“Funny.”
“Seriously, what I want is for Cain to give me time to come around to the idea of attempting to trust him again. And I want to do it without giving Sly up.”
The typing on the other end of the phone ceased, and without realizing it, I had stopped walking, too.
“Rosie—” Elle started, but I cut her off, knowing her well enough to know what was coming.
“I know, Elle. I don’t love Sly, so I should cut him loose. But he’s like my favorite fuzzy blanket—warm and familiar, and comforting. It’s not even about the sex, though that doesn’t hurt, obviously. I just don’t want to say goodbye to him yet.”
“But is that fair to him?”
“I’ve told you about our arrangement…”
“Yes, but if the tables were turned, wouldn’t it hurt a little knowing you were his second choice? You’re treating him like a placeholder, Rosie.”
The accuracy of her words stung. She was right, like she usually was, and I desperately wanted to ignore it. So I did what I do when I don’t get my way—I lashed out. “Like you did with Noah when you were so hung up on Ryder you couldn’t think straight?”
That actually wasn’t exactly how her story went, but close enough.
God, I was a bitch.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized immediately, sighing loudly. “That was fucked. You know I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did, but it’s okay. You forget, I know your defense mechanisms, which means I’ve also learned to let them roll off my back. But don’t be a B, my friend. You know I’m here for you, always.”
“Always,” I repeated, because that’s the thing about best friends—you can show them your ugly and they’ll show you theirs, then you move forward together.
Too bad all relationships weren’t like best friendships.
“So what are you going to do about Cain now that you’ve all but told him you’re willing to give him another chance?” she asked, the sound of her fingers dancing across her keyboard beginning again.
Rounding the aisle, the check stand came into view, and I made a beeline to it, suddenly feeling like the store was closing in around me. Shifting the phone back to my shoulder, I placed the contents of my shopping trip onto the conveyor belt and muttered into the speaker, “I have no idea.”
* * *
It was still early,and yet the bar exploded with activity. People were crammed anywhere they could fit, whether it be the bar, a high-top, or the dance floor. Everywhere I looked, gazing out from my office, I was picking up on so many different vibes; I thought my head would explode.
Curiosity.
Lust.
Drunken stupors.
Irritation.
Happiness.
You name it, someone’s face had it written all over it.
Andromeda was wild tonight.
Thank goodness I had the sense to fully staff the place and schedule everyone to work this weekend. My employees drifted around, working discreetly to keep the bar looking pristine and keep the alcohol flowing. Behind the bar, Indy and her team mixed and poured without even breaking a sweat.
Still, the mood that was radiating through the crowd was one I couldn’t ignore: shit was on the road to getting rowdy. Which around here meant one thing.
Someone, if not multiple someones, was going to get dicked tonight.
By me.
