Page 179 of Double or Nothing

Loose.

Playboy.

Nothing reaches me unless I invite it, and I definitely haven’t invited this.

“I don’t,” I lie. “Not my circus. I’m just trying to be rational.”

Alice’s expression hardens even more. “You set up the Hammersmith auction for me.”

“Because your paintings are good, yes.”

“You spent sixty grand on the first three you saw, even though you don’t like art.”

“Charitable impulse and wanting to get into your panties.” I hold up my hands. Another smile. “There, I admitted it. Finally.”

“You sent them to Bryce,” she continues.

“His walls were depressing. They needed some colour.”

Her eyes are so firm, they won’t let up. I hate the way they dig into me.

“You’ve spent days bringing us back together every time one of us panics.”

“Public service. And it was only one day. Maybe two.”

“You ordered a weekly box of cheese, for God’s sake!”

“That was for me.”

Her eyes narrow.

“I haven’t had enough caffeine for this façade, Jack, so stop being a jackass and just answer the question. Why do you care?”

I could answer. That’s the truly horrifying part.

I have answers.

Because her joy when she found out about the auction was so uplifting it felt like I was winning at life itself. Because Bryce sent me a toastie maker and somehow turned cheesy crusts into a warm embrace that felt like coming home. Because my apartment no longer feels alive when they aren’t in it with me.

Part of me wants to tell her. Put my cards flat on the table and show my hand for real. But no, I can’t.

Absolutely not.

Instead, I pick up my coffee. Take a decent swig.

“Everyone plays their own game, Soul Girl.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

She looks disappointed.

I hate that.

I hate everything about this conversation.

I finish up my drink, but the coffee tastes bitter in my mouth.