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My eyes dart to the double balcony doors, and the image of Roman launching himself over my railing pops into my mind.
A small smile curves my lips.
ChapterNineteen
ROMAN
“Your bet,” Bennet says from seemingly very far away.
I look up, and am almost surprised to see my kitchen table full, my friends staring at me expectantly. I shake my head to clear it, blinking down at the cards laid out in the center of the table. I can barely remember what’s in my own hand, so it makes no difference what’s been turned over since I stopped paying attention to the game.
I toss a few bills into the center without enthusiasm. “Check.”
Pierce rolls his eyes. “You just raised the last bet by $20. At least pretend to pay attention.”
My expression is stony. “I don’t know what gave you the impression I wanted to play at all.”
There’s a Hunter S. Thompson book in my room calling my name, and a woman I love having dinner with some other man right now. I have better things to do than play poker with my dickhead friends.
Luca, another one of our friends, leans over and fishes my $20 out of the pot in the center of the table, handing it back to me. “No one thinks you want to play, Roman.”
I growl in the back of my throat. “Then why—”
“—Because, we’re better people than you.” Bennet interrupts me. “Accept it and move on.”
He’s not wrong. They are better people than me—it’s part of why I can’t understand why they won’t go away. I’ve been moody and mean and borderline unstable for a decade, and that was before Marcia died and things got infinitely worse.
I watch my friends talking and laughing, tossing money on the table, winning and losing, and in a way I’m grateful that they haven’t abandoned me. Even if I deserve it. Even if I’ve done my best to drive them away time and time again in a thousand different ways—tonight being no exception.
I can’t think. Can’t focus, knowing that Etta is at dinner with that fucking prick, Dane, right now. I keep imagining wild scenarios where she leaves and gets married tonight, or comes over tomorrow to tell me that she met someone else and is moving to England with him.
It won’t matter.I try to tell myself as I toss a few more dollars onto the table. All the reasons she wants this will still count, even if her parents are pressuring her, or Dane turns out to be not such a prick after all. I can take her traveling. We’ll fix the feud. She’ll get to go to school. She’ll still be mine.
A sharp knock sounds on the door and I jump, nearly sloshing the beer in my hand over the front of my sweater. Bennet and I make eye-contact across the table.
“Did you invite anyone else?” I ask, leaning forward, the front legs of my chair hitting the floor with a clatter.
Bennet shakes his head, then glances over at Luca “I didn’t, but…”
I know what he’s implying—we all do. Luca is fucking some girl, and is so pussy-whipped he will invite her anywhere he is without a second thought. Not that I have a single leg to stand on, but no one but Bennet knows that yet, and he’s not going to point it out. He likes his teeth where they are.
“Not me,” Luca says, putting his hands up. “Bianca is on vacation. I’m texting her now.”
I grumble in the back of my throat, as whoever is outside knocks again. Realizing I will have to get up and answer the door, I put my drink down and push my chair back from the table. “If it’s the neighbors complaining about noise again…”
“Curse ‘em,” Bennet says, slurring his words slightly.
To be honest, if I hadn’t sworn off magic, I would. Our neighbor could do with a good curse. I suppose I could always hit him…
I make my way to the door and pull it open with more force than necessary, sure I’m about to come face to face with one of the human guys from next-door. Walking, talking, assholes who I cannot believe can afford to live in this building, and yet act as if they hung the godsdamn moon and are the gods gift to women.
“Listen,” I say as I open the door. “We didn’t—” I stop short, my words dying in my throat.
“Hi,” Etta says breathlessly.
Her eyes are wide, her hands bunched in the wool coat she’s wearing over casual leggings. I blink at her, nonplussed, while behind me, I’m distantly aware that the kitchen has fallen silent, my friends clearly knowing that something is going on.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, finally.
