Page 21 of Mr. Wicked

I’d waited for her to get off work. I’d offered to feed her and give her wine. I’d even suggested a round two since I had time before I needed to leave for work.

She was the only woman I’d ever compromised for.

That memory, that admission, made my eyes narrow, and a lie growled its way out of my mouth. “You’re right, asshole. I don’t. Ever.”

He laughed, his hands now in the air, like I was pointing a gun at him. “Just a suggestion, but it’s semi-time to start thinking about what you want. A family. Kids. You’re thirty now—you’re not getting younger.”

“You say that like I’m about to start collecting social security.” I sat up. “You and your girl can live whatever kind of life that suits you—even if that means lying about who you’re with. But don’t you worry about me. I’m just going to keep on rolling with the way things are now. There’s no reason to fuck with perfection.” I stood from my chair, looking down at him. “You knew you weren’t going to win that one.”

“When have I ever won one with you?” He lowered his glasses, showing me green eyes that were aimed right at mine. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying.”

“You do you, buddy. I’m going to do me.” I raised my glass high in the air and looked toward the hot tub where the other two guys were still soaking. Dudes who were as single as me. “Hey, motherfuckers!” I shouted in their direction. When I was sure I had their attention, their glasses lifted above their heads, waiting for my toast, I walked over to the school of women. I stood at the end of the long row of chairs and smiled at all of them. When my gaze reached the brunette whose name started with R, I waited for her face to change. For her nose to shrink, her brown eyes to turn blue, her lips to thicken.

But it didn’t happen.

What did happen was the moment she grinned at me, there was a stab in my chest and a tightness that followed.

There was only one way to make that feeling go away.

I needed to get drunker.

“To fucking bachelorhood! Who needs marriage when you can have all of this!” I yelled across the top deck, and then lowered my glass to finish the rest of my scotch.

CHAPTER TWO

Jovana

“Girl, you’re a lifesaver,” Sloane, the bartender, said as I rushed behind the bar to clock in for my unscheduled shift. The moment I finished typing my code into the computer and turned toward her, she threw her arms around me, giving me a heavy whiff of her banana-scented lotion and weed—Sloane’s signature scent. “I owe you everything and then some.”

“Don’t be silly. You know I’m always happy to come in whenever you need me.”

Sloane was the reason I had this job in the first place. I’d known her since high school and throughout college. We’d even recently become roommates, which was the reason I’d said yes to this shift and all the others I’d been able to pick up over the last few months. I desperately needed the money for rent and bills, especially with my student loans on the verge of kicking in. When Sloane had gotten me this position, I was promised part-time hours. But because the other servers liked to call in sick all the time and do everything aside from coming to work, I had become their fill-in, basically earning me full-time status.

Once her arms dropped from my shoulders, I grabbed an apron from the bin and tied it around my waist. “Have I missed anything?”

“Oh, you know, the usual drama.” She tore off the slip that had just come out of the printer that gave her a list of drinks she needed to make. “Two of the servers skipped out tonight, claiming they have the flu. Except I’m positive they’re at the Jelly Roll concert.”

I asked the same question every time I came in. Sloane, or the other bartender if my roommate wasn’t in, would drown me in employee gossip.

Really, all I wanted to know was if Grayson was here.

In the two months since we’d slept together, he hadn’t been in.

Not even once.

And part of me was relieved because I certainly didn’t want to see that asshole, but part of me wanted to be in his presence because deep in my gut, I still felt something for him.

Based on Sloane’s response, I assumed tonight was no different or it would have been the first thing she said.

I unscrewed my bottle of Coke, and as I heard the sound it made, I remembered the words Grayson had said that night about the soda.

I want to hear the fizz when I open it. None of that fountain shit that’s stale as hell. I like my soda sweet and bubbly.

The words weren’t identical—my mom wasn’t as crude as Grayson—but she’d said something similar to my father the first time they’d met, and ironically, it had been over a bottle of Coke.

That also happened to be the same moment that my father knew he was going to marry her.

Whenever my mom described their meetup, she always talked about the way my father had made her feel. The way he had looked at her. The growing sensation she’d had in her stomach.

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