“Cunt,” I mutter, because prick is too nice.
“He was with a girl who couldn’t have been more than twenty-one if she was even that old,” Avril says softly, gaze dropping back down. “All smooth skin and bendable limbs.”
“I’ll kill him,” Andrew vows, his hand going from Avril’s shoulder to curve around the back of her neck.
He pulls her into his side, and she capitulates. I envy the physical affection Andrew and Avril have always been able to show each other over the years a little bit. It’s totally platonic, but there’s something intimate about it. It’s caused some sparks of jealousy that he has just a slightly better connection with her than I do in that respect, but I try not to let it bother me too much. I’m simply incapable of that type of outward affection, although I love Avril deeply. Just as I love Andrew.
Sadly, having been raised for years inside the foster system, bouncing from house to house with families that didn’t really want me but just the money they got for taking care of me, I was never taught how to hug.
Or cuddle.
Or have whispered conversations with a confidant.
Those things are painful for me. I know because I’ve tried to do them, and it’s just not something that falls within my natural abilities. So, I try to compensate by letting my two best friends and business partners know how much I like them, respect them, and depend on them. I don’t hold myself back when we’re together or alone, having told them all my secrets about the way I grew up long before we all graduated from Berkley. I’m better with simple words of affirmation than I am with touching or sentiments.
And because they know me so well, they didn’t try to hug it out with me when they heard some of the worst of it. Andrew merely gave me a light punch on the shoulder and said, “Made you stronger, dude.”
Avril smiled at me in that understanding way and said, “Don’t let your past define you. But also, only be true to yourself.”
Those words were cryptic and at odds, but I’ve followed that advice as best I could over the years.
“Where’s Jamie now?” Andrew asks.
“I made him leave last night, of course,” Avril says. “Told him I’d have his stuff ready to pick up by the end of the day. When I closed the door behind him, I hit a few bottles of wine while I packed.”
“So, you’re just throwing it all out the front door?” I ask with a chuckle. For the first time, I see Avril’s lips curve up slightly.
“I didn’t tell Jamie what condition his stuff would be in,” she tells me with a sly smirk. “Just that it would be ready for him to pick up.”
Then she shrugs. “I was really drunk when I started packing his stuff up and carting it outside. You two are sort of downers, and now I’m losing my buzz. I probably need another drink.”
“No, you don’t,” Andrew and I say at the same time.
Avril purses her lips and whines. “Not fair.”
“I’ll make some coffee,” Andrew says as he pushes off the couch. “Then Dane and I are going to stay and help you finish. Then you’re coming into the office so you’re not here when he picks up his stuff.”
“There’s not much more to do,” Avril says as she stands with a regretful sigh. “Just his musical instruments upstairs.”
Jamie Priest considers himself a proficient musician and plays in a local band with a bunch of other stuffy white-collars who think it makes them marginally cooler. Avril had been dating Jamie for over three years. It’s the first time since I’ve known her that she’s been in love. In college, she seemed too awkward, and then she was just too devoted to Caterva to bother to date seriously. But in the last few years, she’s settled into her own. When she was introduced to the talented plastic surgeon by a mutual friend, it didn’t take her long to fall.
Personally, though, I sensed something wasn’t right because otherwise that fucker would have proposed to her by now. I’m sorry… but if you date a woman like Avril for three years and live with her for two of that without moving it to the next stage? Well, someone’s not fully invested in the relationship.
Avril would have said yes in a heartbeat because she’s more than once lamented her advancing age—although I roll my eyes at that since she’s only thirty-seven and that’s by no means decrepit—and that she wants to have children at some point before her ovaries dry up. Jamie knew she’d say yes, too, so it’s telling he never asked.
“You good with staying here?” I ask Andrew as I follow him and Avril into her kitchen. “I’ll head back into the office and cover.”
“Sure, man,” Andrew says lightly as he starts to work her state-of-the-art espresso maker. Another pinprick of envy hits me that Andrew is far more at home in Avril’s house than I am, and it’s just sort of naturally assumed he’ll be the one to take care of her.
But I don’t let that consume too many of my thoughts because I can be her white knight in a different way. It won’t be visible to her or Andrew, but it will make me feel fucking fantastic.
I intend to be here when Jamie comes to pick up his stuff, and he’s going to regret I’m the one he’s dealing with.
CHAPTER 2
Avril
I walk toward Andrew’s office. It’s a Friday night, and I would ordinarily be spending it with Jamie. Of course, that was my old life. Since I dumped his personal contents on my front lawn three days ago, I’ve been telling myself I have great things ahead of me. And while I believe my own hype, it doesn’t stop my chest from aching over the way he betrayed me.
I honestly thought he was the one. I clearly couldn’t have been more wrong.
About ten feet from the open doorway to Andrew’s office, I hear Dane’s deep baritone voice from within. “Come on, buddy… You have got to get back up on the horse. Your dick is going to shrivel up and fall off from lack of use.”
I choke down a sharp laugh, positioning myself just to the side of the doorjamb so neither of the men can see me. I have no qualms with leaning against the wall and eavesdropping on my two best friends discussing their love lives.
“It’s not like I’m celibate,” Andrew tells Dane.
“Oh yeah,” Dane says with just the right amount of snark. “When’s the last time you got laid?”
Andrew doesn’t respond, but I can hear him shuffling papers around on his desk.
Dane gives a bark of a laugh and taunts his friend. “Just as I thought… You can’t even remember the last time.”
I can absolutely imagine the look on Andrew’s face. A mixture of disgruntlement and pure embarrassment. It almost makes me feel sorry for him. But honestly, over the years, it’s become sort of a tradition for Dane to egg Andrew on and try to push him out of his comfort zone. I suppose that applies to sex as well.
“You’re coming with me to The Wicked Horse tonight,” Dane says. “It’s high time you experienced the best debauchery that Vegas has to offer.”
“I don’t need a sex club,” Andrew grumbles. “I’m perfectly fine finding a woman on my own.”
“No doubt you are,” Dane says in a somber tone. “But why not go somewhere where it’s a lot easier?”