Page 46 of The Unfinished Line

“You sure?”

“It’sfree, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Dani fished the olive out of her martini, sucking the pimento from the fruit.

Kam’s mouth shot open, but Dillon pressed a halting hand to her forearm. The woman was a despicable bitch, but she wasn’t worth a scene.

“Well, with that kind of generosity, how could I refuse? A water would be grand.”

“One Manhattan, one water, coming up,” said Carter. “In fact,” he smiled, “Dillon, I’ll make yours a double.” He turned to Dani, who gave a shake of her nearly empty martini glass, but instead of acknowledging her unspoken request, shoved his plate of dissected sandwich into her unsuspecting hand. “Be a dear and toss that for me, will you, Dani Girl?” Without looking back, he sauntered toward the bar.

Scene 17

I could have killed her.

I could have literally shoved her off the second-story balcony and watched her body splatter on the hand-carved Italian marble framing the saltwater pool.

Okay, maybe that was a step too far. I didn’t want her to splatter. Just a dull, satisfying thud. Anything to knock the wind out of her conniving little sails.

I couldn’t believe it, her audacity to call Carter. She didn’t even like him. Ever since he’d turned down a lacrosse scholarship at Notre Dame to study plant biology at Berkeley, she’d insisted he’d lost his ‘jock card.’ He’d only ever been invited to Christmas Eve dinner as my date, which meant he’d been absent the last two years.

And the only reason he was here now was because she—the Queen of Provocation—wanted to cause trouble.

She’d taken one look at Dillon and not liked what she’d seen. She’d practically said as much to me as soon as we left her in the foyer.

“You know what people are going to say about you—seeing you with someone like her!”

Someone like her.

If we hadn’t already stepped into the game room—if my mom hadn’t already spotted me and been making her way across theimported Turkish carpet—I’d have turned around and walked straight back to my car.

“You think I give a shit what any of these people say about me?” I hissed. And then, like the coward I am, added, “she’s my friend and nothing more.”

My mom had reached us at that point and I’d forgotten about Dani and her bigoted bullshit, trying instead to navigate the rollercoaster of emotions drummed up after not seeing my parents in over two-and-a-half years.

I’d survived that crucible. We’d spent an hour—my mom, dad, and I—tentatively maneuvering the murky waters of a strained relationship, building a bridge with small talk and carefully chosen anecdotes of holidays past. It had only been a bandaid, but at least it had been a start.

By the time the bell had rung for Darlene’s ‘cocktail hour,’ I’d been feeling pretty good about my decision to come. That was, until I’d excused myself from my parents to go find Dillon, and discovered exactly how guileful Dani had been in my absence.

She just likes playing hard to get. Fuck you, Dani!

It had been all I could do not to lunge at her and wrap my fingers around her skinny little throat.

“I hate her,” I practically yelled after Dani had disappeared for another martini and I’d dragged Dillon with me into the furthest downstairs guest bathroom. “I can’t believe she invited him!”

Dillon was unperturbed. “He’s honestly quite a nice guy.”

“He’s always nice, but that’s not the point!” I was mad she wasn’t as mad as I was. “She only did this because—because—” I threw up my hands, almost knocking a vase of fresh-cut flowers off the sink. “Just—God! She can be such a bitch, I swear!” I emphasized my frustration by snatching a petal from one of the innocent orchids propped in the ceramic vase.

“Well, I won’t refute you on that one.”

I looked up to find her smiling at me in the mirror. She stepped closer until I could feel the heat of her body through the black mini-dress I’d decided to wear. One that stopped mid-thigh, and hung off my shoulders just right. One I’d chosen without anyone but her in mind.

“I take it she doesn’t approve of the company you’re keeping?” she continued, reaching around me to recenter the clasp of my necklace that had slipped to the hollow of my throat. It brought goosebumps to the nape of my neck, her slow, deliberate fingers, and I had to close my eyes when she pressed her lips to the tender skin just behind my ear. “I mean,” she said, and I could hear that she was still smiling, “I guess you can’t blame her.”

“It’s none of her damned business.” I’d meant it to come out with conviction, but instead, the words had barely escaped my lips. They’d fallen breathily short as her free hand trailed a linear path down my side, the tips of her fingers stopping just below where the satin hem of my dress hugged my thigh.

I don’t know how she did it, turning my thoughts away from everything but her. How the simplest of touches could make me forget Dani and her meddling. Darlene and her asinine seating chart. My parents and our inability to scratch anything below the surface. Carter and his wounded puppy dog look when he realized I wouldn’t be going home with him tonight.

“Let’s bail before dinner,” I said, leaning back against her, wanting nothing more than for her hand to explore further. Caring nothing for the fact that we were locked inside a bathroom in the bowels of Hallwell Hell.

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