I held up the bottle. “I’m going to drown my misery with expensive champagne that I didn’t pay for. Want to join me?”
Brett peered over one shoulder then the other. “I can’t. I think I need to schmooze a little longer.”
See? Brett was one of the good ones. He wouldn’t even try to talk me out of shirking my own duties, despite the fact that he had gotten me the job and held rank over me.
Since I was not one of the good ones, it wasn’t beneath me to try to change his mind. “You’re tucked in the corner by the bar with me. You’re already not schmoozing.”
“Well, I’m also trying to hide from Adrienne Thorne.”
I threw my head back and groaned, for his sake as well as mine. The blue-haired sexagenarian called the office at least once a week trying to land an appointment with Brett. His personal assistant had stopped taking her calls, and so she’d started calling the main line, meaning I was now the one making up excuses for why Brett couldn’t see her. “You should just tell her we’re never going to work with her and get it over with.”
“I have, Eden. Several times. She thinks she can change my mind.”
Because Brett was so nice that being dumped by him probably felt like an invitation to try harder to win him.
Poor guy. He couldn’t help being good-natured.
“Want me to beat her up?” I smoothed my hand down his tie, more to cop a feel than to straighten it.
Yeah, he wasn’t the guy for me, but he had a great body. Sue me for appreciating it.
I silently scored myself a point when he shivered. “I’m afraid you’d really do it, even if I said yes in jest.”
“I mean, it would probably cost me my job.”
A beat passed before we broke into laughter. Whether or not Scott Sebastian returned my affection, sleeping with the boss gave me the advantage. I’d one hundred percent been the one who’d gone after him, but the Sebastians were concerned enough about their image that they’d think twice before letting me go. And if I did get fired, I’d likely leave with a hefty paycheck.
Not that I’d ever accuse the guy of anything, but as long as he thought I might, and the possibility gave me job security, I wasn’t going to admit that I wouldn’t.
Thinking about my job gave me a second to consider sticking around like I was supposed to and helping Brett hide from Adrienne Thorne, for no other reason but that I liked his company, and he always cheered me up after Scott broke my heart.
But the notion was quickly dismissed when I saw the devil himself climb down the ladder and casually throw my panties in a trash can. Naturally, he hadn’t snagged anything, and he looked just as put together as he had when he’d gone up.
Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.
Brett followed my eyeline and stiffened when he saw what I was looking at. Who I was looking at.
Maybe he really would beat Scott up. If I asked him to.
I wouldn’t ask him to. I hated myself already for making Brett feel like he had to choose sides. Which didn’t stop me from returning to Scott time and time again like a beat-up boomerang, but it did compel me to defuse the current situation with distance.
As in, me distancing myself from the object of my affection before I ended up back at his side.
“Anyway”—I patted Brett’s chest like I was calming a ferocious guard dog—“you do that work stuff, I’ll be on the other side of the roof.” I nodded to the area at the far end of the party that had been roped off to store the extra boxes of alcohol so that the staff didn’t have to go inside when they ran out of vodka or scotch. I’d noticed a couch over there during setup, and right now the secluded spot was calling my name. “Join me later?”
“Yep.” I didn’t miss the longing that flashed through his eyes, as it did on occasion, but as always, I didn’t acknowledge it. He gestured to my champagne. “Save me some.”
“Sure.” I managed not to roll my eyes. He pretended he wasn't blue blood because he wasn’t as blue blooded as Scott’s branch of the Sebastian tree, but he’d grown up much more dignified than I had and preferred a dry wine to my dessert liquors.
Still, he’d drink it when he joined me. Whether to show his support or because he didn’t want me to drink it all alone and get wasted, I didn’t know.
Whichever his reason, I made sure to grab another bottle before taking off to solitude. It was early in the night, and I’d already been dumped by Scott. Again. I was not in the mood to have my drinking limited.
Chapter Two
I ignored two texts from my sister and her first phone call. When my dumb ass had grabbed the second bottle of champagne, I hadn’t made sure it was opened, and I couldn’t pop a cork for the life of me. After accidentally spilling half of the first bottle—yeah, it had been a night—I wasn’t drunk enough to deal with her.
But persistent witch that she was, she then did the call-let-it-ring-hang-up-immediately-call-again thing, and finally I’d been annoyed into answering. “What?”
“Did you get my message?”
“No, I’m working.” I mean, I was supposed to be working. She didn’t know that I wasn’t.
She made that sound that said she was as annoyed with me as I was with her, which only annoyed me more. “I need you to pick up some diapers on your way home.”
No please. No Can you. Just do.
I threw my head back and stared at the night sky, reminding myself I was in no position to be shitty to her since she currently let me live with her in her snazzy prime real estate Midtown location for a rent price that couldn’t be matched in the far reaches of the state. “How the fuck can you be out of diapers? You always get more than you need.”
I reminded myself not to be shitty. Didn’t mean I listened.
“I left a pack at the daycare today, and when I opened the one left at home tonight, I realized Nolan picked up a size for three-year-olds rather than size three. I didn’t even know they made them that size. Who even still has their three-year-old in diapers? I had to use duct tape to keep it on Finch. I could barely get his pajamas on over it. Poor thing looks like a bloated burrito.”
I smiled at the image of my nephew her words had conjured.
Then immediately frowned. Maybe if Avery wasn’t such a judgmental perfectionist, I’d feel more kindly toward her. She was probably berating herself for not being more prepared and screaming at Nolan for making the mistake in the first place. She needed a calm, understanding, supportive voice right now.
Obviously, she wasn’t going to get that from me. “Why can’t you send Nolan to get them? He’s the one who messed up.”
“He’s already asleep.”
I pulled my phone away from my ear to look at the time. It was barely ten. The guy was such a lightweight.
No, that wasn’t fair. My sister’s husband worked his ass off. It was his corporate salary that provided for my housing, and his generosity in letting me stay with him. Honestly, besides Finch, Nolan was my favorite thing about my sister. If it weren’t for him, I never would have met Brett. He’d been Nolan’s best man at their wedding a decade ago, and in my job as maid of honor, the two of us had been tasked with planning a lot of the activities together.