Page 25 of The One I Love
“What girl?” Wes asks.
Porter looks at Simon quickly then shakes his head. “No one. Enjoy the shots. On me.”
No one reaches for the glasses as Porter heads back to the bar. “What was that?” I ask. “Did he ever date one of your sisters?”
Simon shakes his head. “Not that I’m aware of. Then again, they don’t tell me shit, and they outnumber me. But at least now I know to invite him to the Emily Babcock Regret Club. We meet every other Wednesday. Cheers.”
We clink our shot glasses on the table and throw back the drinks. “Man, I was really hoping you fucked her,”Simon said with a sigh.
“Why?” I ask. “I wouldn’t have come to your fucking club, if that’s what you wanted.”
“No. It’s not that. I just want tofinallyknow what your story is.”
Now it’s my turn to be smug. “And you’ll never know.”
The guys, especially Simon, have been on me for years to give them any clue about my personal life. I know there’s even a bet going around. I don’t know the guesses, but I can only imagine the theories. I believe one of them is that I’m a monk.
The real story is that I’m private. So private that if I’m looking for company, or need a night to truly blow off steam, I go out of town. Sometimes up to Brentwood or Franklin. Sometimes I'll just go a few towns over. No one knows me, and I don’t know them. It’s perfect for the as-needed one-night stand. There are a few women who I’ve seen on multiple occasions, but the boundaries are clearly drawn. Because that’s all I want, if it’s not Amelia. I know that’s not healthy. I know it’s probably not sane. But that’s the bed I’ve chosen to wallow in.
“Why won’t you tell us?” Wes asks. “We’re your best friends. You should trust us.”
I nod because he has a valid point. “It’s not that I don’t trust you.”
“Then what is it!” Simon yells, smacking his hand on the table. “Why won’t you fucking tell us!”
“Because I love driving you crazy.”
Simon’s eyes narrow at me. “Fuck you. I’m going to order another drink. Two of them. Top fucking shelf.”
I hear him call me a motherfucker as he walks to the bar, which just makes Wes and I laugh.
“Are you ever going to tell us?”
“One day,” I say. “But not until I’m done fucking with him.”
Chapter 8
Amelia
“Mariah!Ten-minute warning! And please make sure you bring your phone charger and whatever else you want to take. I’m not going to run it over. I don't care how much you beg!”
I let out a yawn as the bagels pop up from the toaster, scaring me more than I’d like to admit. I reach over for the pot of coffee that just finished brewing, the smell hitting my senses in the best way.
I worked my normal eleven to eleven yesterday, but for some reason, I’m more tired than usual. Maybe it was because I picked up an extra shift last week. Maybe because it’s Saturday, and my body wishes it could sleep in. I’ve also been going nonstop for the past few weeks between work and the kids, so that could be it.
Or maybe it’s because I woke up in a sweat last night after a very vivid dream involving Shane, his motorcycle, and me screaming to a deity I don't pray to.
“Yo! Earth to Mom. You awake?”
I shake my head and take a deep breath as Luke comes overand grabs one of the bagels. My oldest is always the first downstairs and ready to go each morning. Whether it’s for school during the week, or baseball practice—this morning’s agenda—you can set a watch by him. I don’t know where he got that from. It wasn’t me. Now Mariah? She inherited my knack for showing up just in the nick of time. She will come down here with two minutes to spare because she needed time to contour. I still don’t know what that is, but she insists it’s a part of her daily routine.
“Barely,” I say as he gives me a kiss on the cheek. I take a sip of my coffee as I watch him pull one of his energy drinks from the refrigerator. “Really? It’s seven in the morning and you’re already having one of those?”
“What?” He gestures to the cup in my hand that I’m holding onto like it’s a rare diamond. “How many cups of that have you had today?”
“You play dirty.”
“I learned from the best.”
