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“Uh, hello? Where have you been?” Noelle asks, clearly not keying in to my mood.
“I’m going to kill him,” I grate out.
“Who?” Charlotte asks.
“Maddox Taylor.” No sense in beating around the bush. Plus, once they know who has messed with me, they can all help me devise a plan to get back at him.
I need to order three hundred of something. What shall I choose?
All of my girls shoot wide-eyed looks in my direction. Yeah, seems about right.
“I’m sorry?” Charlotte asks, clearing her throat. “Did you just say Maddox Taylor? The football player?”
I take a deep breath through my nose and blow it out of my mouth harshly. “Yup, and lower your voice, please. I don’t need the entire diner to know about my morning.”
“And why are we planning to murder him?” Charlotte interrogates further. “I mean, I’m all for trying to get away with murder. I’ve actually always wondered if I could get away with it. I think I could; I’m smart enough.” She nods enthusiastically. “I’ve watched enough murder documentaries and listened to one too many murder podcasts... but my hair is always getting everywhere, girls. Even Damien complains about it.”
Noelle cuts her off. “Jesus, Charlotte. Let her speak.” She turns to me, her brows scrunched together. “Honey, what’s going on? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re okay and that we don’t have to file a missing person’s report for you anymore. But why on earth are you pissed off at Maddox Taylor?”
I reach into my purse and pull out a pair of handcuffs, slapping them on the table. The loud clash of metal hitting the surface draws the attention of people around us.
“Did you get arrested?” Noelle asks.
Charlotte rolls her eyes. “Jesus, Noelle. Really? Do you think if she got arrested they would have let her go and take the handcuffs with her?”
Noelle scoffs. “Jeez. Sorry. Pregnancy brain is a real thing, all right?”
Amelia decides this is the appropriate time to chime in. “Penelope, why do you have handcuffs in your purse, and what does this have to do with Maddox?” I’m sure she has as many questions as the girls, even though she knew about my relationship with him when they didn’t.
I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. “Because that dickhead fucked me within an inch of my life last night and several times all week then handcuffed me to his bed this morning and left me there as a punishment.”
All of their mouths drop open, but I’m still fuming so I can’t address their otherwise comical reactions right now.
“He handcuffed you to the bed? And just left you there? How did you get out?” Charlotte questions, clearly invested in the story of how I weaseled my way out of that situation. I mean, doesn’t everybody contemplate what they would do in such a position at least once in their life?
I mean, I know I have. I just never thought I would actually ever be in that kind of debacle against my will.
I shake my head, popping my tongue against my cheek, trying to calm myself down as I explain how I got out. Something I will unfortunately be reliving for a long time. “His cleaning lady came in and found me butt-ass naked on his bed. The keys were right on the nightstand, so she was able to unlock me—but not before she saw my snatch.”
They all laugh under their breaths. I swear Charlotte even snorts before she covers her mouth with her hand.
“Jesus, Penelope. What are you going to do now? And you and Maddox Taylor? When the hell did this happen?” Noelle probes, leaning over the table.
I reach for my mimosa and drain half of it before replying. “Buckle up for one hell of a story, ladies, especially because this one is just getting started.” My eyes dart to Amelia, and with a nod of her head, I know she’s telling me what I accepted walking in here—it’s time to let everything out.
“First of all, I want to apologize for keeping this from you and Noelle.” I flick my eyes back and forth between them.
Charlotte lifts a brow. “What are you talking about? Amelia knew?”
Amelia grimaces beside her. “Yeah, I did. But only because I pulled it out of her.”
“Interesting,” Charlotte says. “We can revisit that later. Keep talking, please.”
Taking a deep breath again, I start. “I met Maddox Taylor back in March at that vodka party Charles assigned me to.”
Their mouths drop open, and Charlotte asks, “What?”
“And I slept with him that night.”
