Page 64 of Rush of Jealousy

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Guards stay.”

“That is not how negotiating works, Graham. ”

“What are your terms?”

“No guards. And I mean it. None. And if I see one or suspect one is following me or tampering with my life in any way, I will do two things. First, I will call the cops and file a restraining order. Second, I will cut you out of my life completely. Think of this as a test.”

He walks over to the chair and pulls his T-shirt over his head. He runs a hand through his hair, and I can tell that he got a haircut recently.

“I don’t like this, Angie. I just do not like it.”

“You don’t have to like it, Graham. This is not about you liking or not liking something. This is about me. And my requirement to have breathing room. If you want any chance to get me to stop being mad at you and to stop wanting to kick you in the balls on a regular basis, I need you to do this.”

He nods his head. “When does this dry period start of keeping my distance?”

“After bacon,” I say with a smirk.

“You sure love your meat,” he chuckles softly.

I click my tongue. “And you sure love to feed it to me.”

* * *

“So, let me get this straight,” Claire says as she throws back a shot, “we are doing this bar crawl simply to see if Graham has stayed true to his word and is backing off.”

“Yup. Because if he is having me followed during this break that I instituted, then my reckless behavior should overpower his need to stick to the deal.”

“Genius.”

“I know, right?”

“Does that mean you are staying away from Zander as well?”

“Yeah. I need to stay away from all men before I get any more wrapped up in the cluster fuck that is my life. I don’t even trustmyselfto make good decisions right now. But enough about me. What’s going on with you and Ethan?”

“Next.”

“Oh, come on,” I whine.

“Thatis something I do not want to talk about. I want to have fun.” She holds up her glass of melted ice and diluted margarita. “Cheers to screwing a bunch of men!”

I look at her with confusion. “Not exactly the vision I was going for, but sure, cheers!” I say, smacking my diminishing drink glass against hers. “Pretty sure we are bringing some bad luck to ourselves with these pathetic looking beverages.”

“Fill us up, bartender-oney!” Claire announces to the bartender, who just shakes his head at her. I do the same. “It sounded better in my head,” she grumbles.

“What do you ladies want to drink now?”

“Something that makes our lips turn numb but our nipples stand up,” Claire answers.

He chuckles. “Coming right up.”

We hit up another three bars in the Pearl District—getting an appetizer and beverage at each. As we walk to the last stop, Claire grabs my arm and points. “Look.”

I follow her finger to a little French bistro. I stand paralyzed watching Graham and Sophia share a bottle of wine and what looks to be comfort food.

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