“Yeah, thankfully,” Chelsea agrees as her eyes sweep over the bar.
I have a feeling she may have had an appreciation for the silver fox that Hannah loves to hate.
“Why do you hate him so much?” she asks. “I mean I get the fact that he was your ex’s divorce attorney, but—”
“He’s a pompous ass who tried to take everything from me. Believe me, he has a reputation and my ex hired him because of that reputation. A surgeon’s salary and the house in North Shore wasn’t enough for my ex. He wanted my money and my trust fund, too. Thought he was entitled to it. After all the shit he pulled.” Hannah’s body tenses and I glance to Chelsea to with a look of warning.
Lucky for us the same waiter from last week comes by and places three vespers down on the table.
“Thank you,” Chelsea coos, her eyes taking him in.
He eye fucks her for a minute and then turns back around like he’s playing hard to get.
“Do not screw the wait staff here, Chels.” Hannah’s perfectly arched eyebrows raise.
“Never,” Chelsea says but fights the laugh that’s trying to escape.
“Let’s chat about Victoria,” Hannah says picking up her drink. Both sets of eyes shift to me.
“What?” I sip my vesper. The citrus taste is refreshing on my tongue and welcome with the inquisition I know is coming my way.
“You must be exhausted from dodging our questions for two days,” Chelsea deadpans.
“Fine. We agreed to try to be together.”
“Sounds romantic,” Chelsea says with an eye roll.
“Try?” Hannah asks.
“It was romantic, actually. And yes, we’re going to try the dating thing.” I take another sip to fortify myself.
“I’m proud of you,” Hannah says, her perfectly manicured hand running up and down my shoulder. “That takes guts. What did your ex say about it?”
“My ex?” I place the drink on the table.
“About the steak?” Chelsea adds.
“I haven’t mentioned it yet. It’s none of his business. Reed doesn’t even talk to Pete anymore.”
The two of them share a look across the table and return their attention back to me.
“You need to tell him,” Hannah says what I know they’re both thinking.
“What are you going to do say, ‘surprise, I’m screwing your best man?” Chelsea’s overdramatic display causes some heads to turn in our direction.
“He’s coming for Jade’s birthday, right?” Hannah lowers her voice.
“Yeah.”
“Do you think he’ll see Reed?” she continues her questioning.
“I hadn’t really thought about it.” My fingers knot in my lap.
Chelsea knocks on my head. “Hello? McFly!” She does a spitting image of the asshole in the Back to the Future movies. “Plan ahead because this is going to crash and burn if you leave it to fate.”
“We’re all adults. Pete doesn’t care who I date. It’s not like I get any say in who he sees. We’ve been divorced for two years.”
They both shake their heads.
“Do I have to knock on your head again?” Chelsea asks, sipping her own drink.
“No.” My hand covers my head. “Leave me alone.”
“Sweetie, your ex, Pete…” Hannah says softly and slowly like she’s speaking to a child. “Pete is not going to be okay with this. Especially because you have a daughter, which means his best man is going to be seeing more of his daughter than he is. I think you should tell him and nip this in the ass right away.”
“Otherwise, he shows up and gets a surprise and you’ll be breaking apart a brawl. But,” Chelsea says, leaning in. “If that happens, call me first. I love a good fight over a woman.”
I roll my eyes then sit and think for a minute. Maybe they’re right. “Okay. I guess I should tell Reed I’m telling Pete first, right?”
“If you want to keep ‘trying,’” Chelsea puts the word in quotation marks. “Definitely.”
I glance to Hannah’s whose head is bobbing up and down in agreement.
“In the meantime, let’s celebrate you getting laid on a regular basis.” Hannah raises her hand and then puts up three fingers.
The waiter spots her, and I down the rest of my drink. Telling Pete about Reed? How come this never crossed my mind before? Chelsea should be tapping my head to figure out if there’s anything else in there besides air and googly eyes for Reed.
Somehow hours later I end up at Reed’s condo. Connor stands from behind the desk when I manage to get my half-drunk body through the revolving doors after whizzing around two times and realizing I was back on the street.
“Ms. Clarke.” He rounds the desk and studies me. “I don’t have you on the list for tonight.”
“Do I need to be on the list?” I ask, using his desk to prop myself up.
“Well, Mr. Warner has a permanent list. Let me see if you’re on there.”
“A permanent list?” My gaze blurs to follow him walk back around the desk. He types into the computer and I inch over the edge of the tall desk. “Tell me Connor, just between us, are there any other women on that list?”
He glances up, his non-verbal scolding telling me my answer. He’s not at liberty to say. “Ms. Clarke,” he sighs. I’m not sure if he’s upset with my intoxication or my curiosity. “You are on the list but let me ring him just to make sure he’s home. I haven’t seen him this evening.”
Spotting the chairs in the lobby, I make my way over on unsteady feet and sit down. “Whatever you say, Connor.”
I hear Connor talking for a moment, then his voice turns hushed and I know he’s probably telling Reed what bad shape I’m in. I should’ve listened to Chelsea and Hannah, but they over-served me and I’m horny and on edge about telling Pete.
My eyes close and what feels like a second later my body is lifted like an angel has me in his arms.
“Thanks, Connor. I got it from here.”
Reed.
I release a contented sigh. My eyes flutter open and I see that he’s carrying me into the elevator. My hand runs along his stubble and I can’t fight the smile on my face. “It’s you.”
He chuckles. “Is this what girl’s night entails? Getting shitfaced?”
I rest my head on his strong shoulder and then somewhere between staring at his beautiful blue eyes and luscious lips, we’re in his condo, where he lays me down on the couch.
“Is this where I’m sleeping?”
“I need your phone, Victoria.” He places my purse on the table.
“Do you have another woman in your bedroom?” My eyes finally focus in on his shirtless self, pajama pants hanging way too low on his hips to be appropriate.
“What?” he asks with a crease in his forehead.
“Who’s on your permanent list?”
“My permanent list?”
I sit up and the room spins for a second.
Oooooooooogggghhhhhhhhofofofofofofofffff
A huge burp escapes and my hand flies up to my mouth. “Excuse me.” Even with how drunk I am, I feel the heat rushing up my neck to my cheeks.