Page 16 of Wildest Dreams

He laughs. “Yeah, maybe.” He fingers his glass, wiping the sweat from the sides. “What about you? What’s your life story?”

I squirm in my seat. My life story is a failed marriage and a sad existence in a studio apartment watching murder shows. I’m not sure how to answer this question without killing the mood.

Then, as if on cue, I look up and see Tucker. He’s glaring right at me. I feel the blood drain from my face and my stomach ties itself in knots. I think I’m going to puke.

Pierre puts his hand on mine. “Are you okay?” he asks.

I snap out of it, realizing I had gone silent long enough to make it weird. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“Again with the apologies.” He smiles and it makes me laugh.

Well, if Pierre can be transparent with his wounds, I guess I can too. “You want to know my story? He just walked in.”

Pierre turns around and sees Tucker, who is standing behind a high-top table, completely unashamed of the fact that he’s staring at us with confusion and shock. No doubt Calista told him who my mystery man is as soon as he walked up to the bar. Part of me wants to run away. The other part is smug. I’m here with Pierre f-ing Chatham, as Patsy would say.

“The guy with the Dave Matthews shirt?” he asks.

“Yep. That’s my ex-husband.”

Pierre turns again as Whitney approaches Tucker and puts her arms around him. He nods in our direction and she sees me at the table with Pierre. If it weren’t for her cheap spray tan, the color would be draining from her face.

“And that’s the girl he left me for.”

Pierre smirks and looks back to me. “That guy? Really?” He shakes his head. “That’s a guy who peaked in high school and that girl reeks of desperation.”

I laugh. He’s right. Tucker has definitely seen better days. He’s weathered, and not in a sexy way. While he’s not overweight, he somehow looks bloated all the time. As far as Whitney is concerned… yeah. Pierre is right. Fake lashes, fake boobs, hair extensions, acrylic nails. The only thing real on her is the massive diamond on her left hand.

“Any guy who will go for a girl like that doesn’t deserve you.”

Pierre and I lock eyes for a long moment. For the first time in years, or maybe ever, I feel seen. Really, truly, honestly seen in a way that makes me excited and nervous. Like his eyes reach into my soul and strip me of my armor. I’ve known him for three days and it suddenly feels like a lifetime. I shudder and snap myself out of it.

“Well, it’s over now,” I say quietly, then clear my throat.

“Glad to hear it.”

I take another long sip of beer to finish it off.

“Another?” Pierre asks.

I nod.

When he gets up, I take the opportunity to truly absorb how dreamy he is. His hair is perfectly tousled, like he cares but not too much. He has olive skin that sets off eyes the color of the Gulf of Mexico. He looks like he stepped out of old Hollywood. It’s easy to understand why he’s a movie star. He’s almost too perfect.

Before he can get to the bar, he’s stopped by some girls who want selfies. He gracefully obliges, then gets our beer from Calista. Tucker and Whitney look incessantly from Pierre to me and back again, and though I try to ignore it, I really want to laugh.

Patsy would be loving this if she was here now.

PIERRE

Ireturn to the table with our beer, feeling the heat of Kendall’s nemeses’ eyes on my back. If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man.

Kendall has her legs crossed, one white sandal dangling off her toes. It’s so sexy I have to look away, fighting the urge to do something cheesy like kneeling to place it back on her foot.

I’m ridiculous.

I sit down and take a sip of my drink. “So apart from being divorced from the douchebag over there, what’s your story?”

She blushes again. “I’m boring, actually.”

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