reaching into the bag swinging from her hand. “I’ve got four pints of ice cream, half a carrot cake, a whole box of Heart’s Edge truffles from Sweeter Grind, and...oh, yeah. The big guns. Wine or lemon vodka?”
“I’m...surviving, so it’s your call,” I say.
“You’re too pretty so don’t take this the wrong way, but lady...you look like a crap sandwich,” she says with a worried look.
“Thanks,” I say with a snort.
“That’s it. We’re baking a pie. I’m going to catapult it right in his face.” She sets the bag on the counter and starts pawing through my cabinets with a focus that makes me laugh.
“Brina, no. Just stay out of it.”
She turns back with a smirk. “You don’t mean that. If you did, I wouldn’t be here.”
Dragging myself over to the couch, I collapse again.
“True. But don’t make it worse. No point.”
“How could it be worse? He’s a giant heartbreaking douchebag with a billion dollars. Reason enough to take him down a peg or fifty.”
I shrug—but can’t because I’m sunk too deep in the couch.
“Also, you pied my husband. It’s my turn at the karma wheel serving up justice!”
“If Ward shows up here, then pie-bomb away. But don’t get too excited. He’s not brave like Mag. Also, I think he’d have to care first to come over, and he doesn’t.”
She sighs, then pulls out a couple glasses for the wine. “What exactly did he say? I saw the way he looked at you. Hard to believe it meant nothing.”
“He said it was time to end this before I got more obsessed. Oh, and he doesn’t love me or anyone else because he’s a freak who can’t fall in love.”
“Wow. At least he’s not subtle.” Brina hands me a wineglass filled to the top.
I throw back half my drink in one long toss, and choke when I remember a single glass of wine was what got me into this mess. Kinda.
Setting it down with a clink, I go back to leaving a Paige-sized impression on the sofa.
“Um, you might want to pace yourself,” Brina says, lowering her wine. “If you need water...”
“It’s like the opposite of last year, isn’t it?” I ask morosely, ignoring her offer.
“Last year?” She acts like she doesn’t get where I’m going. “Oh. That worked out pretty well after a mountain of drama, didn’t it? There’s nothing my husband won’t do for me, and I don’t mean to brag, but...knowing what we had to lose just made us stronger.” She smiles, transported to a better place than my miserable apartment.
I lift the bottle from the table and top off my glass. “Yeah, well, no happy endings here.” I grab the remote from the arm of the couch and turn on Netflix. “What’s a good break up movie?”
“Something funny. You’ll feel better if you laugh.”
My phone rings.
It’s on the couch between us.
Brina picks it up and glances at the screen. “Liv?”
“My cousin.” I sit up and break from drinking my weight in wine, holding my hand out.
She nods and hands me the phone.
“Hello?” I say.
“Paige, are you okay? You sound funky.”
“I’m fine, my throat’s a little dry,” I lie, hoping her author spidey-sense doesn’t lead her to interrogate me.
“You sure? You’re not sick?”
“Nah,” I say. “What’s up?”
“Riker got your dirt and the okay from the big boss to keep things nice and neat legally. He’s going to email you pictures and documents. But I thought I’d just give you the rundown, so you know what you’re looking at.”
“Awesome,” I say, wishing I were brave enough to slam the door shut on helping the man who took a chisel to my heart.
“You’ll find bank statements and stock options for Victor. If you know what you’re looking at, it shows enough insider trading to buy some major jail time. And if it’s not, that’s okay. Because his investment in a shady biker bar in Florida that went down a few years ago in Federal RICO drug dealing charges will definitely mean prison.”
Ouch.
It’s almost anticlimactic hearing this now, but excitement flares through me before I remember my stake in this is gone.
“Wow. That’s crazy interesting. What else?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice level.
“Check out the pics of Giselle Simms in the car. She’s driving a vehicle registered to her boyfriend. She goes everywhere she wants in that ride and parks it at her house at the end of the day. Here’s the fun part: she lost her license years ago after hitting a pedestrian.”
“What the crap?” I gasp.
“I hope