Page 123 of The Love Losers

“Did you get Gene his sign?” I ask.

“I did,” Dom beams, ignoring a man further down the bar who’s trying to wave him down. “Let’s go see it, and I can give him the invitation.”

But before we can take a single step, the door swings open, and I hear Wilson say, “Well, will you look at that? I haven’t been at a place like this since I was underage.”

CHAPTER FORTY

ANTHONY

My teeth are on edge as I watch them approaching us, but not because of any personal pain Nina has caused me. It’s what she tried to do Rosie. She stole my phone and texted my future wife. Impersonated me and tried to break Rosie’s heart. The thought makes me beyond livid, and I won’t lie—I want to see her destroyed.

Not the way my father did. Never like that.

But I want to see this lie she’s constructed for herself fall apart. I want to know that she’s as unhappy as she tried to make Rosie.

She’s wearing a fur coat—real fur—and after casting a glance at the half-broken coat rack by the door, she leaves it on, even as Wilson relinquishes his puffer and then ceremoniously puts an unwanted lei around first my neck and then Rosie’s.

“The Wilson family leis,” he says as if they’re sacred.

“This is Rosie’s favorite bar?” Nina says, taking in the mismatched display and hand-drawn banner.

“It’sourfavorite bar,” I correct. “We have a booth over here.”

“Fantastic,fantastic,” Wilson says, rubbing his hands together and then reaching for mine. He gives it an exuberant shake. “I hope you both had great Christmases. Ours was sogood. We had the pig roast, of course, and I got that special ice pack.” He winks at me. “Wearing it now, bud, but I’ll show you later. It’s something else.” He claps Nina on the back like they’re bros. “Oh, and Nina got me a diet book that looks very interesting.”

“We had a wonderful Christmas,” Rosie says, grinning at them as she wraps her arms around me, her ring pointedly display.

Nina gasps before she can control her reaction. She’d wanted that ring—badly—and my mother had denied her. Clearing her throat, she says, “I’ll just bet you did. Did you have any of your little tea parties?”

Wilson laughs throatily, then beams at Rosie. “I was telling Anthony that I couldn’tbelieveI’d met you before. At that circus tea, remember? Now, that was a fun time.”

“Yeah, it’s a small world,” Rosie says with a broad grin. “You never know who you’ll run into. You know, my friends and I love shopping on Facebook marketplace. So many deals. And I figured out thatIactually knew someone who was selling a bunch of interesting shit. Kismet, am I right?”

Nina swallows.

“Why don’t we let you order your drinks?” I say. “We can meet you at our booth.”

I gesture toward it.

“Sure, sure,” Wilson says. “We’ll grab some pretzels too.”

“Don’t you dare,” Nina objects, her voice shrill. “There’s urine on those pretzels.”

“Why would there be urine on them?” Wilson asks her, his brow furrowed.

“Because men don’t wash their hands after they use the toilet, Wilson,” she responds in a seething undertone as I lead Rosie away. “You certainly don’t, and—”

Her voice blissfully fades into incoherence as we keep walking.

We settle into the booth, Rosie’s side pressed to mine, and someone knocks a rhythm on the other side. “Volleyball,” I say.

And get a snort.

They’re back a few minutes later, Wilson with a beer and Nina with a glass of wine that’s almost certainly vinegar. I know this from personal experience because I tried to order wine when I came here with Jake a couple of months ago. I couldn’t eat salad—or drink wine—for a week afterward.

Wilson makes a theatrical frowny face. “No pretzels. But this is nice. Isn’t this nice?”

“Absolutely!” Rosie beams at him, her hand sliding onto my thigh. Turning to Nina, she says, “And what did you think of those skincare products I sent you the listing for, Nina? I really think you should get started right away. Some people don’t see results for up to three months.”

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