Page 124 of The Love Losers

“I have my own skincare regimen, thank you very much.”

“But you got the message?”

“Yes,” Nina says tersely. “And you got my message?”

“I did, thank you, but I don’t think I’ll be throwing a tea for you and Wilson. Joy and I have actually retired that side of our business and liquidated all of our supplies. Too bad.”

Wilson smiles at me indulgently and takes out his phone. Half a second later, I get a text from him:

Look at them, becoming best friends.

Rosie takes a drink of her beer, and Nina sips the wine, sputters, and shoves it away from herself so vehemently it sloshes over the rim and splatters my shirt. It was red wine, and my shirt is mostly white, so I probably look like a murderer.

“Not to your taste?” I ask tightly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Anthony,” she says with a complete change of personality. Picking up her napkin, she starts dabbing at my shirt, the pads of her fingers caressing me. I recoil from her touch, pushing back into the old cushions of the booth.

“I’ll take care of that,” Rosie says, snatching the napkin from her and helping to dab up the mess before she balls it up. “You know what I find interesting?”

“I couldn’t begin to guess,” Nina replies.

“Oh, I love guessing games,” Wilson says. “Paintball. You definitely find that interesting. And you went horse-riding with Anthony here, so maybe you’re a horsewoman in the making. Are you going to get her a horse, Anthony?”

I shake my head slightly. “Don’t ruin all my surprises.”

Rosie’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“Sweetcheeks needs another friend.”

I’ve already started looking for a horse that would be horse enough for Rosie.

She beams at me before glancing across the table at our guests, her expression souring. Shaking her head, she says, “You know, I’m tired of all of this.”

Even though I’m still terrified she’ll wake up one morning and decide she doesn’t want me and the life we’ve talked about after all, I know what she means. She’s talking about pretending. About dancing around the truth like it’s a bonfire.

“I just want us to live our lives,” Rosie tells me. I hold her gaze and nod, and she shifts her attention across the table. “Nina, I sent you the skincare link on Anthony’s phone. Because you stole it from him like a real psychopath. You also tried to break up with me on his behalf, which is just rude. You made me really sad on Christmas, but it didn’t go past that, becausethis manhitchhiked on a snowplow to get to me.”

She holds Nina’s gaze, her hand gripping my thigh.

No one says anything for a moment. Nina’s colorless, and Wilson looks like a lost dog.

Nina’s the one who breaks the silence. “I don’t know—”

“That’s what you lost, Nina,” Rosie says. “That’s what you’re never going to get back. And you can threaten me all you want, but I have friends who have my back.”

“Literally,” Nicole calls out from behind us.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nina says. Shifting her attention to me, she finishes, “Anthony, surely you don’t believe this nonsense. This girl’s a drug addict with some kind of Cinderella complex.”

“How dare you.” My voice is shaking, every muscle in my body tight. “You’re talking about the woman I love. And if you have any sense of self-preservation, you will never threaten her or so much as speak her name again.”

“Anthony?” Wilson asks, sounding lost, like he’s hoping someone will read the instruction booklet for him. “Is this some kind of game?” He forces a laugh. “I was thinking of something more along the lines of Clue or Guess Who?”

There’s a rustling behind us, and seconds later, Emma appears in front of the booth. She slaps a folder down onto the wooden table, demanding our attention.

“Emma?” Wilson says.

But her eyes are on Nina. “Rosie signed the prenup that you wouldn’t. Didn’t even read it, not that I’d encourage anyone to be that stupid.”

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