The Mix-Up (Southern Hearts Club #3) - Melanie Munton Page 0,8

the earth with a tragic and sickening splat.

I did end up going to Harper and West’s celebratory rooftop party at The Oak Tavern in downtown Charleston—thankfully, without running into Ryder—but only long enough to find my girls. If anyone could help me sort out the mess in my head, it’s Sloane, Harper, and Quinn. I relayed the whole sordid tale, short of getting too deep into the nitty gritty land of emotions. Baring my soul, even to my best friends, is not something I make a habit out of. I felt uncharacteristically shy when I revealed the secret I’ve been keeping from them for ten months. That I slept with my bastard of a boss.

Only I didn’t.

And that’s fucking with my head.

Oh, and drugs help? Before you know it, you’ll be smoking that awful crack cocaine.

The expense of renovating the master bathroom in my loft last year was exorbitant but so incredibly worth it. Bubble baths are a luxury I refuse to ever give up, no matter where I live. So, the first thing I blew serious cash on after starting at TCG was this badass tub. It’s big enough to fit three NFL linebackers inside, with tiled steps leading up to it. It’s the kind of bathtub I imagine the ancient Greeks would have approved of.

I sip my wine as I lean against my bath pillow, allowing the weed to work its blissful magic on my muscles. My limbs languidly float in the steaming water, my fingertips tingling with the release of stress and tension.

Then my blasted phone rings.

Nothing disturbs quiet time in my happy place, dammit. Someone is taking their very life into their hands.

I’m seconds away from drowning the thing in the bath water. Replacing it would be a bitch, though. With a begrudging sigh, I set my wine glass onto the wooden tray laid across the tub and place my tightly rolled joint in the ash tray. After glancing at the screen, I answer the call and put it on speaker.

“Did running off that roof in a complete panic not clue you in to the fact that I need to be alone with my thoughts?” I answer in lieu of a greeting.

Sloane huffs over the line. “That’s exactly why I’m concerned. Leaving you alone with your thoughts usually leads to me either bailing you out of jail or confiscating all the potential weapons in your loft.”

“You can relax, babe. I’ve locked up all my razor blades and butter knives.”

A beat of silence comes through the speaker. “I’ve just never seen you like that before, Gretch.”

I chuckle mirthlessly.

Yeah, she’s never seen me lose my shit before. None of my friends have. I’m always chill and laidback, even under the heaviest of pressure. Cloaking my discomfort with inappropriate humor and indifference. That’s me. Cool-as-a-cucumber Gretchen. Doesn’t get emotional. Doesn’t get riled. Never off her game because she’s such a pro at playing it.

But at that rooftop bar earlier tonight, I looked like Tony Montana from Scarface, minus the machine gun.

“A moment in time, babe,” I purr in my I’m pretending that I’m okay so you don’t freak out any more than I am voice.

I’ve perfected the act over the past ten years. Throwing up on the inside, throwing out snark on the outside. No one can ever tell the difference. When I don’t want to answer questions, I ensure that none need to be asked.

Distract, deflect, disengage.

“It was one small slip,” I assure my best friend. “Nothing to be concerned about. I’m dandy now.”

“Right,” Sloane snorts. “You know, I’m starting to get insulted that you think I don’t know you well enough to see when something is bothering you. It kind of hurts that you’re always pushing us away, Gretch. Especially when you need us.”

Her words are sobering. “I came to you guys tonight to talk.”

Which is a big deal for me, considering the fact that I knew there was a strong possibility of bumping into Ryder at that party.

“Yeah, but the second we started asking how you actually felt about the situation with your boss and his brother, you clammed up like you always do and lit out of there like your ass was on fire.”

I close my eyes in guilt, feeling admonished. “I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about it first. It’s still fresh. I’m not ready to discuss whatever emotions may or may not exist in this scenario.”

She sighs. “Fine. I’ll leave you to process things in your Bathtub Fortress of Pot