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As Bridget’s words sank in, Marquetta’s spirits lifted. “I’m afraid to hope,” she admitted. “I’m a total coward, aren’t I?”
Bridget winked. “No, just stubborn as hell.” She looked around the kitchen. “And a little bit of a slob, to be honest. So, when was the last time you saw the bottom of the sink?”
She snorted. “If you must know, it’s been a few days.”
Bridget patted her on the shoulder. “How about we tackle this mess while we come up with a plan?”
“Plan? The plan is to continue to wallow in self-pity.” She stood and tossed her beer bottle into the trash before grabbing a few paper towels and a bottle of cleaner.
Bridget moved to the sink. She began rinsing off dishes and placing them in the dishwasher. “Or, you could figure out a way to make the man beg for your forgiveness.”
Marquetta stopped wiping down the counter and squinted. “Are you talking payback?”
“Not payback, necessarily.” Bridget sighed. “Damn it, you opened up to him, and he kicked you in the teeth. You need to show him what a jerk he’s being. Show that ass what he’s missing out on.”
She thought of his motorcycle and nearly groaned. “God, I still need to meet with him. He left his motorcycle with me to paint, and I’m supposed to call him tomorrow and schedule a time for him to come to the shop now that it’s finished.”
“Perfect.” Bridget’s gaze lit up. “When he gets there, you’ll look extra hot. And while he’s busy drowning in a puddle of his own drool, you’ll walk away with your head held high.”
The idea appealed to her on a feminine level, but Marquetta was a realist. “It’s a nice thought, but I’m not sure I have that much power over him.”
“Oh, I’m betting you do.”
Bridget’s confidence in her made Marquetta feel loads better. Unfortunately, Marquetta didn’t have a spine of steel like Bridget. The woman had even been able to walk away from a five-year marriage without falling apart. Bridget had learned that the man she’d given her heart and soul to had been messing around with a woman he worked with for a large part of their marriage. After a speedy divorce, Bridget hadn’t looked back. She was the strongest person Marquetta knew. If only Bridget could lend her a little of that strength now.
“It would be nice to make Jensen squirm, but I’m not sure that’ll happen,” Marquetta replied, wishing like hell she was wrong. “In fact, I’m pretty sure he never wants to look at me again.”
Her friend closed the dishwasher and hit a few buttons, then turned toward her. “You might be right, but it’s not like you have anything to lose. Might as well give it your best shot.”
Marquetta grinned. “You do have a point.”
Bridget nodded in approval. “Of course I do. Now, get dressed. I’m taking you out.”
Ah, a jostling crowd and loud music was exactly what Marquetta needed to take her mind off her troubled love life. “You don’t have to ask me twice,” she said as she headed toward her bedroom.
When Marquetta entered and flipped on the light, she tried really hard not to look at the bed. After sharing a bed with Jensen, sleeping alone seemed like a horrible idea. Still, her eyes strayed toward it and her stomach quivered in response. It looked pitifully empty. And even though he’d never set foot in her bedroom, Marquetta imagined she could smell his scent. It seemed to fill the room even now. His warmth, his masculinity. Damn, there went the tears again.
“Men are jerks,” she muttered as she headed to the closet. The sooner she was in a dimly lit room surrounded by strangers, the better.
Twenty minutes later, Marquetta was as ready as she’d ever be. She’d left her hair down and she’d pulled on a red blouse and tight black skirt. She checked her look in the mirror. “Crap,” she mumbled. The skirt was a tad too short and showed a too much leg for her comfort. When she went back out to the living room to get Bridget’s opinion, her friend waited with a glass of wine.
Bridget pushed it into her hand. “Drink. You need it.”
“I didn’t even know I had this in my kitchen.” Marquetta frowned at the ruby liquid. “Maybe I should stay home and get wasted instead.”
Bridget pointed a finger at her. “No, damn it. We’re going out, and that’s final.”
Marquetta took a sip of the wine, momentarily distracted from her misery by the smooth, fruity flavor. “Where’d you find this?”
“In one of your cupboards, dork.” Bridget swirled the wine and shrugged. “I’m pretty sure it’s the same bottle I bought you two Thanksgivings ago.”
Marquetta looked down at her skirt. “Does this outfit look okay? Not too…trampy?”
“Girl, you look hot as hell.” Bridget’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “In fact, maybe Jensen will show up at the bar and see you. I bet he’d swallow his big, fat tongue.”
Bridget’s wicked mind never ceased to amaze. Marquetta managed a smile. “I have a feeling Jensen wouldn’t like it if he saw me at a bar looking like this.”
“All the more reason, sweetie.” Bridget held out one perfectly manicured hand and said, “Come on, let’s go stir up a little trouble.”
