“Did you go to the wedding?” she asked quietly. She looked destroyed on my behalf, and I wanted to slap my own face. Because to me, it didn’t really matter. It was water under the bridge. The Amber-Julian blow was nothing more than a faded scar these days.
“I was the best man.” I smirked. “Showing them I gave a fuck wasn’t on the menu for me.”
“Mr. Black! Miss Goldbloom! Would you mind?” Becky yelled in the background, and I realized, albeit belatedly, that we’d been having the last ten seconds of conversation with our lips hovering against one another. I pulled back, feeling flushed like a middle schooler who had been caught trying to figure out the ins and outs of masturbation. Madison looked down at her feet, turning deep red.
“Sweet nothings,” Becky repeated sternly, waving her camera in her hand. “Save the PDA for the honeymoon. Where is your honeymoon, by the way?”
“Malta,” Madison said.
“Fiji,” I said at the same time.
We both frowned at each other. I fought a smile. “Malta?”
“I want to take the Game of Thrones tour. You know, where they filmed big portions of the show. Fiji?”
“Yeah, I want to get a tan, get drunk, and bury myself inside you on the sand.”
“Oh, Lordy.” Becky looked like she was about to faint. “Focus! Sweet nothings. Not dirty nothings. Sweet.”
I moved my lips back to Mad’s ear. The thing about us, Madison and me, was that our bodies seemed to be in complete sync with one another. She turned around again and pressed against me, the curve of her ass touching my erection, and I stifled a curse, breathing through my nose and trying to think about sad things to stop myself from grinding all over her.
Children living below the poverty line.
Climate change.
Starving bears.
Dad.
The last one did it. Becky returned to her place beyond the bright light aimed at the white screen, click-clicking her camera from the shadows.
“So Amber broke you,” Mad whispered.
“I think I was already broken, but yeah, she was definitely the final hammer to smash any romantic bone I had in my body.”
“I hate her,” Mad said.
I didn’t. I felt nothing toward my ex-fiancée, whom I’d spent the majority of my college years with.
I had to do something to take the Amber edge off. I didn’t want to talk about her or Julian. It wasn’t even the heartbreak that had made me swear off love. It was the embarrassing aftermath. The gossip mill. The humiliation.
Poor Chase got dumped.
Never was quite as hardworking and hungry as Julian.
They say Amber had to make it official with his brother because he impregnated her while she was still engaged to Chase.
Maybe Chase didn’t deliver you-know-where.
Chase might’ve cheated first. She just did what was best for her.
I forgave Julian when he asked for forgiveness. He was the older brother I looked up to, and I was determined to let it slide and work things out between us. It was Amber I had the issue with. The fickleness of love, of what I thought love was, rubbed me the wrong way. I was infatuated with Amber in the way thirteen-year-old boys were crushing over the biggest pop star in the world. She had the looks and the lust for life, and I had the funds and ability to yank her out of her small town, thrusting her into the glamorous life she’d always dreamed of. After a brush with the four-letter word with Amber, I’d decided I wasn’t a huge fan of letting someone into my life, not when the risk of watching them go was possible. All Amber had needed was the faintest hint that the horse she’d bet on wasn’t going to win, that Julian was going to make it to the CEO finish line before me, and she’d dumped my ass to the curb.
Dad’s illness was a bitter reminder that love was not on the menu for me.
Love = pain.
Pain = suffering.
Suffering = not today, Satan. Not today.
I pressed my lips to Madison’s ear. She was staring at the camera, still smiling, but from my vantage point five hundred feet above her (she really was that small), I could see the horror of being stuck here for eternity in her eyes.
“I want to do very dirty things to you.”
She quivered, and I smiled, my teeth tracing the shell of her ear.
“In the shower,” I continued. “You could sit on my shower bench while I eat you out.”