Page 34 of Jilted

I sighed. “Was I that bad?”

“What are you talking about?”

“In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve gotten invitations from three women I’ve slept with before.”

Andrew stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. “Aww, you poor baby. You’re single and got offered sex from three hot women. Meanwhile, I fucked up the rest of my life. Your life really sucks.”

I chuckled. “I’m serious. Have I been that big of a whore?”

“You once slept with a woman you met at a bar on a Friday night, and the next day she called and asked if you would sleep with her friend who needed cheering up. And you did.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let the woman be miserable?”

Andrew smiled. “You’re a whore, my friend. But no judgment here. Especially not now. Besides, it’s not like you to pretend to be something you’re not.”

I frowned.

My buddy’s forehead creased. “Seriously? What’s going on with you?”

Of all my friends, Andrew knew me the best. He was also brutally honest. I shifted in my seat to see his expression. “Do you think I have relationship potential? I mean, one that lasts more than two months and involves more than just fucking each other’s brains out?”

Andrew shrugged. “We’ve been in one for, what, twenty-five years?”

“I don’t mean a friendship.”

“I know what you’re asking. But I don’t think the criteria are that different. A relationship of any kind is built on honesty, trust, and open communication. We have that. So you clearly have the ability to share those things with someone.”

“That’s being a friend, not a boyfriend.”

“The only thing that’s really different is the sex, being monogamous.”

I pointed to my buddy. “That’s the part I’m worried about.”

“That’s only because you haven’t met a woman who holds your interest. Once you do, it won’t be hard.” He closed his eyes. “And I realize that sounds ridiculously hypocritical considering the reason I’m flying home, but it’s the truth. I might be the relationship guyof the two of us, and you’re the whore, but I know you’d never cheat after…”

I took a deep breath. “I think I met someone. She’s got a stranglehold on my interest. I can’t fucking think of much else these days.”

Andrew’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Never thought I’d see the day. What’s her name?”

“Sloane.”

“What’s she like?”

“She’s smart. Beautiful, with auburn hair and a great figure. And she calls me out on my crap.”

He grinned. “I like her already.”

“We have great chemistry, and not just the sexual kind. There’s an emotional and intellectual chemistry, too. Like, I want to listen to her talk, and when she tells me shit, I feel it in my gut. I don’t even really understand it.”

“That all sounds great. But why do I feel like there’s more coming, like I’m waiting for the big red flags to start waving around in the wind?”

“Oh, there are definitely red flags.”

“She married?”

I shook my head. “Of course not. But she was recently engaged. The dickhead left her at the altar. She’s like you, has only ever had serious relationships. And she works for one of my dad’s holdings—a bridal magazine—and she’s got an obsession with weddings. Her family is fourth-generation NYPD, and they also own a cop bar that has so many people carrying they could fight a small war.”

“Jesus Christ, Wilder. Why is everything with you go big or go home? You’re gonna get your ass shot if you fuck with this woman.”

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