Page 20 of The Love Bandits

Maybe we can never really learn from the past. Maybe we’re destined to make the same mistakes over and over again, because the framework for them is built into us.

“Let’s just watch the clip,” I say with a sigh, grabbing my laptop and opening it.

Claire comes closer, and we all crowd in to watch, even Professor X. Nicole gives Claire a suspicious sniff, which makes her burst out laughing.

Claire wore Chanel No. 5 for years because her old boss backed her into it. Nicole told her it made her smell elderly. So Claire occasionally wears it under her bakery smell just to screw with her—and test her sense of smell.

“You’re both unhinged,” I tell them.

Nicole smiles at me. “Says the woman who asked a strange man to find her a super plus tampon after climbing into his lap like he was Santa and she wanted all the toys.” She shrugs. “Not that I blame you. He’s got this hot slacker thing working for him.”

I startle. “How do you—”

She rolls her eyes. “You don’t think I had eyes on you? For all we knew, he was a psychopath pervert who wanted to wear your skin as a hat. I’m not going to let him do that to one of my girls.”

It’s nice that she cared, I guess, but it also feels a little intrusive. Which is incredibly hypocritical of me since I did just go through Jake Jeffries’s underwear drawer before strewing around his boxer briefs like they were confetti. I just…

Thought I could keep that moment for myself.

Why did you want to, you weirdo?

But I don’t have time for self-reflection. Claire has turned to me, her eyes as wide as when I told her I’d begun my work as Robin Hood and stolen some of my mother’s MLM Tupperware, filled it with food, and given it out to homeless people.

“Wait…you climbed into his lap?” she asks. She knows about my weird sex hang ups—how I struggle to let go. She’s in a position to realize the possible significance of this information.

“I did what I had to,” I say, avoiding her gaze as I turn on the video.

I feel her still watching me, though, so I send her a best friends look that I hope she can interpret—we’ll discuss my raging libido later.

We spend the next five minutes listening to a very boring account of the Heart of the Mountain. It’s described as a priceless relic five seconds before the narrator puts a price tag on it.

Nine point five million.

When it’s over, Nicole whistles, her eyes shining, and rewinds to the place where we began. “I should have known. The uglier the jewelry, the more it’s worth.”

“I knew Mrs. Rosings was rich, obviously,” Claire says, “but I didn’t think she wasthatrich.”

“She had that thing hidden in an empty urn without any security,” I say, numb.

Nicole purses her lips to the side. “You know, that might be the best place for something like that. Who’s going to open an urn?”

She has a point.

“Is she hiring security for the event?” she continues, sitting up straighter in her chair.

“Not enough. There’ll be a guard at the gate to check everyone in. And there’s an alarm attached to the actual display case.”

“She’s setting a trap for your tiger,” Nicole says approvingly. “Vicious.”

“But why would Nina try to steal it? If she marries Anthony, she doesn’t need the necklace. I’m pretty sure he’s got some kind of trust fund from his father.”

“Sure, but if Nina takes the necklace, she doesn’t have to marry him,” Nicole says. “She can fleece it and be done with the whole thing.” She taps her chin. “She’d befree, so maybe you should let her take it if that’s your game.”

Her words funnel into me and then ping around, as though they’re unsure of where to go. I don’t really like Mrs. Rosings—she’s too hard, too conniving—and yet…

To let Nina take the necklace would be wrong.

To help her, even worse.

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