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He threw his head back laughing, cheeks flushed bright red. “Oh shit, I think my back is broken. You’re heavier than you look, babe.”

“Mmhmm.” I raised up on my arms and slammed my body down on his again, knocking the laugh out of him. “Don’t forget it. I’ll crush you.”

Someone grabbed one of my arms, then the other, tugging me upright and off Adam. Rodrigo held me against his broad chest, and Hope petted my hair.

“I think you should call it a night, sweetie,” she said.

“Should I?” I rubbed my forehead. “My head hurts already, dammit.”

She flicked me lightly between my eyebrows. “That’s because you already have a goose egg popping out, girl.”

I touched my forehead. There was already a lump right in the middle. “Shit, that hurts. I hate it so much.” I was starting to hate everything, including myself.

Adam popped up from the floor, his shaggy hair falling over one eye. “You broke at least two of my ribs. You’re like a bag of cement.”

“Why are you so rude?”

He took a bow and nearly toppled over again. “Why are you such a brick house?”

I flipped him off in slow motion. I hadn’t meant to do it in slow motion, but that seemed to be the only speed my body was now capable of moving. Maybe Hope was right. Maybe it was time to bury myself under my covers and sleep this day away.

I turned toward the hall leading to my bedroom, but my feet got tangled. Rodrigo was right there, catching me again and hauling me into his arms. Hope cleared a path of bodies out of the way, leading us to my room. Rodrigo placed me carefully on my bed, and Hope slipped off my shoes.

“You guys are the cutest. Do you know that?”

Watching them work together like a team made my heart go pitter patter. Rodrigo deserved a hot girl like Hope. And Hope deserved a sweet angel baby like Roddy.

Tears pricked my eyes.What do I deserve?

Shit, I was getting emotional. This always happened when I got drunk with nothing to distract me from a heavy dose of introspection.

Hope handed me pajamas, but I waved her away. “You guys better go. I’m about to get the drunk cries, and I really don’t want you to witness that.” I swiped my eyes hard. “Thank you, honey bunnies.”

Hope eyed me skeptically. “Are you sure?”

“Mmhmm. Go, please.”

Roddy bent down and gave me a light kiss on the forehead, right beside my goose egg. Hope squeezed my hand. Both seemed reluctant to leave, but when I finally forced my face into a smile that felt maniacal but must’ve been convincing, they left me in the quiet, dim bedroom.

Lying on top of my covers in a tiny miniskirt and cropped tank top, I could still hear the party, but the walls were thick enough, it became background noise. I was too restless to fall asleep, so I stripped off my clothes and stumbled into the bathroom to wash my face and do a piss-poor job of brushing my teeth. Then back to bed, my phone clutched in my hand.

I brought up the calendar, which now only had my schedule, and more tears stung my eyes. I hadn’t been in love with Logan or Megan, not even close, but our arrangement had gone on for longer than any of my past relationships. They were both my friends and lovers. I missed that.

And damn did I miss the sex.

Leave it to Logan to cockblock me from my last opportunity to get laid. I refused to believe he hadn’t been the one to break into my apartment, alibi or not. That asshole had gotten in the way of me having my way with Ronan, and he didn’t even know it.

I was free-falling into an abyss of sadness and self-pity. If I hadn't been so slutty and greedy, taking two lovers instead of one, this wouldn’t have happened. If I could settle down and be with oneman,my life would be happier.

That was my father’s voice. Those were his words. Twenty-five, successful, independent, and he was still ringing in my head.

Ronan’s voice was there too. His thinly veiled accusation that I’d called the press for attention had gotten under my skin like a shard of glass. Every time I moved, I felt it. The tenderness of my healing tattoo reminded me of his grip on my neck and his stone-cold eyes.

Stupid Ronan.

He didn’t know a thing about me. Comparing me to his past teenage pop star clients, or whoever he’d guarded, and I was nothing like them. I didn’t make music to be famous. Fame was a necessary thorn in my side. I’d play in dark, grungy clubs forever if I could make bank doing it.

Ronan needed to know how stupid he was. I dialed his stupid number and huffed out an impatient breath while I waited for him to pick up the call.

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