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“Daniel?” Brielle said his name before she could stop herself, like he was Rumpelstiltskin and saying his name aloud would make him vanish in a tantrum.
Daniel whipped around and smirked at her. “Ah. Hello, Elle.”
Brielle noticed as Daniel shifted that Archer had been behind him and he was staring up at Daniel and Brielle in utter puzzlement.
Daniel slid his arm around Pembroke and Pembroke looked at the floor. He was clearly gloating without even saying anything.
“Pem?” Brielle said, stepping closer. “What is going on?”
Daniel ran his free hand through his hair. “What’s going on is this is my new squeeze.” He squeezed her shoulder on cue, as if reveling in the pun.
Despite wanting to ignore his existence, Brielle looked up at Daniel. “She’syour fiancée?” Brielle kept glancing back and forth between Pembroke and Daniel, waiting for either Pembroke’s embarrassed face or Daniel’s smug one to morph into something that remotely made sense. She’d spent graduation with Pembroke. Well, some of it. Daniel hadn’t been in the picture.
“No, that bitch broke my heart.” Daniel leered down at Pembroke, side-hugging her tighter. “Broke picked up the pieces.”
Oh, gee, I wonder why.“You were still engaged a week ago.” Brielle readjusted her cross-body purse’s strap, suddenly irritated immensely by the way the strap dug into the side of her neck.
Daniel shrugged and nuzzled Pembroke’s neck. He had to bend over quite a bit to reach it, so he looked ridiculous. Pembroke leaned away, avoiding his kiss.
“Give me a break,” said Daniel, his mouth twisting. “Why do you care so much about people seeing us? You’re making me look like an abuser.” His mouth soured around the word.
Archer wheeled forward and Brielle couldn’t help but feel swoony at the determined look on his face. “Then maybe you should stop acting like one, okay?”
“Lay off,” said Daniel. He looked at Archer and then Brielle and back again. “So are you a fan of this crippled douche, too, Elle?”
Brielle didn’t even know how it happened. She didn’t remember dropping her bag to the floor and then slamming her palm against Daniel’s cheek, but her hand was out and it stung, and Daniel cradled his cheek and stared at her like she’d just raised the dead. “What the hell is wrong with you, you jealous bitch?”
He took a step forward and then screamed, bouncing with one foot in the air. He stared at Archer. “You wheeled over my foot!”
“You walked into me,” said Archer, gripping his wheels tightly.
“I couldsue you!” Daniel pointed at Archer and Brielle. “I could sue you both!”
“Try it.” Brielle crossed her arms, feeling stronger than she had reason to.
“Messed up.” Daniel shook his head, limping slightly as he shuffled around Brielle and made his way to the door. “You are allmessed up. Get your own damn ride home, Pembitch.”
As soon as he was out of sight, Brielle rounded on Pembroke. “Seriously, what thehell—” She cut herself off the moment she saw Pembroke dissolve into a puddle of tears.
* * *
Brielle thoughtabout walking out on Pembroke right then and there, never knowing what the hell had gone through her head to date Daniel for even a week, to be so secretive and withdrawn overDaniel—big fucking mistakeDaniel—and leave her to deal with the problems of her own creation.
But that wouldn’t feel right. She owed Pembroke a chance to explain herself, to do better. She at least owed her a freaking ride in her time of need.
Only, she hadn’t driven herself.
“I most definitely want to take her home, but…” Archer tapped his lips with his finger and Brielle tried to push aside all her thoughts about wanting to jump him. Wrong time, wrong place. “I’d feel terrible asking Pauline to drive an hour away and back this late at night. She’s already on special overtime for me as is.”
Brielle had a thought. “Plus, there’s only the one seat in the back…?”
“I can sit in my chair in the van, that’s okay.”
“Don’t worry about it,” mumbled Pembroke, her eyes still glued to the floor. “I can call my dad or… Uber or something…”
“That would be one expensive Uber ride.” Brielle sighed, waiting for Pembroke to look up and explain herself, but she didn’t. “If you don’t mind her riding back with us to your place, I can just take her back home from there once I get my car.”
“What’s all this…?” The older woman—Archer’s mother—appeared out of practically nowhere, slithering through the dwindling crowd with a Starbucks coffee in her hand. “Archer,” she said, gazing down at her son coldly, “did these ladies come with you?”
