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As if on instinct, my date, Drew, stands from the table where he was chatting with Flynn. I swear men are actual animals. It’s always a pissing match. Drew wraps his strong arms around my waist and kisses my cheek. I resist the urge to bat him away—I’m not into Drew in a romantic way. I have exactly zero intentions of sleeping with him tonight, or any night, but I needed to have a hot guy on my arm so everyone would see that I’m perfectly fine.
Even if I’m not. For multiple reasons.
I lean into Drew, breathing in his cologne that is not sandalwood and amber but more musky and citrusesque. The scent does nothing for me, but Drew is hot—even if things between me and him will definitely never go anywhere.
My chest tightens. I don’t know what’s got me more in my head, Kade being back or the two of them being here, in the same place as me, after years apart. There’s too much going on right now and I need air—ironically enough, we’re on a fucking rooftop in Chicago and I couldn’t feel more of a breeze surrounding me, but it isn’t enough.
“Drew, I’m going to run to the bathroom. I’ll get us another round on the way back.” I peel myself away from him, and he winks at me, his smile reaching his eyes. I’d feel bad if Drew didn’t know that I don’t have feelings for him, but he does. Neither of us are interested in each other that way, but we both use each other from time to time. “Kade, we’ll talk. Not tonight, though. Soon,” I promise him with what I hope comes across as a pleasant expression on my face, but I honestly don’t know anymore.
In seconds, I’m across the rooftop and into the outdoor bathroom setup. Once in front of the sinks, my chest heaves as I slam my palms onto the granite. This was such a stupid idea. Seeing Kade for the first time in a long time, Spence being here—both of them being thrust back into my life. I was asking for this. Clearly. Masochistic bitch. I look at myself in the mirror, refusing to let even one tear fall, not wanting to ruin my perfect cat eye.
Now if only my world would stop spinning.
After a few moments, I straighten, smoothing my hands over my flyaways. Keeping my eyes trained on my reflection, I step back from the mirror. I’m going to be okay. Kade is here. He’s going to be here. I have to learn to deal with it. What happened between us is in the past.
My focus zeroes in on Spence, and I bat that away too.
“Dec?” The door flies open and Isla heads toward me. “Are you okay? Don’t think I didn’t notice you fleeing for the bathroom. We can forget the idea of Kade working for us—just tell me now. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
I shake my head and force what feels to be my hundredth smile of the night. “I’m fine. Let’s talk about it at girls’ night, okay? But I’m fine. Honestly, it isn’t even him. It’s just a lot to take in at once.”
Isla narrows her dark eyes at me, her hands on her hips.
“I swear,” I say, crossing my heart. “Let’s go celebrate your birthday, okay? I’ll be out in a minute.”
She hugs me and makes sure—again—that I’m okay, and I tell her that I am. After taking a few deep breaths and reminding myself that I’m in control of this situation, I grasp the door handle firmly just in time for it to be swung open. It nearly knocks me on my ass, but I dodge it just in time. I’m about to tell the woman I’m sorry and bypass her to get back out and celebrate Isla’s birthday when I look up and into his green eyes.
Fuck.
“This is the women’s bathroom,” I tell him firmly as he narrows his eyes at me. Kade and I haven’t been this close since he bailed on me all those years ago, and my stomach is doing flips—something between nausea and excitement bubbling inside me. Kade always had a way of making me feel like I was living this dangerous, unabridged life.
“DJ.” His deep voice echoes off the bathroom walls. “I just wanted to tell you how fucking beautiful you look.” He smiles and licks his bottom lip, something he used to do that turned me on. But that old visceral reaction to him isn’t the same as it used to be. That push and pull between the two of them, Spence and Kade—now that I’m a bit older, it seems like one of them is still that much more on top than the other.
He takes a few steps toward me, and his mouth is inches from mine. I feel like I’m suddenly the main plot in a Lifetime movie rather than living my own life. I step backward, remembering that Kade is the same man who broke my heart, but I’m not that same woman. Not anymore.
I skirt around him and walk out of the bathroom without a second thought.
* * *
A few hours and a few strong—and much-needed—shots later, I walk up my driveway and wave goodbye to Rush and Landon—my security men. I press the close button for the automatic gate that surrounds my home, and the guys wait until it closes completely before driving off.
I don’t know the rules of being famous. It feels like I learn something new every single day. But what I do know is that I’m never having my security team sleep at my house—it’s weird, and I need the sliver of privacy my home offers.
I climb the steps to my front door, having forgotten my garage remote in a different purse, and unlock the door to my empty house. My place is big. It’s too big for just me, but when you’re nineteen and buy a house after a major record label signs you and you have more money than you know what to do with… Well, it just seemed like a good idea at the time.
A lot of things seemed like good ideas at the time.
I kick my black heels off in the long entryway, sliding them across the marble flooring and behind the door. Why were heels ever invented anyway? All they do is cause pain.
“Alexa, why were high heels invented?” I let out a laugh, but Alexa takes me seriously. She always does.
“The surprisingly functional reason high heels were invented, from today.com,” Alexa says in her condescending, I know everything tone. “Elizabeth Semmelhack, senior curator of theBata Shoe Museumin Toronto, traces their history to Persian men in the tenth century, who wore heels while on horseback so their feet would fit better in the stirrups. This trend was then adopted by Europeans at the turn of the seventeenth century.”
“Alexa, what the fuck!” I cry, my mouth falling open. “They were made for men?” Of course, high heels started off being a man thing, then they pushed them on us.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t understand what you said. Could you repeat that?”
Get a life, Alexa.
