Page 80 of The Biting Bargain

As if I have awakened from a far too pleasant dream. But as with most things in my life that have felt good and nice and pleasant, once again it was too good and nice and pleasant to be true.

And after sleeping ten hours of zombie sleep and a round of crying afterwards — because apparently that's what you do when you fall miserably in love with a completely unattainable guy — I called Marigold. Marigold alerted the rest of the girls, and everyone but Grace is now here in my cramped living room, munching Marigold’s cupcakes, drinking wine, and trying on my new wardrobe.

Marigold, however, is sitting on my little red armchair, legs pulled up to her body, balancing her wine glass on her knees, giving me a look that tells me she completely sees through my bullshit.

I have nothing to say and give a helpless, sad grimace that feels just as hollow and stupid as my heart.

* * *

"Honestly?Count your lucky stars you're rid of that guy."

About three hours later, it's just Marigold and me at the counter at Midnight Harbor, and a rather angry Grace serving us our third round of shots. "You were obviously just a means to an end for him. And you need people like that in your life about as badly as you need a goiter."

Marigold purses her lips. "Isn't that a little harsh?"

"Come on." Grace props herself up on the counter, glaring. She’s a gorgeous lightborn fae with gorgeous boobs — and tonight she is obviously full of opinions. "We're all grown up here, right? We know what we want, right? And do we want guys who mistreat us?"

"Of course not, but..."

"Do we want guys who send us mixed signals?"

"Also no, but my point is..."

"No, we don’t." Grace points an accusing finger at us. "We don't want guys, we want real men. Men who know what they want. Men who know they want us. And compromising on that is a slippery slope that inevitably ends with a broken heart and completely shattered self-respect. Therefore, mark my words, you're a million times better off without a guy who bails as soon as things get serious. Cheers, ladies."

Grace, toasts us and downs her tequila shot.

Marigold and I exchange a look.

"You really thought long and hard about that, huh?" Marigold asks. Grace glowers at her over her glass. Marigold chuckles and sips her shot. I drink it slowly. The tequila goes down my throat like lava but does nothing to quell the rotten feeling inside me.

Grace is right. And she knows what she's talking about. Her last boyfriend treated her horribly, and for years, so my story is of course a total ball-buster for her.

But it doesn't change the fact that I was the one foolish enough to fall for the vampire. Against all my good intentions. Watching as it happened. Knowing full well I was going to get hurt.

"It's not that." I set my glass on the counter.

"What do you mean?"

"He was very clear from the start that it was just a business deal," I say somberly, disregarding Grace's snort. "I'm the one who has trouble separating sex and feelings."

"He could have just respected your boundaries," Grace hisses, refilling our glasses. "You said it yourself: no perks."

"I didn’t respect my own boundaries, actually," I sigh. "Vincent didn't do anything I didn't want him to."

"Hmph." Grace sets the bottle down on the counter with a thud.

"It still sucks," Marigold says and I have trouble keeping it together. It's not like me to have tears lurking so close to the surface. So I quickly down the next shot and stifle the upcoming emotions.

Stupid Polly.

"Yeah, it sucks," I mutter.

Marigold clears her throat. "This isn't the kind of situation where the whole matter could be resolved with a simple conversation, is it?"

"Not likely," Grace says in a tone of conviction, coming pretty close to my gut feeling.

"How about you just call him again," Marigold says, spinning her empty shot glass on the counter like a gyroscope. "After all, it is possible that he does have feelings for you."

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