Page 25 of Sweeter

I peel away, unnoticed by anyone. My heart is starting to pound against my ribs. I really didn’t want to fuck up Marley’s event, but every second I can’t find her the worst I feel. Calling her to explain is the obvious solution, but she won’t have her phone on her—it makes her too nervous. I could have called Anna, ex-sugar baby and Marley’s PA, but Anna can be a bit…dramatic.

A hard tap on the shoulder makes me turn. Speak of the devil. Anna glares at me, her dark brown eyes full of the same loathing that inspired her to pitch a drink into my face the night we met. I raise my hands to head height. “Don’t kill me. Where’s Marley?”

“Hiding, so no one makes her take a picture with your supermodel, influencer ex-girlfriend.” Anna punches my shoulder. “The fuck were you thinking, Hat Boy?”

“I thought it would be good for Marley’s career!”

Anna bares her teeth. “I’m good for her career. Instagram is good for her career. You, when you’re not acting like a gigantic assclown, is good for Marley’s career. You starting drama at her first New York event, on the other hand…” Her fist comes at me again. I step backward. “I’m not staring drama. Jessop is cool and she likes Marley’s stuff—”

“So why didn’t you tell the girl you wanted to invite her?”

“It was really last minute! I didn’t have—”

Anna punches me again, fast as a rattlesnake strike. “You don’t learn, do you,Hat Boy? You never get out of your own dumbass way andaskpeople what they want.”

I think I know what she’s referring to, and I wholeheartedly object. “This is not the same as me transferring Marley start-up money in secret—”

Anna slaps a hand over my mouth. “Shut your face. If I wanted to hear pre-adolescent whining, I’d wake up my daughter. You’re officially on damage control. You have twenty minutes to make Marley the nervously optimistic woman she was before Jessop Taylor showed up.”

I swallow. “Okay. I can do this. I can fix this. Where is she?”

I climb the marble stairs to the room where Marley had her hair and make up done. My heart is hammering against my chest. I thought I was doing the obvious thing, inviting Jessop but Anna has a point. Marley doesn’t really like surprises, not even spontaneous trips to Taco Bell. And me bringing my ex-girlfriend to her art show is hardly an unexpected crunchwrap supreme.

Nothing you can do about it now, Faulkner. Just get in there and remind your girl why she puts up with you.

I run a hand across my hair, straighten my tie and knock on the door Anna directed me to.

“What?” calls a familiar voice. Goddamn, even when I’m nervous as shit my heart still pulses when I hear her. Love is so fucking wild.

“It’s me,” I say. “Can I come in.”

There’s a short pause. “Fine,” Marley says. “But I’m warning you, I’m pissed.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

I mean it. It’s always good to know what your partner is feeling. That was one of the things that drove me and Jessop apart—whenever I did something, she didn’t like she’d say ‘that’s fine’ then two weeks later, when she was drunk, she’d go off on me. For a second I debate telling Marley this, as a sign of why we’re a much better couple—then I realize that might be the single dumbest idea of all time. I ruffle my hair again and open the door.

Marley is sitting on a make up table, her back to the mirror. Her legs are bare, her feet swinging through the air, but only an idiot would mistake her for mood for playful. Her eyes are green slits.

“So,” she says. “You’ve escorted your ex to my show without telling me about it.”

Fuck she’s pretty. Her lilac dress and dark make up make her look like an evil, sexy pixie. I want to tell her so, but that’s the second dumbest idea of all time.

“I’m sorry about bringing Jessop here without telling you,” I say as quickly as I can get the sounds out. “Nothing is going on between us. She DM’d me because she’s in town and a fan of your work and I knew that if I brought her it would mean great things for your show.”

Marley’s eyes narrow dangerously.

“Ithoughtit would mean great things for your show,” I correct. “I don’t know shit about anything.”

Marley glares at me. “Why didn’t you let Anna know?”

The cutting point. A million excuses push at my mind, sperm hustling for the egg of what to say. The third dumbest idea of all time. I force myself to hold her gaze. “Because I didn’t want her to tell you and have you say that Jessop shouldn’t come. Because regardless of whether she can make you a success or not, she can bring up the exposure for this event by a million percent.”

Marley nods coldly. The truth is the answer she’s already guessed. That’s the thing about lying to someone who knows you so well. “You don’t think I want to be successful?”

I hesitate. I don’t want to dig my whole any deeper, but the truth cuts both ways. Marley taught me that. “I know you want to be successful, but you’re proud.”

Marley jumps off the desk, her feet hitting the floor lightly. “Too proud?”

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