Page 57 of Three Bossy Boyfriends
I’m shocked that Evan has been fired. I feel outraged and annoyed by that. Theoretically, I get it. But emotionally, it infuriates me on his behalf. Evan is the first one in the office every morning and usually the last to leave. He’s fantastic with clients, he has a memory that an elephant would envy, and his strategies are always thorough and brilliant. He leaves no room for error.
It’s been niggling at me all afternoon that if Evan and I weren’t fake dating and having real sex—or had, it was only once—this wouldn’t have happened.
Because if they had been caught in a compromising position without me in the equation, maybe Mary Grace could have been talked off the ledge.
And maybe they wouldn’t have been in a compromising position if Christopher wasn’t thinking about Evan fucking and feeling more than a little bit left out. Here he’s been lusting after Evan for a year, and I swoop in and get fucked first. That’s bound to stir up a hefty dose of give-me-some-of-that.
“I don’t know if I should say this or not…” Kyle starts.
That has me curious. “Sure, go for it.”
“I don’t know. I can’t decide if this will make you feel better or worse.”
“Well, now you’ve already said something, so you have to tell me. Otherwise, I’ll just spiral.”
“I saw Christopher and Evan in the conference room once, and Christopher was doing that thing where you stroke someone’s hand. You know, like seductively.”
That almost makes me giggle. She really didn’t need to add that latter part. I absolutely knew what she meant.
“I think they’ve been interested in each other for a while.” Kyle glances at me. “Not that it makes it okay,” she adds hastily. “I’m not saying that. It’s so not cool. I’m just saying I think there was…tension there.”
Acting like the injured party when it’s not even remotely true is hard as hell. I’m not a very good actress. I wear my feelings on my face. I also don’t like the idea that any of this is painting Evan and Christopher in a bad light.
Neither of them did anything wrong other than decide they wanted to be lawyers.
When I don’t respond, Kyle starts babbling. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. That makes it sound worse. Like Evan didn’t have honest intentions with you. God, Finley, I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this. You and Evan have been dating for nine months, and now I feel so terrible about all this that I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m so freaking awkward when emotional things are happening.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I’m kind of glad to see that you have a flaw. Until just now I was convinced you were perfect.”
Kyle gives a startled laugh as she pulls onto my sisters’ street. “Definitely not perfect. I’ve been described as extremely capable yet frighteningly cold-hearted.”
“That’s really harsh.” It is. “You’re definitely capable, but cold-hearted is far from the truth. You’ve always been sweet and helpful to me.”
“A Tinder date told me that.”
“Well, fuck him.” I mean it. “He was obviously intimidated by your awesomeness.”
“Her, actually. But thank you. And I’m supposed to be cheering you up, not the other way around.”
“You’re doing an excellent job. Want to come in and hang out for a little bit? I could use a buffer between me and my sisters’ mothering. They’re going to be so sympathetic it’s going to hurt.”
“I’d love to if you’re sure you want company.”
“I’m sure. I’ve already gotten ten OMG texts from Fiona and seven that just have crying emojis from Frannie. My mom also tried to FaceTime me, which I did not answer because I was at the office, and my dad sent me a text that just said, “We love you.” I love them all for it, but everyone is just a mess.”
My point is proven when the front door is thrown open before I’m even halfway up the porch steps and my sisters come rushing out.
“Finley, oh my God, baby,” Frannie says, throwing her arms around me and hugging me so hard it hurts.
It actually feels comforting. I did have a rough day, if not for the reason everyone thinks. I pull back and stare at her in astonishment. “Are you crying?”
She is. Frannie has tears running down her face as she nods. “I’m so sad for you. I could just…slap that man!”
I wipe the tears off of her face, very touched by her anger. “Those are fighting words from you, Francine. Damn. It’s okay. And please never call me baby ever again.”
“Come inside. You need ice cream immediately.”
Fiona also reaches out and gives me a fierce hug. “I love you,” she says.
