Maddie: Did. You. Just. Kiss. Me?!?!
I knew my message would be left unanswered, so I placed my phone in my lap and tucked into my starter, an extra cheesy onion soup. Chase took a breath from his business meeting story, and it was Katie’s turn to tell him about how someone from the marketing department had screwed up so badly they’d had to can the entire fall catalog and start from scratch. Chase’s eyes drifted down, a small grin tugging at his lips as his fingers began to fly across the screen of his phone.
Katie finished her story. Chase countered it with a story about how Julian and Ronan had once gotten food poisoning in the middle of an event and thrown up directly into an investor’s lap. There was still no message back from him. I looked down to my phone every few minutes, confused.
“Do you have any embarrassing stories, Maddie?” Katie asked.
My head snapped up. I felt like I’d been called out on not being present in the moment. I cleared my throat, trying to recover. “Sure do.” I side-eyed her brother. My blood was boiling with rage, but Katie didn’t know that. She perched her chin on her hand, ignoring the main course they’d just served us—ratatouille—waiting for my delightfully funny input.
“You want an embarrassing story? Okay. So I was dating this guy back in the day . . . he was a real tool,” I added, letting out a metallic laugh. Katie followed along, sending Chase an oh-my-God-so-juicy wink. “I have to say, we weren’t exactly a match made in heaven from the get-go, but I wanted to see where it was going. Plus, I was under the impression we were serious. He gave me a key to his apartment, like, three months in.”
“Maybe it made logistical sense to him,” Chase said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink. He glanced at Katie uncertainly, like he and she were privy to something I wasn’t.
I shot him a polite smile. “Sorry, honey, is this your story or mine?”
His jaw worked. His eyes clouded with warning.
Don’t screw it up for me, they said. But I was past doing what was good for him—or for me. I was unhinged with vengeance. With bitterness that simmered in my body and rose up, spilling from my mouth after months of tears.
I turned back to Katie. “So I am dating this guy, and he gives me keys to his apartment. It’s his birthday. I’m thinking, I’m going to surprise him in the most romantic, sexy way . . .”
Katie laughed. “Snap, Chase, you may want to cover your ears for this next part.”
“Don’t worry. He knows this story well.” I speared him with a look, ready for my punchline. “I knew he went drinking with his friends. I waited for him in his bed, wearing nothing but the pair of Louboutin heels he bought for me earlier that month, a red thong, and a lacy black bra—you know, to match the heels—sprawled on his bed next to a white chocolate cake I made for him—”
“That made a mess all over his bed.” Chase cut into my speech, then quickly backpedaled when Katie turned her head to look at him. “I’m guessing. Who puts a cake on a fucking bed?”
“To make a long story short,” I bit out, drawing Katie’s attention back to me again, “it turned out he didn’t need my company after all, because he stumbled into the bedroom with a woman who wasn’t me. Oh, and had a lipstick stain on his dress shirt. How cliché, right?” I smiled bitterly, reaching for Chase’s whiskey—he was the only one who’d ordered a stiff drink—gulping it down in one go, and slamming it on the table. “How’s that for embarrassing?”
By the look on Katie’s face, horror mixed with pity and something else I struggled to read, I could tell that was not the kind of story she’d had in mind. Katie put her hand on mine, trying to catch her breath. I realized, albeit a little too late, that my eyes were glistening. I was holding back tears. But it made no sense at all. I was completely over Chase. I was.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you, Maddie. There is just no excuse.”
“None,” I agreed cuttingly, gulping my breaths, one fat inhale after the other. “None whatsoever.”
“This is . . . heartbreaking,” Katie said quietly. “So my guess is you didn’t stick around beyond that.”
I snorted. “You’re guessing correctly. You know what they say—once a cheater, always a cheater.”
“That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard,” Chase interjected, signaling the waiter to refill his drink with a wave of his hand. “That’s like saying that anyone who is involved in accidental manslaughter is a serial killer.”
“Cheating is not accidental,” I pointed out. “It’s plain selfish.”
“There are two sides to every story,” Chase bit back, color staining his chiseled cheekbones. “Maybe if you bothered talking to the guy—”
“He seemed preoccupied with someone else at the time.” I ripped off a piece of bread and shoved it into my mouth. He still hadn’t answered my text message about the kiss. Katie looked between us, her jawline rigid, her posture surprisingly tight. I saw it in her face. The second she decided to let the subject drop and pretend like we hadn’t stepped into a huge mine of feelings and secrets.
“So . . .” She cleared her throat, looking around us. “Seeing as you’ve now moved on with Chase . . . when are you thinking of getting married? Is there a date?”
“No date. Nope,” I drawled, still holding Chase’s bluest-shade-of-blue gaze. “We’re thinking of taking a long time. You know, for planning and stuff.”
“Like, a year?” Katie asked.
“More like a decade,” I bit out.
I knew I was letting our charade slip and wished I could restrain myself. I genuinely wanted to make friends with Katie. Take her shopping and spend time with her, independently from how my fake engagement with Chase was going to pan out. I was just taken off guard by how Chase had shown up here, screwing this up for me, and then kissed me without permission, which had totally bent me out of shape.
I massaged my temples and closed my eyes, letting out a growl. “I think I’m coming down with something. How about I make it up to you later this week, Katie?”
“Sure.” She looked between us.
When I opened my eyes, I saw Chase was taking care of the bill. I tried to pay my part, slide my credit card his way, but he just put his hand on mine and smiled at me.
“Never, sweetheart.”
“Such a gentleman.”
“You have no idea.”
“That”—I sat back, fighting the urge to throttle him—“is true.”
That’s what happens when you muster some sympathy for the devil, I thought bitterly. He drags you to hell, and you get burned.
Mothers of brides all over America were going to buy fuzzy-looking dresses with angry, sharp lines that fall. My designs were not up to par with my usual clean, romantic style.
I was so furious after the meal with Chase and Katie that I ripped three papers while trying to sketch. I was sitting in front of a blurry shape of the female body—no stitch of clothing on it yet—when my phone pinged with a message.
Chase: I bet you’re still thinking about that kiss.
Maddie: I chugged bleach as soon as I got back to the office. It helped, a little.