Page 62 of The Plus One Professional
“A while.”
“And how did you meet?”
Simon had a lot of questions, considering he was the guy who strung Bailey along for two decades.
“Was it online? An app or something?”
I didn’t miss the condescending way he said “app,” as if that were beneath him. Although, if I had to guess, I’d say that this asshole thought the clouds were beneath him.
“I saw her at a wedding about a year and a half ago, and that was it.”
“A year and a half?” he repeated, clearly surprised that it had been that long. “You’ve been together for a year and a half.”
“I didn’t say that. I said I saw her a year and a half ago, and that was it forme. It took some convincing for her to come around.”
“It’s strange,” he mused. “I never saw her being with a younger man.”
It was bold of him to make that statement when he had gray hair on his temples and was marrying a woman two years younger than I was. I’d heard Devin and her friends talking about how hard they’d partied for her twenty-second birthday, which had just passed.
“Age and maturity are two very different things. Which I’m sure you know. How old is Devin?”
Instead of answering my question, he said, “I don’t know if Bay mentioned it or not, but we used to date.”
“She did mention it,” I assured him with a grin.
His eyes narrowed, and I could see that he wasn’t done with this topic. He wanted me to know just how long they’d ‘dated.’
“We go way back. We were together in high school, and we’ve stayed inclose contactfor over twenty years.”
And there it was. The information he wanted to make sure I knew. He smirked, clearly feeling like he’d just gotten the upper hand.
“Simon! Come settle a bet for us!” A man, who from one look, I could tell peaked in college and was now spending every social occasion trying to relive his glory days, called out.
“See you out there.” Simon continued staring at me.
I nodded, maintaining our eye contact. This was a pissing contest, and there was no way in hell I’d be the one to look away first. He grinned, then turned and walked toward his friend.
As I watched him retreat, I felt a competitive drive swell up in me that I only used to get in big games, playoffs, or championships. Timmy and Finn golfed a lot, but I didn’t have the luxury of spending hours every weekend on the course. I had gone out with them a few times and picked up a thing or two. I prayed to the golf gods that my natural athleticism and excellent hand-eye coordination would allow me to wipe the smirk off Simon Prescott's face.
Then, I wanted to go back to the room and make love to Bailey. Again. And again. And again. If this weekend was all we had, I planned on making enough memories to last a lifetime.
25
BAILEY
“We don’t haveto do this,” Birdie repeated for the tenth time since we’d met in the lobby to head to the spa, where we were meeting Devin, her bridesmaids, her mother, and Mrs. Prescott.
“We were invited.” It was the only explanation I had. Did I want to spend the day with Devin and her twenty-something friends? No. But I didn’t want to seem petty, either.
“I don’t trust her,” Billie remarked, and not for the first time. She’d never wavered from her stance that Devin was up to no good.
“Trevor thinks this is a My Best Friend’s Wedding situation. She’s trying to keep Bailey close like Cameron Diaz did with Julia Roberts,” Birdie whispered conspiratorially.
“When didyoutalk to Trevor?” I asked.
“We’re on a group chat.” Birdie pulled her phone out of her pocket.
“You are?”
