Page 32 of High Water
“He told you that?”
“We’re still friends. Co-parenting and all that. Besides. I don’t mind. I’m happy for him. Everyone thinks I’m supposed to hate him. I don’t. Just because we didn’t work out doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve to be happy.”
“So you’re not still pining after him?”
“No. Not at all. I just—” I stop short when I realize I’m not talking to Dakota or Hazel, or one of my friends back in Boston. Bishop has a way of making me feel at ease. Even after all this time.
“Just what?”
“I just want to get it out of the way.”
“You’re gonna have to be more specific, Jones.” But I can tell from his smirk he has an inkling of what I mean.
“The first one-night stand. All my other divorced friends said it’s usually a little awkward, but it’s uphill from there. So I figure the sooner, the better.” I feel like I’m oversharing, and when he stays silent, I ramble on, teasing him by gently punching his shoulder. “And you’re ruining all my prospects!”
“Can’t blame me for not wanting to watch you dance with someone else, Jones.”
“Well, I think you’ve scared them all away. For tonight at least.”
“Good.”
“How would you like it if I did that to you?”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
“Your girlfriend might.”
“No girlfriend.”
“Lover. Friend with benefits. Whatever you want to call her.”
He pretends to be deep in thought and then shakes his head. “None of those either.”
“You can’t expect me to believe you’re going home alone every night.”
“Nah. Some nights, I take care of the mother of my child while she flirts with my friend.”
“I was not flirting with him! I was being friendly. Who flirts when they’re snotty and raspy and wearing sweats? Not me.”
“He was bragging about it is all I’m saying. Even while she was sick in bed, Aspen Stockton took time to tell him what a hero he was.” Bishop’s trying hard not to crack a smile and failing.
“Aspen Stockton. Like I’m some sort of celebrity. Please.” I roll my eyes as another song starts. I’ve lost track of which number it is. I’m too lost in my conversation with him to care.
“I think you underestimate the way a room stops when you walk in.”
“I think you overestimate my importance. It’s proximity to power that makes people look twice, not me. They fear my brothers and want gossip to run home with about our family. Or something that gives them hope that one of my brothers is single again. I’m half certain that Grant and Dakota’s wedding day is going to be declared a town-wide day of mourning.” I catch a glimpse of the table that was watching me earlier and see one of them leaning over to whisper to her friend. “And you won’t even let me give them something to talk about in the group chat tomorrow.”
“Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Yeah, well… You’ll have to make it up to me.”
“How’d you like me to do that?”
I could think of a half dozen ways this man was very good at making me forget why I was ever mad in the first place. He turns me around, spinning us in a way that has his arms crossing over my body and my back flush against him, his lips close to my ear as he hums along to the song and his cologne enveloping me.
“I’ve got a room upstairs.”
The words are out before I can stop them. It’s impulsive. Reckless even.
