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“Yes, including that loser’s address so we can kick his ass,” Brit said.
A chuckle floated up her throat. “I’ve moved on, but thanks for the support. Which brings me to another idea… I’d love to invite Julie and Reagan, the wedding planner, to my bachelorette party too,” she said. She hoped her friends wouldn’t mind extra company, but Julie had mentioned she could get out more, and Reagan had been so sweet texting and calling about the wedding reception. Why not add to their group of friends? Single women brought a different energy.
Lara bit the inside of her cheek. She’d already thought of herself as a married woman. That meant when Troy left her, she’d land on her ass. Don’t overthink, she told herself.
“Oh, nice. Sure, whoever you want,” Violet said.
“I also suggest from now on, we should have more women for our Bad Girls’ Club meetings,” Lara said.
“You mean recruit more members, like, to add to our group?” Nikki asked.
“Yes. We can always meet just the four of us too, but maybe once a month we can do a larger group for starters. Just think… how many times is one of us busy because of a trip, or work, or…”
“A kid who got sick,” Brit added.
“A husband who wants to take you on a date,” Violet said.
“Exactly. This way we can meet more people so there’s not a problem if someone can’t make it. Besides, we’re such a supportive group—I’d love to grow it and see what can happen. You know, girl gang and all.”
Nikki’s lips curled into a sweet smile. “You’re such a giving person, Lara. Troy is a lucky guy.”
Troy… his handsome face came to mind, but also how caring he’d been with her—despite his not believing in himself when it came to relationships. The way he made her feel… a syrupy sensation spread through her, softening her muscles and slapping a smile on her face. I love him.
Oh no… oh yes. No wonder she already thought of herself as married. The sentiment took root in her heart, traveling up and down her body with rapid fire speed.
Her friends’ conversation fell into the background as the undeniable truth blanketed her like a well-worn quilt. Of course she’d fallen for him… she’d tried to deny it to herself, to downplay the depth of her feelings but damn, they were strong, and as real as the sofa she now shuffled on.
How did knowing this, though, change things?
He’d been more open. He’d surprised her with the meal. He’d let her sleep in his room—and cuddled her in her sleep. But, was it enough? What if she dove all in, and he cheated on her? Betrayed her like he had his brother, flesh of his flesh? Apprehension clogged her throat, and she touched her neck, looking at the wall but not focusing on anything in particular.
What if I never find out if he’ll be different with me? If he can be different?
She chewed her lower lip. If she told him how she felt straight away, she’d scare him. Much like she had when she’d tried to probe him before at the bakery. She’d have to show him—slowly and consistently, without shoving it down his throat. And hope that would be enough for him to give her a chance, so she could give them a chance.
11
“Troy?” His assistant’s voice filtered through the intercom. “Conor O’Donnell is here.”
Troy popped his knuckles. What the hell did Conor want? He’d given his lawyer the information about the property that Conor wanted, to transfer the deed and take care of the details. “Send him in.”
An in-person visit didn’t sound good.
Conor strode inside, his movements calculated and economical. He closed the door behind him.
“Conor. Have a seat.” Troy stood up, gesturing at the seat in front of him.
Conor waved him off, slowly stalking around, regarding the accent pieces and pictures on the wall. Troy sat back on his chair. He didn’t have time for power plays. Annoyance crept under his skin, but he kept his expression neutral. He’d already lost his cool with Conor before, and doing it again wouldn’t help. “What do you want?” he asked in a casual voice.
Conor turned to him, hand in his pocket. “That’s not how you greet a friend, is it?”
Friend? Troy squared his shoulders. “Friends don’t have their bodyguards beat their friends up. They do it themselves,” Troy said.
A small smile curled Conor’s lips. “I could say friends also don’t beat up friends. But I’m assuming you already know that, which is why you don’t have real friends.”
Troy tapped his foot on the floor. A restlessness stabbed at him, but he knew if he stood up or got close to Conor, he may do something he’d regret later—or not regret, but still put him in deep shit with his father. He’d been able to convince Giorgio he’d been in the right when he punched Conor before, but Troy shouldn’t push his luck.
“That property you’re transferring to my name,” Conor said.
