Page 10 of Forever Fighting
“Riiiight. I honestly don’t want to challenge you on that. You say you hand out orgasms to women like they’re M&M’s, and I believe you.” She takes another sip of wine. “He never made me scream. That’s all I’m saying.”
I toss the pasta into the salted water. “She might have been faking, but he certainly never gave you a proper orgasm then. You should have been screaming every night.”
A flush spreads up her cheeks, and she stares down at the counter. I’m a fucking idiot for saying that. That wasn’t helpful to her at all.
“Brae—”
She waves me away. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not, but whatever. I found them like that and left. But I feel so dumb. I was going to marry him. I planned to spend my entire life with him. Mapped out our future. I’ve known him since I was fourteen. How long has he been cheating on me, and I was totally clueless about it?”
I finish up the pasta and slice the chicken, plating it up with a sprinkle of Italian parsley and more parmesan. “You’re not dumb,” I tell her adamantly as I put her bowl in front of her along with a napkin, fork, and spoon. “He’s the asshole and I can’t defend him even if he’s my friend. Weak men cheat. Callous men cheat. I can’t tell you why he did it, and I haven’t talked to him to hear his side, not that it really matters or could excuse anything. I just know he’s a fool for cheating on you and an arrogant prick because he didn’t think he’d get caught. He’s the dumb one, and now I get to kill him.”
“I don’t want to ask if that’s hyperbole or not.”
I smirk at her as I twirl the pasta around my fork with myspoon. “Probably best if you don’t. That way you can deny knowledge of anything and aren’t an accomplice.”
She sighs, and a tear hits her cheek that breaks my fucking heart. I hate seeing Braelyn sad. Fuckinghateit.
“Three years of my life—hell, almost thirteen years of my life—are over, and right now, I’m riddled with a million questions and self-doubts. It’s a shitty feeling. Incidentally, you likely have an invitation to my wedding waiting in your mailbox.”
I got their wedding invitation this morning. I stared at that fucker for a solid ten minutes before I shoved it in a random drawer. Yes, I’m her maid of honor and his best man. Yes, I was going to stand by their side and try not to raise my hand when the pastor asked if anyone objected to this wedding. That invitation hurt. Her wedding was going to kill me, and I had plans to get very drunk that night. But I was going to kiss her cheek and tell her she was the world’s most beautiful bride and shake his hand and tell him he was the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet and be there as my best friends got married.
All I want is for her to be happy, and right now she’s not. I wish I knew how to fix this for her. I wish I knew how to take her hurt away.
“You can stay here as long as you want. As long as you need. Hell, you can stay forever.”
Her head falls to my shoulder. “Thank you. I might take you up on that for a bit.”
I kiss the top of her wet hair, leaving an imprint of moisture and the smell of my shampoo on my lips.
“You’ll have the place to yourself next week.”
“Huh?” She pops her head up, but recognition instantly flickers in her eyes. “Oh, right. You’re going to Las Vegas for your restaurant opening and then to Mexico. What are you doing there again?”
“Overseeing the setup of a restaurant in one of the resortsthere. They need me to come in and approve the final specs and things on it.”
She picks up her fork and starts twirling her pasta. “Right. Lucky you. I wish I could go to Vegas and Mexico,” she mutters in an offhand way, but it sparks something big and bright and possibly insane in my head.
“Why can’t you?”
Her fork stops mid-twirl, and she curiously tilts her head to me. “Why can’t I what?”
“Come with me to Vegas and Mexico.”
4
BRAELYN
“Are you asking or offering?” I question, blinking at my friend, unsure what this odd bubbling feeling his words spurred in my stomach is all about.
He stares at me, and while I’m blinking, he’s not at all. “Both,” he says after a pause.
“You’re serious?”
He shrugs. “Sure.”
“I can’t go with you.”
He tilts his head and studies me. “Why not?”
