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Motioning to the bartender for another scotch, I reply, “We’re going to Cherry Pop.”
He pulls a puzzled face. “And why would you want to go there? I’d have thought you’d much prefer getting kicked in the balls…repeatedly…over going there again.”
“Seeing Maddy on that dance floor is worth the pain,” I reveal. Images of her hot, sweaty body have me reaching down and adjusting the dancing currently going on in my pants.
And just like that, Hunter ruins my fantasy. “And where do I fit in with all of this? You want to see me bust a move on the dance floor, too?”
“No, you idiot. Her friend is coming, so I thought you could keep her entertained.”
He rubs his hands together wickedly. “Is her friend hot?”
I laugh when thinking about the fiery redhead. “Yeah, she’s hot in a crazy, kind of psychotic way.”
Hunter looks like he’s just won the horny male’s version of Lotto. “Sounds like my kind of woman.”
Unable to hide my grin, I reply, “Good luck with that.”
“Challenge accepted, Dr. Mathews.”
He has no idea what he’s in for.
“Now back to the issue at hand. What are you going to do about the harlot?”
I groan. What a way to ruin my mood. “I don’t know.” When Finch shakes his head, I add, “I know what I should do, but I’m—”
“A pussy,” Hunter finishes for me.
Seeing no point in denying it, I nod. “Yeah, man. That’s exactly what I am.”
Talking to these guys has just affirmed what I know I have to do. I know the consequences won’t be pretty, but I have to be a man and tell them both.
“I’ll tell Juliet Saturday,” I reveal, meaning every single word.
Hunter chokes on his drink. “She’s coming Saturday? Don’t you think that’ll be a little awkward?”
“Yes, Hunter, that would be a lot awkward. I’ve agreed to meet Juliet Saturday morning,” I clarify, still puzzled about why she’s requested this meeting.
“Why?” both Finch and Hunter bark.
“I have no idea why. But you’re right.” I look over at Hunter, who widens both eyes.
“Can I get that in writing also?”
Ignoring him, I firmly proclaim, “It’s time I tell that cunt to fuck off and die.” I raise my glass and throw back my scotch, the celebratory burn tasting of victory. A taste I’ve so missed.
Ifeel like a complete impostor hidden behind my dark shades, tornjeans, and Yankees sweater. But I blend in with every tourist in New York, which is exactly what I want.
I still have no idea what I’m doing here, which is a dangerous thing when it comes to Juliet. I’ve learned the hard way to expect the unexpected, so it’s safe to say my guards are in place and I’m not in any mood to put up with her bullshit a second longer. I meant what I said. This little game of hers stops, and it stops today.
“Good morning, Dr. Mathews.” Her voice makes me shrink away in aversion.
“There is nothing good about this morning. What do you want, Juliet?” I turn around to face her.
She has the gall to smirk. “You know, there was a time when our mornings were very good.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Not that long ago,” she rebukes, thankfully keeping her distance.
