Page 23 of Covetous

“Our shit is tight. He ain’t going nowhere.”

A wave of doubt washes over me as Liv’s warning comes back to mind. You know Esme. She will say everything is fine in her relationship, even if it isn’t.

“Good. I’m glad,” I say, trying to push away any lingering resentment toward Esme for not telling me about Victor’s feelings earlier. Despite everything, I genuinely want them to be happy together.

“I should’ve told you sooner about how he felt. But I didn’t want you all in your head about some unrequited love bullshit that never would’ve worked out, anyway. You had Ian. You guys are getting married. And I—” She cuts herself off abruptly before starting again. “I had developed feelings for Victor at that point. I didn’t plan to. I even tried not to. But it just…happened.”

“I understand.” More than she knows.

“And I know it sounds crazy that this man pours his heart out to me about my best friend—the one who got away—and I still made a move on him. I told him I didn’t care if he used to have a thing for you. I said he was right to leave you alone all those years ago because he only would’ve broken your heart. And now you were happy and crazy in love with an amazing man.” She sighs indifferently. “You know what happened next.”

I let out a quiet chuckle, trying to mask the discomfort in my voice. “I still can’t believe you had sex with him out in the open.”

“It wasn’t out in the open. It was in his car.”

“In the gym parking lot. In broad light. And last I checked, he doesn’t have tinted windows.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “I did what I had to do. I knew that as soon as I sat on it, he would be like, ‘Skylar, who?’”

My chuckle falls flat. I just don’t have it in me, so I change the subject altogether. “Ian and I are getting married next summer.”

Esme’s eyes go round. “No shit. Really?”

I nod excitedly, a wide grin spreading across my face. “In July. We have to see what weekends, if any, the Astorian has available.”

Esme claps her hands together giddily. “I already know I’m going to be your maid of honor.”

“Of course you are. But just so you know, my sister will also share that title.”

She purses her lips. “We’ll talk about it.”

Playfully rolling my eyes, I respond with a teasing, “Sure, sure.” Making my way to the closet, I search for an outfit that fits Posh Boutique’s dress code. A black tea-length dress catches my eye, one that clings to my curves in just the right way. With the dress in hand, I turn back to Esme. “Can you zip me into this?”

“I’ve got you.” After stripping down to my underwear, I step into my dress. Esme moves to stand behind me, moving my hair out of the way and zipping up the fabric. “So you and Ian are good?”

“We worked through some stuff.” It’s a vague reply, but I don’t want to get into the nitty-gritty.

“What happened to your lip?” she asks.

Panic seizes my chest as I scramble for a believable explanation. “Rough kissing.”

She lets out a snort, clearly amused. “I can’t believe you’re getting married. In a year.”

“I know, right?” A chuckle slips out, tinged with a deep sense of relief that she’s taken the bait about the rough kiss.

Esme’s next question catches me even more off guard. “Can I invite Victor?”

Shocked, I shoot her a perplexed look over my shoulder. “To my wedding?”

Her lips twitch. “No. To the Bermuda Triangle. Yes, to your wedding.”

My first thought is to say no, but I can’t do that. “Sure, yeah. That’s fine.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” she says, fastening the small top button above my zipper.

“It’s just…it’s a year out. Maybe wait a while before you ask him.”

“You think it’s presumptuous of me to think we’ll still be together a year from now, but you never know what could happen in a year.”

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