Page 76 of Best Kept Secret

"What?"

"Yeah." She'd hurt Mira, and I was never going to be friends with her again. I stalked after Mira, who was all but running to the restroom.

She opened the door, and I stepped in with her. The bar had one of those "we don't care who you are, just wash your hands" gender-less bathrooms.

"I'm not with her." I closed the door and leaned against it.

Mira looked at me pointedly.

"Shehugged me."

Mira kept staring.

"I'm withyou."

She cocked an eyebrow, and I wanted to beat my chest. I got a reaction!Hallelujah!

She licked her lips then. "I have to pee, Beau."

I didn't care if her bladder was full, but she'd finally talked to me for the first time since that phone call where I hung up on her after she sang to Pari.

"Go right ahead."

"I'm not going to pee in front of you."

"I'll turn my back."

"Beau," she protested.

"You're talking to me, and I'm not gonna take the chance you won't after you pee."

She sighed. "Please, go wait outside, and I'll come talk to you. Okay?"

"Promise?"How the mighty had indeed fallen!

"Yes," she said exasperated.

I gave a prayer to the heavens, and a thanks to full bladders everywhere, and stepped out of the bathroom.

Chapter 31

Mira

If there had been a window in the bathroom, even a small one, I'd have crawled out of it. I wasthatdesperate to talk to Beau, which was why I needed torun.

I should've never agreed to come for this drinks business. But my colleagues had been trying to get me out for weeks now and finally—finally, finally—I relented, and only because Zahra and Nova showed up at my apartment…well, Nova's apartment, which I was staying in now. It wasverynice and fully furnished. Most nights, I stayed up half the night watching garbage television. I was all up to date onDesperate Housewives of Atlanta—ask me freaking anything!

Not only did I have to see Beau, I had to see him with Fallon, and not only did I have to see her throw herself atmyBeau—but I also had to see him reject her. If only he'd hugged her back, I'd have gone right back to my mantra:it doesn't matter.

But he'd pushed her away and told her to stay the fuck away from him or some such thing.

There was a soft knock on the door. "Darlin', no one takes that long to pee."

Argh!

Did he really think he could just follow me around and I'd… what? What did he even want from me? I had no idea. And that's exactly why I needed to talk to him. That sounded like a plausible excuse, right? It didn't make me sound—or feel—like a simpering idiot recovering from a nervous breakdown, only to chase after the very thing that caused it in the first place. Or did it?

Let's be honest, your nervous breakdown wasn't just because of him, all that was brewing for years.

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