her too much. But she’s… and I’m… and now she’s mad.”
“What’s her story? How’d she end up back here anyway?”
“She was dating her agent. Found out he’d been cheating on her.”
“What?” Her voice went flat and suddenly she seemed a lot more sober.
“Isn’t that bullshit? Who would cheat on Skylar? I don’t know what the fuck his problem was.”
“Who is he?”
I took another drink of my beer. Not that I needed it. “Cullen something.”
“He was her agent?”
“Yeah, you know, publishing deals and shit.”
Cara got out her phone and started typing something. “Do you know what he looks like?”
“I think so. Maybe? But I don’t know if I can remember right now.”
She held up her phone. “This him?”
I squinted to keep the image from going blurry. It didn’t help much. Too much fucking whiskey. But I recognized the douchey face. “Thass him.”
“Fucker,” she muttered, then hiccupped. “He’s so going down. Who’s the other woman?”
I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to think. “Another writer. Poppy? No. Penelope? No.”
“Pepper Sinclair?”
“Yes.” I poked her shoulder. “Thass her. How did you know?”
“She’s on his client list on the agency website.” Her lips turned up in a wicked smile. “I’m going to bury these two.”
Something in the back of my mind told me that maybe I should tell Cara not to. That if Grace were around, she probably would. But Grace wasn’t around, and I was really drunk. And hell, I wanted Cara to bury that fucker for what he did to Skylar.
So I smiled back. “Get ’em, tiger.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing.” She put away her phone and had to steady herself on the bar again. Apparently she wasn’t that sober. “I’ll make him pay.”
I stumbled off my stool. “I should go home. My kitten needs me.”
“Let me get you a ride.”
“No.” I waved my hand and almost knocked myself over. “I’ll just walk. Iss not far.”
“Gavin—”
I started toward the door. “I’m fine. I’m always fine. I’ve got this.”
25
Skylar
The blank screen mocked me with its emptiness. I didn’t know why I was sitting at my desk staring at my half-finished manuscript. It wasn’t like I was going to be able to write. For one thing, there was no Gavin sitting behind me, somehow lulling my brain into a state of relaxed creativity.
For another thing, no Gavin at all.
I’d been miserable since we’d talked this afternoon. Thankfully, Dad was at work and Mom was out, so I’d come home to an empty house. I’d been able to cry in peace. But even a good, hard cry hadn’t completely cleansed me of my misery.
I often used writing to help me cope with my fears, but it wasn’t working to help me cope with this, whatever this was.
Because honestly, what was wrong with me? Gavin hadn’t broken up with me. There hadn’t been a relationship in the first place. Maybe I was subconsciously projecting hurt from Cullen onto this situation. I didn’t know why I’d be doing that, but it made a little bit of sense. More than me coming home and ugly crying because a guy I was friends with and had slept with once wanted to back up and stick with being just friends without the sex.
I even understood. I wasn’t ready for a relationship, so why couldn’t Gavin and I just press rewind and go back to where we were last week? Just friends who liked to hang out. That had been fun. What was wrong with that?
It wasn’t what I wanted. That was what was wrong with it.
Only, I wasn’t sure what I did want.
Actually, when I thought about it—really thought about it—that wasn’t true. I did know. It was just very unlike me to want it.
I wanted to be friends with Gavin. And I wanted him to fuck my brains out occasionally.
Rushing in to a serious relationship was probably not the best idea. But Gavin didn’t want a serious relationship either. He’d said he wasn’t boyfriend material—which for the record, he was, I had no idea why he thought he wasn’t—but I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend anyway.
I always played it safe and right now, I didn’t want to. I wanted to be a little reckless.
Ginny’s words came back to haunt me, as they often did when she was trying to push me out of my comfort zone. If you don’t go after what you want, you probably won’t get it.
She was right.
My phone rang, but I didn’t recognize the number. That was odd. I was going to ignore it,