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“No, I will not stop.Yourcousin is a dickwad,” Drew continues. “A self-obsessed, egomaniacal dickwad. And, for another thing—”
“Drew!” This time it’s me interjecting.
She looks at me then back at Flynn, whose face is marred by a deep frown. He pulls her toward him, embracing her in a hug that looks as delicious as freshly washed sheets and fluffy pillows and softer-than-a-kitten blankets.
“Let her speak,” he says softly.
“Sorry,” she grumbles. “I get a bit protective sometimes.”
“He knew I was going to be there,” I continue. “I think the whole thing about him boasting that he was going to return the rings was a ruse so Sherilee would tell me exactly when to go to his place. He turned up with flowers...and my wedding band.”
Again with the fucking flowers. How did Inotsee that for the manipulative ploy that it was all the other times he used it?
“He said it was all a mistake. That we could go back to the way things were between us.” My head pounds. The worst thing—or maybe it was the best thing—was that I wasn’t even a little bit tempted to take him up on his offer. Whatever I felt for him in the past...it was gone. Totally gone. “He tried to tell me that the wedding had made me overly emotional and that’s why I was reading too much into what I ‘thought’ I heard.”
Drew brings my mug over and places a kiss on the top of my head.
“I was surprised, to be honest. I thought he’d be mad, but he just seemed...desperate.” I inhale deeply, sucking the alcoholic fumes into my lungs in the hope it might relax me. “He was determined to convince me that I was making a mistake by walking away. He promised me the world—an even bigger and better wedding, a beautiful house, a honeymoon to Paris.”
I had to laugh at that. He’d pooh-poohed my original suggestion to honeymoon in Paris because of all that “boring museum shit” I liked. Now suddenly it was back on the table?
But I’d noticed once key thing missing from his grand declaration: anything of substance. Had he offered to work on the relationship? No. Had he offered love or companionship or a happy future? No. He’d only offered things he could secure with a swipe of his credit card. Because that’s all that mattered to him.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” Flynn asks.
“No. Honestly, I just want some time alone to think,” I say with a sigh.
Flynn nods and rakes a lock of his gingery-red hair back from his face. “Seriously, Presley. Whatever you need, we’re here for you.”
“Don’t you feel bad taking my side over your own family?” I ask him.
Flynn gives me a crooked smile and, for a minute, I cantotallyunderstand why my sister fell for him, even if he’s not at all my type. “Family is complicated, and I don’t condone Mike’s behavior ninety-nine percent of the time. He and I...we’re very different people. You’ve got no reason to feel humiliated, but he does. This whole thing is on him.”
Drew told me that Flynn’s brother was there when Mike gave the speech about how he wasn’t really in love with me. Both Flynn and his brother, Gabe, were furious on my behalf, which is nice...but it’s hardnotto feel humiliated by everyone knowing I was duped.
I stroke the fine face of my grandmother’s watch. It’s an art deco piece, with loads of intricate little details. My grandparents’ wedding date is engraved in scrolling letters on the inside. Family is important to me, and I treasure this piece with all my heart. Having it back makes me feel like a hole has been patched up inside me.
“I appreciate the support, you two. Really.” I flop back on the couch. “But I am ready for some solid Netflix binging. There’s also a tub of ice cream and a soup ladle with my name on it.”
Drew snorts. “A soup ladle is an interesting choice.”
“I want to see how much I can fit in my mouth at once.”
“That’s what she said.” Drew gives me a quick squeeze and heads to the front door, with Flynn close behind. His affection and care for her radiates, and it makes my stomach twist with jealousy.
I’m so happy for Drew but, dammit, I want that, too. Even though I don’t think I can ever trust my own judgement again, I wish I had someone to hold me right now. Thinking that makes me feel sad and pathetic, so I drain the rest of my boozy coffee and immediately fetch the choc-berry ice cream from the freezer. I don’t actually use a soup ladle—I’m not totally nuts—but I do scour the drawers for the biggest spoon I can find.
I stand in the kitchen, wearing pyjama bottoms and my old La Trobe University hoodie. I’m emotionally exhausted and, to quote the great Ron Burgundy, “I’m in a glass case of emotion.” Only it feels like that case is strapped to a rollercoaster and I’m bouncing around inside it like a Ping-Pong ball. It’s a complicated metaphor, but it’s accurate.
Can’t I go back two nights ago to when I was dancing on a stage, feeling free as a bird? Can’t I go back to the hot, mind-numbing pleasure of Sebastian’s hands on my body and his lips at my neck? Can’t I just skip all the humiliation and march right on over to the good stuff?
A knock at the door makes me groan. I love my sister, but she fusses over me when I’m sad and right now I want to stick my whole head into this tub of ice cream. I abandon it on the counter and head to the front door.
“Drew, please. I’m fine, I just want to be alone—” The words die on my lips as I yank the door open.
It’s not Drew.
Sebastian stands there, looking hotter than ever. His dark hair is mussed from the windy spring weather and there’s at least two days of stubble coating his jaw, giving him a darkly, delicious edge. He’s wearing jeans and sneakers and a black jumper under a leather jacket, and there’s something a little bit badass about it.
