Page 92 of One Billion Reasons

“It’s not romantic. It’s deranged. Also, you hate him.”

“First of all, I don’t hate him. This apartment has done wonders for my opinion of him. Plus, he’s clearly in love with you even if he’s a complete idiot who can’t admit it. Just think about it for a minute.” She rolls over onto her stomach and pokes me in the side with one manicured finger.

“I’m listening.”

“Let’s say, theoretically, that Miles has loved you for a decade. How much time were you single during those years?”

I think back to the string of men I dated. In a lot of ways, I was a typical girl with issues about her dead parents. Always seeking stability, always looking for love. I’m a little ashamed of it now. “Not very much. You know I jumped from one failed relationship to the next.”

“And when was he single?”

“Pretty much always, except for the occasional girl he dated for a week or two. Until after I stopped speaking to him, and he dated someone for a few months.”

“Hello, Lane. Earth to Lane.” Mallory pokes me again, and I swat at her hand. “He was waiting for you, dummy. He was waiting for his chance, and he never got it because you kept dating losers.”

“That’s what Liam said.”

“Of course.” She sighs and flops onto her back again. “I’m definitely right. I am, once again, an excellent judge of character.”

I lay there for a minute and stare up at the ceiling, which somehow also manages to be luxurious in the soft light of the chandelier.

“Why won’t he admit it then?” I ask quietly.

“He’s scared.” Mallory sighs. “I’m not saying you should wait forever for him, Lane, but if he comes to you again, maybe hear him out.”

“I’ll think about it, but it’s going to need to be a big fucking apology.”

40

Miles

I know it’s a bad idea to drink when I’m in this mood, but I want to do it anyway. It’s been days since I got back from Montauk, and I’m going insane trying to hear any shred of noise from Lane’s apartment. If only the soundproofing weren’t so damn good. My world is leeched of color. The sky is grey, and my mood is black. Jonah took me aside today and talked to me about scaring the staff. Coming from Jonah, that’s rich.

He’s begrudgingly agreed to go downstairs to what George calls the bat cave. It’s a speakeasy called Kings Cove and, since we own the building, they’re a tenant. Which means we get special treatment—a back room where no one can bother us, a dedicated liquor cabinet, and all the overpriced spiced nuts and olives we could want. Typically, we sit in the dimly lit bar and order cocktails, but when the mood strikes, or when we have a business deal to complete, we sit in the back. The lights are low, and the wood is gleaming. The bar features stained glass that was brought over from Cornelius Vanderbilt’s old office in Grand Central. It lets hazy and colorful light into the buzzing space.

We push through the unmarked wood door at the back, ignoring the curious glances of the patrons around us. The back room is lit by iron lamps and features a single plush booth in the center of the room. It’s low-lit and primal. Jason is already there, lean like a lion, but more relaxed.

He smiles and claps us each on the back. “How was the trip?” Jonah asks. He’s more talkative than usual today, probably because he senses my black mood.

“The best two weeks of my life. I have souvenirs for you.” Jason fishes in his pocket and comes up with two magnets. I get a surfer, and Jonah gets something that looks like a mask.

“It’s a local legend. A monster that terrorizes the populace. I thought it was appropriate.” Jason grins, and I laugh quietly, the first laugh in what feels like weeks, though I can pinpoint with certainty the last time I laughed with Lane.

“What’s eating him?” Jason jerks his head toward me but speaks to Jonah.

“Woman problems,” Jonah says shortly, before striding toward the liquor cabinet and selecting a bottle of whiskey.

Jason rubs his hands together. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

I roll my eyes and settle into the booth.

“Remember when we had to talk you off your own ledge?” I would much prefer to discuss Jason’s love life than mine.

He grins, a sharp slash of white teeth. “Yeah. This jerk’s advice was to do the boombox thing. And then you tried to set me up with another woman.” He leans forward, his eyes glinting in the low light. “So, Miles. Are you interested in another woman?”

I toss back the whiskey Jonah poured and barely feel the burn. “No,” I say shortly.

Jason sits back against the booth. “What happened?”

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