“This was hand-delivered. How does he know where I live, Jess?”
“He’s Chad Mason,” she states simply with a half-shrug.
I snicker mirthlessly because it’s true. Dumb question. There isn’t anything my ex can’t get if he sets his mind to it. His family is sports royalty and he’s following along in their regal footsteps. Money, women, fame, it’s all at his fingertips and he eats it up with his golden spoon.
And for two years, I was the one he wanted.
The woman on his arm. The one he doted on and made feel special. We planned a future together. Had it all mapped out.
Until it all went bad. Real bad.
“Do you think Marni’s decapitated head is in here?”
Jess glances over to me, her eyebrows knit. “Like in Seven? I think that’s a bit too dramatic for him. He likes to profess his love in much subtler ways.”
I scoff at that, bristling hard. Like so hard my whole body hurts. “Yeah. Like by fucking Marni behind my back.”
“Like that. Though we don’t know they actually fucked.” I glare and she shrugs, pushing on. “But it can’t be Marni’s head because she didn’t move out to LA with him like you did. She’s in New York.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I grimace.
Chad and I were ecstatic at the draft when LA took him in the top ten. It all felt so perfect. So meant to be. Lyric said LA or New York. My choice. He got drafted and I picked LA. Now I’m here and so is he but we’re not together because he’s a lying, cheating piece of shit.
She nudges the box with her knuckles. “This won’t open itself.”
“I’m going to need a lot of alcohol tonight. And greasy food. I want to cook a feast, but I’m not sure I’m up for it anymore. I might want to do takeout.”
She gasps. “No.” Her hands go to her chest. She’s mocking me now.
“Shut up.” I laugh lazily.
“I’m thinking you’re absolutely perfect and no man should drive you to drink or do takeout. But if that’s what you need, I’m in because that’s like my faves candy on Halloween.”
I breathe out a laugh, leaning over and kissing my girl on the cheek.
Then I go at it.
The perfect satin bow falls gracefully away with a gentle tug. The white lid so easily removed. There is no tissue paper inside. Just a stack of things I find myself staring stupidly at.
“It’s his jersey,” I mutter bewilderedly.
“Both college and NFL from the looks of it.”
“I burned the college one I used to wear.”
“He’s replacing it. There’s a note, but we can get to that later. I’m kinda hung up on the jewelry box.”
Yeah. Me too.
With a shaky hand, I reach in for the small rectangular box. I already have a good idea what it is, and knowing it’s not the diamond, I open it, hating that I was right. It’s the necklace he gave me on our one-year anniversary.
It’s our names in delicate script overlapping in platinum and diamonds. When he gave this to me, I cried and vowed never to take it off. Until I caught him cheating. Then I ripped the thing from my neck and threw it in his face. He obviously had it repaired, as the platinum chain is once again perfect.
“Does he honestly expect I’ll wear these and not have a bonfire with them as the guests of honor?”
Jess taps her bottom lip in contemplation. “I think this is his alpha way of saying you’re still his.”
“Funny, I didn’t get that impression when I found Marni’s lips wrapped around his dick.”
It was more than that though. So much more than that betrayal.
Setting the necklace back inside the box, I close it up and shove the whole damn thing away. I’m not that girl anymore.
I turn to my best friend and meet her worried gaze. “Forget what I said about takeout. Let’s get dressed up and go out.”
“Hell yeah!” She springs off the couch like a cattle prod just lit up her ass. “Let’s do this. Girls’ night out. No men allowed. We’re going clubbing. I know the perfect place.”
Four
EDEN
Chilled tequila slides effortlessly down my throat, the mild bite on the backend welcome as I lick my lips and set my empty glass down. The pulsing beats of the brilliantly spun techno and trip-hop pulses across my skin as the tequila warms it from within. My eyes momentarily close, listening closely to the way the DJ mixes this particular track.
He’s good. I was watching him for a while when we first got here.
“Just go and introduce yourself to him already,” Jess yells so I can hear her.
“I will. Not yet though. Never interrupt a DJ in the middle of a set.”
“Words to live by,” she snorts. “Shit, I’m buzzing already.” I open my eyes and fix them on my friend who is clinging mercilessly to her lime like it’s her saving grace before smacking her lips. “Whoa! I should have had more to eat.”
We both likely should have. We split an order of nachos and each had a taco salad. Well, and two margaritas. My stomach was still in knots over the afternoon I had, and Jess is on a student budget. I didn’t cook. Cooking is my thing but instead, we went out and I don’t think that was in either of our best interest.
“Which reminds me, why are we doing shots?” she asks.
“Because that’s all I do in clubs as you know. I don’t dance with drinks in my hands that someone can spill all over me or slip something into. Plus, they’re always insanely watered down. If I’m going to pay these kinds of prices for a drink, I want alcohol in it.”
“That makes so much sense, it’s almost frightening I never asked you before. But only one more and then I’m done. I can’t drink the way you can.”
“That’s a good thing, my friend. And your liver thanks you for it.”
She laughs. “Hashtag truth.”
My drinking prowess was legendary in college. High school too actually, but we don’t talk about my teenage drinking heroics anymore. In college, it became a bit of a thing. It’s actually how I caught Chad’s eye in the first place. I was drinking two of his teammates, his much larger offensive linemen teammates, under the table to the tune of a hundred bucks each. I mentioned the chick from Indiana Jones and I was not kidding.
I’m not sure if it’s a Dawson thing or a high metabolism thing or what, but all of my siblings are like this. Alcohol hits us slow and burns off quick.
I flag down the bartender and wave my finger in the air, using the universal sign for one more round.
“Another tequila, ladies?” he asks, giving Jess a sly flirtatious grin. I have no doubt he gives that same smirk to all his female patrons, hoping they’ll flirt back, drop a number, and a back-room BJ all the while over-tipping him.
“Yes,” Jess exclaims. “But two for her and one for me.” I throw her a side-eye, and she winks at me before turning back to him. “You’re cute,” she states with the slightest hint of a slur as she blinks rapidly, slightly wide-eyed with a flush on her cheeks. “Are you single?”
His smirk turns into an adorable smile complete with twin dimples, and I think Jess might just fall in love with him tonight.