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I’m not going to lie—the way my father looks at Donovan?
It’s with pride. It’s the son-I-never-had look.
And it stings. For reasons that feel like taffy on my molars.
Can’t win them all.
But I’ve got to admit—as someone who always had top grades, the best time on the swim team, the best everything, it’s hard to come second place in the eyes of my own father.
That’s a burn you can’t fix.
“I’m glad your friends could join us,” my father says. There’s something behind his tone, however, like a razor blade between the teeth. I can’t place it. And then he continues. “We had a surprise guest stop in. She’ll be joining us for dinner as well.”
“Who—?” I start, but then the glass doorway to the back patio slides open, and she steps inside.
My tongue rolls down my throat. My testicles retreat into my body. My toenails recede into my skin.
“Nadine,” I say, and the word cracks between my teeth like a tasteless, unsalted cracker.
When Nadine smiles, it’s with all of her teeth. “So nice to see you,” she says, addressing the crowd like a politician. When she sees me, her gaze flickers over me, from head to toe. “All of you.”
“Oh, no,” Donovan groans audibly. “The wicked bitch of the west.”
When he notices us all starting at him, he blinks.
“What? Did I say that out loud?”
69
Kenzi
Jason’s ex-wife is a goddess.
It’s really hard to put into words the kind of presence Nadine carries effortlessly through the house.
She’s easily the most beautiful woman I’ve seen. Ever. Dark hair. Olive skin. Perfect lips. A slender body fitted into a sleek, white dress. Fear a woman who drinks red wine while wearing a dress that white. She wears beautiful, big gold earrings that peek out from under her dark, wavy hair—is it L’Oreal? Or is she just worth it?
She smells like lilac and honeysuckle, and it’s a smell that entices you to lean in.
I can see why Jason fell in love with her. Hell—I’m half in love with her and I only just met her.
Or maybe it’s the pot brownie that’s kicking in.
Even as I dig into this smorgasbord of food in front of me—pesto pasta, grilled asparagus, stuffed mushroom, lightly dressed salad, and a chunk of bread roll—I have a hard time keeping my eyes off Nadine, who is sitting across from me. Every now and then, she catches my gaze and smiles.
She does the same thing Jason does—holds eye contact effortlessly. It’s a skill.
I imagine what they must have looked like together—every picture the perfect Christmas card. A power couple. Hashtag couple goals. To be honest, I hadn’t put too much thought into Jason’s divorce before, but now it’s driving me crazy. What went wrong?
She’s smiling at me again, and it takes me far too long to realize that it’s an expectant smile…she’s asked me a question, and now I’m sitting there like a dolt, fork in hand.
Reality to Kenzi. “Sorry?” I ask.
“What is it you do?” she repeats.
“Oh—well. I’m sort of…in between jobs at the moment.”
“She used to manage a high-profile band,” Jason says. “Serious, like…top billboards. But she had to drop it to take care of her son.”
