Page 8 of Never Kiss and Tell

Much to my dismay, Marcus has chosen to keep his apprentice on payroll, flying Drew out to California with him. Don’t get me wrong — I’m happy to have Drew out of the city, but knowing my family has basically sided with him makes me want to cry, yell, and vomit, all at the same time. Since I broke up with him, he’s been coming up with artistic grand gestures to get me back on his side, while also harassing me with pictures of his new endeavors.

My least favorite was when he filled my room with roses. The smell, while nice, gave me an allergy cold that I couldn’t shake for a week while my room aired out.

Mila thought it was romantic. Savannah thought it was desperate and disgusting.

“Bailey, how was therapy?” Mom asks, her lilted voice higher than usual as she attempts to hide her dissatisfaction with Savannah’s new squeeze.

“Good, I guess,” I grumble, moving the food on the plate around with my fork, not actually eating it. It’s salmon, again. I hate salmon.

Mom sets her napkin down after dotting at the corners of her mouth. “And what did you talk about?”

I shrug, taking a large swig out of my wine glass. Mom reaches over and pulls it down, almost making me spill it.

“I had hoped Kenya would be able to help you with some of the things you seem to be struggling with.”

“I’m not struggling.” I totally am. Gritting my teeth, I grab the glass back and polish off the rest of it.

“Well, you’re hardly embracing life. Holing up in your room isn’t healthy.”

“Neither is your need for control, but you aren’t in therapy.”

I can tell Mom wants to smack me the moment it’s out of my mouth, but she refrains, chuckling to Spike who looks between us nervously.

“Do you have any sisters . . . Spike?” Mom asks, diverting the conversation. I’m thankful. After my embarrassing car ride and then the bird poo on the beach, I’m in no mood to argue with Mom about my therapist.

Spike left with a parting hickey on my sister’s neck and she quickly retired to her room to hail Satan and paint her lips black. Mom popped her nightly horse sleeping pill and passed out in her bed. Mila, baby of the bunch at twenty, is away with her friends on some “witchy” retreat to snort crystals and celebrate graduating high school. This leaves me with full reign of the house, save for the few employees lurking around, for therest of the night until mom wakes up at eight a.m. for her Friday morning hot yoga class.

After dinner, I think about taking another walk on the beach, but in Los Angeles, even in Malibu, you’re likely to run into some undesirables at night.

I settle for a bubble bath, sinking as far into the water as I can get without dunking my head under.

I’m almost asleep, usually finding it incredibly easy to nod off anywhere but my actual bed, when my phone buzzes on the side of the tub and almost nosedives into certain death, a lá bubbles.

I snatch it up before it can fall and see Andi’s face on the screen and my heart warms. She’s been super busy, taking college classes on interior design and planning a wedding. I’m set to be her maid of honor, though I have no idea what I’m doing. I need to somehow plan a bachelorette party for her from Malibu, fly down there and attend, then also do anything I can to help with the wedding plans.

“How was therapy?” she asks as soon as I answer. Andi never stops to say “hello”. Direct conversation is her typical mode of communication. She doesn’t beat around the bush. There’s no guessing with her and that’s part of what I love about her.

“Kenya was brutal today. I think I’m going to stop seeing her.”

“Youneedsomeone to be brutally honest with you, though. I know it sucks, but it will help you put things in a different perspective.”

I roll my eyes, thinking about Kenya’s judgy look when Itold her about my unfortunate BDSM experience. Sex therapist, my ass. She thinks what everyone else thinks.Bailey’s just overreacting. Kids these days don’t know the meaning of love. At twenty-four, I’ll admit, I have no idea what I’m doing, but I do know that I truly cared for Drew, until he changed into someone I didn’t know.

“Then Christian was extra puppy-doggy, today,” I add, raising my hand to check out the tan line from my ring. Almost gone. Thank God.

She groans, having heard all about the Christian drama.

“Poor guy. He has battle scars from being stuck in your friend zone.” I laugh, though guilt pierces through me. I never want to lead Christian on; it’s just incredibly hard when I see him every day. Not to mention, me drunk and showing up at his apartment two weeks ago looking for dick, probably didn’t help, either.

“What about you?” I ask, hoping to change the subject. “How’s the wedding planning going?”

“Well . . . I was actually going to talk to you about something.”

My heart sinks. I fidget with the locket around my neck, rolling it in my palm.

“You’re scaring me.”

She laughs. “No, nothing bad. Actually, Tom and I were talking and I’m super swamped right now, no pun intended, and he doesn’t have time to go to a lot of the meetings with me because he’s been working a lot.”

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