“I already did.”
I shook my head. If this is what it took to be friends with a girl who’d managed to get under my skin three years ago and stay there, then yeah, I was intrigued.
I signed it and pushed it back to her.
She pushed it back. “No, that’s your copy.” She got another napkin and redid the entire thing, putting her copy in her purse.
This was serious to her. I grinned.
After all copies were put away, she lifted her milkshake up in the air. “A toast to friendship with a guy I once had a three-night stand with.”
I smiled. “May the odds be ever in our favor.”
She giggled, and we clinked drinks.
My eyes landed on her full lips as she wrapped them around her straw.
What had I gotten myself into?
AFTER DAX AND Spider had seen us off in a cab, Lulu and I headed to The Tower Hotel. A few blocks from our destination we saw the majestic Tower of London all lit up, and because I was still wired, we stopped and hopped out to walk the rest of the way back to the hotel. It felt safe since a few people were still milling around the street, taking in the illuminating glow of the historic building. My foot throbbed slightly, but I knew from experience it wasn’t bad. I powered through the ache with determination.
Half an hour later, we walked in the lobby around three in the morning. Thankfully most of the guests were sleeping. My bruises had continued to darken as the night progressed, and I could only imagine what they’d think if they saw me with a giant t-shirt and flip-flops. Wild American girls.
Lulu dragged along beside me as we hopped in the elevator and headed to her room on the twelfth floor. I was on the fifteenth in the honeymoon suite. It sucked we were so far apart, but the hotel had had limited rooms to choose from considering we’d made her reservations at the last minute. She’d been the one that had insisted on separate rooms, mostly because she wanted me to get lucky. And she had plenty of money since her parents were big in the country music scene in Nashville.
She leaned against the wall of the elevator, obviously exhausted as she gazed at her phone, checking social media. Her mouth was uncharacteristically turned down. She suddenly straightened. “What the heck?”
“What?” I craned my neck to see what she was looking at, but she swiped the photo away on Instagram. “Was that Hartford?” I asked, a sinking feeling growing in my stomach.
“Shit. Yes.”
“Is he with someone?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. You know how hard it is to interpret social media. It’s fake and filtered. You can’t believe half of it.”
I scowled. “Show me the pic or I’ll just bring it up on my own phone.”
Sighing, she scooted over next to me and swiped her phone back to the photo. It was Hartford at Cadillac’s, one of the local college bars at Whitman. Next to him—right on top of him—wearing an overly brightly smile was a perky blonde with super white teeth.
“That’s Katrina Somebody. She’s in most of his pre-med classes,” I said, clicking on the picture, taking in every single pixel, looking for large pores or a flaw on her perfect face.
Was she prettier than me? Smarter? Funnier?
Bottles of beer littered the table and several people photo-bombed in the background. Were they together, together?
I searched Hartford’s smile, his eyes, looking for a clue. His sandy-blond hair had recently been trimmed and his jaw was shaven. Wearing a plaid button-down shirt I’d never seen before, he radiated confidence; no sign of the conflicted guy who’d told me he needed to think about us before he made a final commitment.
Lulu shrugged. “He captioned it #studybuddy #goodtimes.”
I flattened my lips, studying how Katrina’s hand curled around his arm, how his head tilted in her direction.
I looked at the date of the posting. Our wedding night.
Emotion poured in, making my chest freeze. I took deep breaths and braced myself against the cold wall of the elevator.
It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s just the guy you spent two and a half years on out with someone else.
I wanted to throw up.
“Remi, I’m sorry,” Lulu said, a pained expression on her face. “I’m just messing up your entire night, aren’t I?”
“I’m fine.” I breathed out, handing the phone back to her.
At least I wasn’t tossing out expletives, beating my fists on the walls, or crying. Definitely progress.
“You’re