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“Right,” she confirms. “I might have to look for an older man myself.”
I choke on my tongue, balking. The cheeky fucker. “Charge it to my card.” I hang up and get to my feet, feeling at my freshly shaven face. Older man? Is that what people see when they see Ava with me? Older man with a younger woman? The doctor thought she was my wife. I pout, just as Sarah walks in. She looks me up and down, and I jump in before she can comment on my crumpled form. “How old do I look?”
“So you’re talking to me then?” She struts across to my desk and takes a seat, swinging one leather-clad leg over the other and pouting her pouty red lips.
I narrow an eye on her. “How old?”
“Now? Two hundred.”
“Oh fuck off,” I mutter, rounding my desk, heading straight back out. “At least I’m all natural.” What am I, a bitch? I roll my eyes to myself and yank the door open. I’ll go for a swim. Have a sauna. Maybe even smash a few balls over the net on the courts. I look up to the ceiling. Killing time.Again.
“Why are you so concerned about how old you loo—” Sarah stops abruptly, gasps, and then starts laughing. The sound stabs me in the back. “Good God, you’re paranoid the young, hot interior designer will find a hotter,youngerman.”
I swing around, outraged. “There aren’t many men in this world hotter than I am, no matter their fucking age.”
Her smile is slap-worthy, and she shrugs, standing slowly from the chair. “Well, that’s the risk you take when you start fucking a younger woman.”
Fucking. She refuses to accept I’m capable of anything but emotionless fucking. “What, like the risk Carmichael took with you?” It’s out before I can stop it, and I don’t hold back there. “Because you were certainly on the lookout.” Permanently. And I was her unlucky prey.
Sarah doesn’t even flinch, the hard-faced bitch. She knows I’m being spiteful because I’m injured, even if every word I’m spitting at her is one hundred percent accurate.
“Carmichael spread himself as far as I did. You know that.” Her nose lifts in an act of vigor. “You must be paranoid, or you wouldn’t ask. Obviously, Ava hasn’t given you the reassurance you need.”
Oh, she’s given me plenty of reassurance. I throw Sarah a dirty look and leave before she presses some more and figures out that Ava doesn’t actuallyknowhow old her boyfriend is. I’m too mature to be aboyfriend. Regrettably, I’m not in my twenties like my... girlfriend? I roll my eyes.
“Where are you going?” Sarah calls. “I need to go over the schedule for the anniversary party with you.”
I stop and look back, finding her waving a file.
“The guest numbers need confirming, and the party bags putting together. And the business bank manager will be here at four thirty to update and verify our identities.”
“You want me to help put party bags together?”
“Just give me some time, will you? I’ve been doing this all on my own while you’re off out there behaving like a crazy bastard.” She gives me a pleading look. I hate that look. It’s a guilt-inducing look. Damn her. She’s always managed just fine without me, regardless of the workload. Whynowdoes she desperately want me around?
It’s a stupid question. Besides, I need to kill time.
Beaten, I trudge back to my desk, pulling my phone from my pocket when it rings. And with it, I manage to pull out Ava’s contraceptive pills too. They hit the floor with a little ding, and I stare at them for way too long before I register my brain screaming at me to pick them the fuck up before Sarah does. I dip fast and swipe them from the floor, stuffing them back in my pocket, not daring to look at Sarah. Would she know what they are? Would she click?
Fuck it.My phone continues to ring, offering me the perfect distraction to buy time and compile some bullshit story about Ava leaving them in my car. Until I see who’s calling me.
I heart jumps into my throat, and I reject Amalie’s call and drop to my chair, tossing my mobile onto my desk as Sarah lowers warily on the other side. I peek up at her, my jaw rolling. “Okay?” she asks.
“Fine,” I grunt, as my phone starts vibrating across the wood.
Sarah cranes her neck, and her lips form a straight line. I will her to keep her trap shut. I do not need a lecture on why I’m avoiding my sister’s constant attempts to reach me. It rings off, and a moment later, a voicemail alert sounds. I reach for my phone and calmly clear the screen.
“It’s your birthday a week today,” Sarah says quietly.
“I don’t do birthdays.” Like I have to remind her. They’re too hard. Too painful. And this year? Fuck, I’m dreading it. No alcohol to drown in. To help me pass the day as quickly and as pain free as possible. “So, the final numbers,” I go on, looking up at her, sounding completely together. I’m not. Jake should be here. He deserves to be here.It should have been me.
“Jesse?”
I blink, jerk, and inhale. “Numbers,” I croak, clearing my throat.
“Seven fifty.” Sarah slides a spreadsheet across to me, eyeing me closely. I collect it and skim to the page I need, running my eyes down the list of names. “Remove Freja Van Der Haus,” I order, tossing it back across my desk. Jesus, that might be a terrible move, but she can’t be here if Ava is, and Ava isdefinitelygoing to be here. On my arm. All night. “And add Ava.”
“What?”
