occurred to me after I sent the message that it certainly sounded like something Nora might say. Then again, there were plenty of other people who might agree with the sentiment. Bradley, for example. Or the first guy. Or Micah, the mysterious third ex in the running.
She didn’t respond to that message, and I went to bed and got approximately one hour of sleep before waking up.
I tried to get back to sleep, but I was too busy feeling like a creep and worrying this situation would blow up in our faces. Nora’s, in particular.
Pansy certainly seemed unpredictable.
