Page 93 of Cocky Brutal Sinner

I raise my brows. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Of course not!” Brinley says as she slips off her shoes at the door. “We just didn’t make plans for tonight, and it’s Friday, so I assumed you might go out or something.”

“That’s crazy. Who am I going to make plans with?” It’s supposed to come out like a joke. Instead, the words sound heavy.

Brinley’s jaw tightens. “You have people, Beau. You have your mom, and the people at Terrace. You have me.”

Shit, I didn’t mean to make her feel guilty. I plaster on a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I know. Right now, you’re the person I want to see the most in the world.”

She plops down next to me on the couch and snuggles against me. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Caught up on some paperwork for Velvet & Vice. Met with an interior designer to get a proposal for updating the booth fabric.” When I wasn’t wondering whether I should send Nate a present as a peace offering, or if he’d be pissed at me for pushing too hard. “What about you?”

“I actually just got back from the House of Cards,” she says with a forced casualness. I can’t help the way my body stiffens.

“Yeah? What were you doing there?”

She bites her lower lip. “I was actually with Cat and Pippa. They invited me over to explain.”

Bitter jealousy rips through me. It’s great that Brinley’s friends haven’t shut her out, but fuck, I wish I’d had that chance. The group chat is still actively, conspicuously silent. Ryan didn’t text me again, and neither did anyone else, no matter how many times I pick up my phone just to check. Fuck, I’d hand over a year’s worth of Terrace’s profits for an invitation to talk to the guys again. But I can’t put that on Brinley. It’s not her fault that my betrayal was somehow more unforgivable.

“That’s great, Brin.” I’m a shitty actor, and I know she can hear the forced cheerfulness. Both of us are pretending it’s all fine, even though nothing has ever been further from fine. “How did it go?”

“It went good, I think. They let me tell them I was sorry. They haven’t forgiven me, but they listened. I wasn’t able to stay long, anyway, because they were getting ready for⁠—”

She cuts herself off, but I know how the sentence was supposed to end.

They were getting ready for Nate’s birthday celebration. The girls were invited to Gladiator night this year. I wonder if Luke will make them wear togas. I wonder how they’ll get out of eating Ryan’s horrific homemade cake.

I wonder if they’ll miss me there at all.

Brinley shifts. She straddles me, her thighs hugging my hips, her torso pressed against mine, her hands cradling my face as she looks at me. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I know you wish you were there with Nate.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t bear the gentleness in her gaze, the softness that I don’t deserve.

“It’s okay, Beau. It’s okay to miss them. You don’t have to pretend.”

I shake my head. If I stop pretending, I’ll break. Brinley must read my mind because she brushes her lips lightly against mine. A soft reassurance that she’s here.

“Okay,” she says. “You’re okay. I know.” Then she runs her fingers through my hair. “You really need a haircut.”

Thank god she’s done pushing and willing to change the subject.

“Yeah. I should make an appointment.”

Brinley shifts so she’s no longer straddling me, but her legs are still across my lap. “What are you watching?”

“I think it’s called Cake Team Force or something like that.”

“What the hell is that cake supposed to look like?” she asks in disbelief.

I glance at the screen. The three-legged cat now has a long giraffe neck. “It’s supposed to be a horse, but now I think it’s some kind of Frankensteined zoo monstrosity.”

She shudders. “You should go on the show. Then I wouldn’t have to look at this…creature.”

“I’m a chef, not a baker.”

“Same difference.”