Page 18 of Dibs
“You’re welcome. You all good?” I bite my lip, angling my body away from Beck so she can’t see my tented jeans.
“All good.” Beck nods. “Go do what you gotta do. See you soon.”
Beck turns and walks back toward her bedroom, and I take the moment to escape.
Except all I feel is shame as I walk to my Jeep and climb in. What Beck needs is a friend, not a horny guy who lingers too long in the bathroom to glimpse the incredible view of her backside. Not a guy who hoped fervently she’d turn, so he’d get an eyeful of her amazing breasts—though it’s not as if I don’t have them memorized in my brain. I’d taken a mental picture when she was drunk at the wedding, and damn it, I feel as guilty about that as I do my questionable actions today.
After I drive home, I get into a cold shower and wonder how the hell I’m going to keep my eyes and hands off Aspyn Beckett until she’s ready to move on.
I might die trying.
11
ASPYN
Tara returns from her honeymoon the next day, dragging Wendy and Marissa over to Sean’s place, where I’m still living. I no longer think of it as my own, even though I’ve lived here for eight years. We all curl up on the couches to watch a slideshow she’d put together of photos and videos from her Caribbean trip.
We sit, drinking Prosecco, giving the standard 'oohs' and 'aahs' over the honeymoon montage.
As I watch, a text comes through from an unknown number that Sean must be using, since I’d blocked his phone from contacting me.
21 days. -Sean
I long to tell him to fuck off, but ignore the text, instead, well aware that it’s been seven full days since our breakup. Twenty-one more days to move out. I hate that he’s sent me a reminder that this place would be a memory soon, and I’d be settling back into my parents’ house, a half hour farther from my friends, in a couple of weeks.
When the topic shifts to Sean and his baby mama, I squirm uncomfortably on the couch and deny giving a shit.
“He’s moving her in here as soon as you leave,” Tara says, reaching out to squeeze my hand tightly. “Sorry to be the one to tell you. I told him to lose my number for a while. Can’t help but be so angry with him for the way he treated you and the bullshit he fed Cody about you being infertile. That’s unforgivable. Have you heard from him?”
Fresh tears spring to my eyes. I wipe them away furiously, pissed that I have even a single tear left in me to cry over Sean. “Just long enough for him to remind me how many days he’s giving me before he moves Nurse Q in.”
“That makes me so mad—he’s got someone lined up like the last decade meant nothing. I want to kick him in his lying, cheating dick,” Marissa says, crunching a mouthful of popcorn.
“His black eye is pretty epic, though,” Tara tells us with a laugh. “I mean, he deserved it. Mom sent him home as soon as she saw it, after what I heard was quite a lecture. I believe she referred to you, Aspyn, as ‘the best you could possibly do.’ Mama meant business.”
Okay, that makes me feel moderately better. Cecile is usually kind and gentle, so to know she stood up for me to her own son gives me the warm fuzzies.
I let out a gigantic sigh, and Wendy laughs as she looks up from her phone. “Sean’s already cheating on this Nurse Q. Jett just accidentally sent me a video on his phone. He’s at the club with Sean, and he most definitely has his hand up some tramp’s crop top.” Wendy gawks at the phone with her eyebrows raised so high they nearly hit her hairline.
“Aspyn doesn’t need to see that!” Marissa plucks the phone out of Wendy’s hand, but I grab it out of hers so quickly, I manage to hit play on the video to see it with my own two eyes. Yep, there he is, cheating on his pregnant girlfriend, whichis clear only between the flashes of the strobe lights overhead. They’re practically getting it on right there on the dance floor, her circling her hips back against Sean’s dark jeans, the expensive pair I got him for his birthday.
“Gross,” I say, but it’s kind of like a train wreck I don’t want to look away from. It’s only a twenty-second video, but it’s such a good example of the person Sean Wright really is. Grinding with a random girl who looks about a decade too young for him, while his knocked-up Nurse Q probably sits at home waiting for him, like I had done so many of the past 3,650 days.
Nah. No more.
I hand Wendy back her phone with a smile. “Hey, you know the best part of this?”
Wendy arches a perfectly threaded eyebrow while Tara stares at me, as if wondering how I could possibly answer that particular question.
“It’s not me he’s cheating on.” I press my lips together to keep from laughing, but the edges pull up too hard not to bust out an ear-to-ear grin.
Tara gives me a high five while Wendy bursts into giggles.
I jump up and run to the freezer, where I’m storing one hell of an expensive tequila. Finding champagne flutes, I pour the delicious liquid, and then I cut lime wedges for all of us, set them on a platter, and carefully carry everything back to the coffee table.
“I’ve seen saving this tequila for the right moment, and guess what? This is it.” I hand out the drinks and bring mine up to my nose to take a whiff of it. The color has a beautiful, slightly golden hue, indicating that it was aged for a long time in oak barrels.
“Ahhh, this is the stuff. First, we aerate it by just giving it a gentle swish. Then, we smell.” I demonstrate, and my friends follow along.
