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"You look beautiful." I'm about to thank him when he adds, "For someone with a soccer ball under her dress."
Without taking my eyes off the crowd, I whack him on the back of the head and then bring my hand back to its original position.
Marcus barks out a laugh. "That's why I like you, Monroe."
I shift my attention, and he arches his brows at me.
"Why do youdislikeDenielle?"
"Don't go there, King." King, not Monroe. His tone is icy, and it's clear this is neither the time nor place.
I nod and turn toward my table when he stops me. "It's a long story. One I'm not ready to talk about."
"Okay." I give him a small smile. "I won't push. But I'm here if you need someone."
"Thank you." His expression softens.
Wes didn't leavemy side for the rest of the evening. We danced, laughed, and even Rhys's parents welcomed me as if I was not the daughter of the man who almost destroyed their family. It was surreal.
With Mags off on Thursdays, she ordered me to spend the night at Wes's. She would take care of Echo. In the follow-up text, she added that she couldn't find her earplugs and was still scarred from last night. I should have been embarrassed. I wasn't. I'd never been happier.
On the way down the mountain, Wes told me that Rhys and Lilly would stay a few more days. They had no plans to go on a honeymoon and no reason to return to LA. They could do everything from here. Hearing the news made me bounce in my seat. I'd never had a girlfriend until Mags. I liked Lilly a lot, and she quickly became my second female friend.How messed up was all that?
The night ended with us cuddled in bed. I was dead on my feet, and being curled up in Wes's arms was the perfect way to end the day. He put on a movie on his laptop, but I didn't make it past the opening credits.
Obnoxious buzzing seepsinto the blissful void of sleep. What the hell is that? Every time it stops, it starts right back up.
"Weeees?" I whine. I'm on my side, with him at my back, his heavy-as-hell arm draped over my belly and keeping me in place.
He grumbles something incoherently. The buzzing starts back up once more, and I've finally had enough.
"Wes!"
That gets me a reaction—a sleepy one, but we're getting somewhere. "What, Princess?"
"Your phone," I snap.
"Huh?"
Oh, for fuck's sake.
I elbow him in the ribs, and he lets himself fall on his back, draping an arm over his eyes. I shift and climb over him to reach the bedside table. I may have pushed my knee into his abdomen in the process, which wakes him all the way.
"Owww, fuck."
Ha!
I grab the annoying device and peer at the screen. Thirteen missed calls from Rhys and one text. My stomach plummets, and a sour taste forms on my tongue. I don't have to read the message to know this is bad, and somehow, I know it has to do with me.
I shove the phone at Wes, who catches it before it impacts his face. He scans it without reading the text, immediately calling his friend back. It cannot have rung more than once because as soon as Wes has it at his ear, I can already hear Rhys's voice coming from the speaker.
"Finally, asshole. We're on our way over. Don't do anything stupid." The line disconnects, and Wes holds my gaze. In slow motion—or so it feels—he peels the device from his ear and clicks on the one message. He taps again and then curses. His eyes scan something on the screen, and the more he reads, the redder he gets. An endless void opens in my belly.
"Wes?" My voice is tiny, and my nails dig into my palms.
His eyes jerk to mine, and he slashes his mouth. He drops the phone onto his chest and rakes his hands through his messy hair. He stares at the ceiling. "Fuck!" Then, he glances back at me, his eyes appearing darker than usual. "I'm so sorry, Princess."
"What?" I study his features but come up blank. He's unreadable. I grab the phone and scan the screen. I'm looking at a screenshot from a…blog? It's a personal website.
