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Whoa. “Definitely play the odds.”
She takes a sip of her champagne, the light in her eyes dimmed.
“Even if I lose it all… that’ll pack a pretty good punch too.”
“It would.”
We’re quiet for a moment, and then she downs the rest of her glass, points to my bourbon, and I down it too.
At her signal, the server brings two more.
“So, what’s first… throw my ring money away on a bad bet or find another Sexy Stranger— who I will fall intobedwith… and not just fast friendship?”
I rub the back of my neck. “You’re not really going to find some rando to revenge fuck, are you?”
It shouldn’t bother me. I don’t know why it does. I’m not taking her back to my room. I’ll never see her again. But watching her angle around in her seat, those sad blue eyes scanning the patrons of the bar with a scrutinizing stare, does something my gut can’t handle.
This girl deserves better than some shitty lay and an STD to remember it by.
“Yeah, I am.” She nods absently, eyes still on the crowd even though her lips are turned down at the corners. She’s no more impressed with the selection than I am. “Can’t take back all the meaningful things I gave him, but I can make them mean less.”
Fuck.
“Look, you’re beautiful. Funny. Sweet. You’re the kind of girl a decent guy would be lucky to have.” Maybe if I’d met her a month ago— No. “Why not wait for him? Give someone deserving what your fuckwit ex didn’t respect enough to hold on to.”
Folding her arms over the table in front of her, she levels me with a look that begs,Really?
“Do you seriously think… I’mever… going to set myself up forthisagain?”
I sure as hell won’t. So why would I want her to?
I shake my head and sit back with a nod. “Good for you.”
“That’s right, good for me. And what about you?”
“Nope.” And more than that? “You know what I think?”
She smiles, leaning in to hear. “What?”
“I think you’re lucky. In fact, that fuckwit did you a favor.”
Her head tips and one eye narrows. “Ehhh.”
“You got out. Before it was too late. Most people aren’t so lucky.”
I know five women who weren’t. Make that four. I can’t feel sorry for Jess.
I raise a brow and lean forward, glass in hand. I’m not sure how many drinks we’ve had because they keep clearing the empties, but I’m feeling them. And they feel pretty good. Almost as good as sitting here with this pretty girl who won’t tell me her name, likes me too much to take advantage of me, and whose brush with love has been as shitty as mine.
“You made it out. Congrats. Now, the trick is not to get sucked in again.”
She sighs, looking at the ceiling. “It seems so obvious, right? But we’re going to go home and it’s all going to start again. Friends and family with their campaigns to keep us from dying alone.”
“God save us from the well-intentioned.”
“Right?”
“Right.”
