Page 44 of The Love Losers

“I’ll be in touch,” Anthony tells me, and then he lifts my hand and kisses the palm before leaving the car. That makes two times someone’s kissed my hand, but this time I get to curl my fingers around it. I do exactly that as I watch him enter the office building to get his wallet, taking in the length and breadth of him. Admiring him in a way I haven’t really let myself before tonight. Because I’ve let myself imagine possibilities that probably aren’t possible.

Nicole glances back at me, her eyes sharp. “So, now you’re going to tell us everything, obviously.”

I sigh as Damien pulls away from the curb. “Where are we going?”

“To the Golden Arches, baby,” Nicole says. “You awakened a craving. But you might as well get started. What’s preventing you from volunteering as tribute for that hot piece?”

I can see Damien’s lips twitch in the rearview mirror. I can’t blame him. I’d probably be laughing too if I weren’t at the center of this thing.

“He’s nearly a stranger,” I say, even if that doesn't feel quite true. “Marrying him would be a terrible idea for us both.

Nicole turns in her seat as Damien maneuvers the car. “One,” she says, jutting out a finger, “You’d both get lots of money. Two, if it didn’t work out, you could get divorced. No harm, no foul. He’d have the money, you’d have the money, and divorce is no big deal for most people. My mom’s done it twice. Three, it would be very entertaining for all of us, and we’d probablyget more invitations to Smith House. I’m guessing Mrs. Rosings throws some quality parties.”

“You obviously know about my brother’s upcoming proposal,” I say, gesturing toward her shirt.

“Obviously,” she scoffs. “I knew before he did.”

My lips lift slightly before drooping. “Well…I’m not going to ruin that for them. And I’m definitely not going to ruin Anthony’s inheritance for him either. That would be a dick move, and whenever possible, I try not to be a dick.”

She gives me some more of her laser stare. “This isn’t just you worrying about burning your fake identity. I’ve told you and your brother it’s solid. It won’t break.” She stares at me. “So what’s it about?”

I take a deep breath and stare out the window, watching the city pass by. “I… My brothers don’t know this. Only my uncle knew. But I got arrested when I was younger. As Rosie O’Malley. It was for something incredibly stupid, but my prints are on record. If anyone looks them up, they’ll know exactly who I am.”

“Fuckkkk.” Nicole draws out the word as she angles herself sideways in her seat so she can be in my face when she says, “What’d you do anyway? Rob a 7-11? I’ve been tempted before. Everyone knows those places are supposed to be 24-7, but we tried to get a midnight Slurpee one night after a stakeout, and it was closed. Damien had to hold me back.”

“No,” I say, incapable of laughing right now. “I got drunk and climbed into a hedge maze and got lost. This guy convinced me to do it. It wasn’t a proud moment.”

She winces. “Stealing Slurpees would have been cooler.”

“Agreed.”

“Wait, who’s the guy? You’re not already married, are you?”

“No, thank God. His name was Jay. I was engaged to him for a hot minute, but I found out he wasalreadymarried when his wife called to chew me out. He doesn’t matter, though.”

There’s a flash of yellow lights, and then Damien’s turning off the highway. “I think drive-thru would be best,” he adds with humor in his tone as he joins the short line of cars weaving around the building. Apparently, Nicole is not the only person who wants late-night ice cream.

“I’m good,” I say. “Nothing for me.”

“There’s not a single situation ice cream makes worse,” Nicole says, then nods to Damien and holds up two fingers.

I shrug, because it’s a decent point.

“Why haven’t you told anyone about all of this before now?” Damien asks, giving me the look of a disapproving father. He can’t be more than a decade older than me, but it sticks the landing, dammit.

I glance down at my hands. “I didn’t want my brothers to freak out, and it seemed like it wouldn’t matter.”

“I tell you what. This wasn’t on my bingo card,” Nicole says, slapping the glove box. “This year really wants to go out with a bang, doesn’t it?”

Earlier, dancing with Anthony, I felt like I was floating. But now the past is wrapping around me, as if it has a mind to give me concrete shoes and sink me in the East River.

If I were a good person, I’d text Anthony right now and double down on trying to push him into a platonic marriage with Leigh the accountant. I’d say that maybe things will be different in the future—a year from now, two. Never, if that’s the way the cookie crumbles.

But I want Saturday. Iwantit.

I’ve devoted most of my life to helping other people figure out their wants, and this is somethingIwant.

“You know, the solution could be for you to never do anything that could possibly get you arrested,” Nicole muses.

---