by Jamie Howard
“I…” Fuck, there are no words. Nothing, there is nothing. “I…”
Sloane leans forward with this mischievous grin on her face and cups her hands around her mouth. “Within a twenty-four-hour period.”
“Oh, my God, ew.” Blaire grabs her napkin and starts wiping her tongue.
Haley’s mouth is hanging open as she stares at me. She’s looking at me like I’m a stranger, like I’m a completely different person whom she doesn’t even recognize.
“You slept with her, and then we…” Blaire waves a hand at her mouth and then lower, gagging. “Oh, my God; oh, my God; oh, my God.” Now she’s swishing water around her mouth.
“For God’s sake Blaire, it was five years ago,” I say, my voice finally coming back to me.
“So, it’s true?” Haley asks, looking as pale as the linen tablecloth.
“Dude.” Harrison is still shaking his head.
“Yes, it’s true. I slept with Sloane and then I slept with Blaire. Happy?” I snap at her.
Disgust washes over me as I bite her head off and see tears welling in her eyes. Sloane leans back in her chair with a grin curving her lips. “Really, I’m not sure why you’re surprised. This is pretty par for the course. In fact,” she holds up a finger and then stands up.
Oh. Fuck.
Raising a water glass, she clinks a fork against it. “Excuse me, everyone. I’m sorry to interrupt your lovely dinners, but will you please raise your hand if you’ve ever slept with Luke Evans?” She points at me and I consider crawling underneath the table. I would definitely lose some man points for that. I can’t even look at Haley’s face.
There are a few snickers and more than a few raised eyebrows, but to no one’s surprise, except maybe Haley’s, a good number of hands go up. Sloane smiles at them all, thanks them, and then sits back down.
Haley balls her napkin up and tosses it on the table. Nearly upsetting the table as she stands, she stomps out of the room, drawing everyone’s attention. The whispers start, some loud, some hidden behind hands. It feels like an eighteen-wheeler just plowed me in the chest.
I’ll go after her in a few minutes when she’s had time to digest everything and calm down. I know trying to have a rational conversation with her now would be completely pointless. Although, I’m not really sure what I can say on the matter. It’s all true.
It was, in both ways, one of the highest and lowest points of my life. I pushed aside the fact that I wanted Sloane, that I needed her and cared for her, to make sure that she didn’t get sucked into the downward spiraling vortex that was my life at the time. It was one of the first altruistic things I’d ever done. At the same time, I had accomplished it by sleeping with her sister, the cleanest and easiest way I knew to break it and whatever was happening between us. Only now did I realize that by easiest, I meant easiest for me.
When I thought Sloane never found out, I held on to this tiny sliver of hope that she’d come back to Briscoll Bay and that we could make a real go of things. I realized too late that I’d tossed away the person that mattered most in my lifelike another piece of garbage, even if I was trying to do it for the right reasons. But she never came back, never returned any of my calls, and I eventually let it go. Let her go.
Then I met Haley, and she was like a breath of fresh air. She didn’t judge me for my past, because she didn’t even want to know about it. She made me feel … good. She made me feel like I was a better man, like I was worth something. Now I’m not sure if she’ll ever look at me the same way again.
Blaire is still clasping her hand over her mouth, and when she meets my eyes I can’t tell if she’s going to cry or jump across the table and claw my eyes out. Giving her dress a tug as she stands, she leaves, with Harrison following at her heels.
Sloane drains the rest of her wine and sets the empty glass on the table. “Well, it looks like my job here is finished.”
She offers her hand to Archer and he takes it in a daze. He’s got this shell-shocked look on his face that tells me he had no idea this was coming when he brought her here tonight.
As she passes my chair, she trails a hand across my shoulders and then bends to whisper in my ear. “I told you not to play this game with me, Luke.”
Disappearing across the room, the waiter comes up to me, looking curiously around the now-empty table. “Shall I bring round the check?”
* * *
I find Haley pacing around my car after I settle the bill. I forgot that she rode with me, but it seems like a small stroke of luck that she did. Her arms are folded across her chest, and her heel taps impatiently against the asphalt as she waits for me. The look on her face is not at all promising.
The ride is uncomfortably silent, and I shift back and forth in my seat, clenching and unclenching the steering wheel. I’m not sure who I’m more pissed off at—me or Sloane.
God, I’m going to fucking kill her the next time I see her. If she wanted to take it out on me, that’s one thing, but she went after Haley. She went right for the dangly bits. But my anger toward her keeps slipping through my fingers because I know I deserved it. I provoked her with the Evelyn comment. Why can’t I just mind my own damn business? Sloane isn’t my concern anymore, Haley is. And now I may have lost her because I can’t let go of the past.
I’m still trying to process the fact that she knows. What I can’t figure out, is how? Blaire didn’t tell her. And other than Blaire and me, no one knew.
Is this the reason Sloane went off the deep end? Is it my fault?
I try to swallow through the guilt that’s lodged in my throat like a rock. No, that can’t be it. I shake my head to myself. Sloane never felt that way about me. We were just friends, and while what I did might have been a dick move, it wouldn’t have been enough to send her fleeing to another country.
When I pull into Haley’s parking lot, she gets out and slams the door behind her. If I wasn’t so worried about the fact that my relationship is falling apart in front of my eyes, I’d be devoting more attention to the fact that she looks damn sexy when she’s this riled up.
I hurry after her, slapping my hand against the door to her apartment when she tries to slam it in my face. I push it open and follow her in. She throws her purse on the green sofa that we’ve spent more than one night curled up on watching a movie.
“How long has everyone been laughing at me, Luke?” She whirls around and asks me. I drag my eyes up from where her breasts are swelling above the neckline of her dress with every deep breath in she takes.
“What are you talking about?” I take a step toward her, but she takes a hasty one back.
“How long has everyone been laughing at the ridiculously stupid new girl who came into town and shacked up with the … you,” she finishes lamely with an annoyed grunt. Even this angry she can’t bring herself to call me a nasty name.
“No one’s laughing at you. I’m not that person anymore.” I’m not. I’ve been faithful to Haley since the day we decided to give this a shot. If we weren’t together, that would be an entirely different matter, but the point is I’ve kept my dick in my pants.
She snorts and turns around, kicking her shoes off. They hit the wall with a thud, rattling a hanging picture frame before they land softly on the carpet.
“Look, you’re the one who told me that my past doesn’t matter. That you were just interested in who I am now. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t want to hear it. Isn’t that what you said?”
She runs a frustrated hand through her hair. “Yes, that’s what I said. But I didn’t know you were carrying a busload of baggage with you.”
My teeth clench together. “Does it matter?”
Sinking down onto the couch, she covers her face with her hands. “I don’t know. I need time to process it all, and I think … I think I need some answers.”
My stomach does a somersault. “What kind of answers?”
She chews on her lip and then finally looks at me. “How many women?”
I blow out a breath and sit
down on the couch, taking the cushion farthest from her. Grabbing the pillow that’s uncomfortably squashed behind my back, I stuff it in my lap. “I really don’t know.”
“Twenty?”
I shake my head.
“Thirty?” Her voice rises a few decibels.
I shift my eyes from her face to the potted plant in the corner and shake my head again.
“A hundred?” she yells, picking up the couch cushion and heaving it at my face.
I snatch it from the air and throw it against the wall. “I don’t know! I didn’t count. I didn’t keep track. I was just screwing around.” I scoot across the couch toward her and grab her hand. She tries to pull it away but I tighten my grip. “None of that matters anymore because I’m with you.”
Her lip trembles and I think she’s going to cry. I hate when they cry. I never know what the hell to do. “It’s a lot to swallow. I just … I need some time.”
Standing up, I let her hand go and she curls it in her lap. Blaire tried to warn me about the cross fire, but I didn’t want to listen. Now it’s not just me that’s hurting, it’s Haley too.
Fishing the keys from my pocket, I turn to leave. If it’s space she needs, I can give that to her.
“Was there something more between you and Sloane? She just … I don’t know … sometimes the way she looks at you is so intense.”
I twirl the keys around my finger so that they jingle, catching them in my fist. “No, she fucked me out of pity. Sloane never felt anything for me.”
Chapter 32
Sloane
“Remind me again why we’re sleeping on the floor?” Archer asks.
I point to the bed. “Luke cooties.”
I’ve makeshifted a bed on the floor out of old blankets, pillows, and a brand-new comforter. I refuse to sleep in the bed where my dreams went to die. It’s dumb, I know it is, but even knowing so, I can’t change my mind.
“Speaking of Luke,” he says, folding his hands behind his head. “He’s going to be pretty pissed at me for last night. You ever think about giving me a heads-up?”
My nose is only a few inches from his armpit, but surprisingly it still smells like deodorant, not rank body odor. I’m impressed. “Honestly? No. I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t go through with it.”
“Fair enough.”
I push back the sheet and get to my feet. I stretch, balling my hands into fists and stretching up onto my toes. Archer watches me, his gaze raking up and down my naked body. I don’t mind.
“So, do you think he’ll be more or less pissed that you got sex out of the deal?” I ask, pulling on a pair of cotton shorts.
Archer leans up on one elbow, his stomach muscles contracting into an impressive six-pack. “More, probably. I guess, as his friend, I probably should have staged some sort of coup after the stunt you pulled, but…” He shrugs.
“It kinda sounds like I owe you one.”
He grins. “I’m liking the sound of that.”
“Just this once, I’m going to break one of my rules and not kick you out of the house right now. How would you like some breakfast? I’ll actually make it for you.”
“Will you cook it naked?” He waggles his eyebrows at me.
“I don’t know. Splatter.” I point toward my chest.
He hisses a breath in through his teeth. “Good point.”
“Plus, I’m pretty sure there are other people here. Not that I really mind, but I think they might.”
“Also true. Well, although I’m disappointed with the lack of naked cooking, I’ll never say no to food,” he replies, rolling over to make a grab for his pants. The sheet drifts down, exposing his great ass. I smile at the sight of it. It’s like the perfect baby’s bottom all grown up.
I shrug into my top, pulling it down. “Just to be clear, though, I don’t do relationships. This is a strictly semiplatonic breakfast, got it?”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he says, hopping up and down as he yanks on his jeans.
I slip into the bathroom to brush my teeth, and Archer joins me a few seconds later. I lift my eyebrow at him in the mirror.
“What?” he asks. “Morning breath is gross.”
Brushing and spitting in congenial harmony, we finish up and head for the kitchen. I gesture him into a chair at the kitchen table while I set about getting everything together. The tile floor is cold against my bare feet as I shove the coffee grinds into the filter. Outside, the sun is making its first appearance. Despite the late night, apparently my body is used to getting up at the ass-crack of dawn.
I lean against the counter as the coffee machine starts to make its initial popping and hissing noises. “So, what do you want? Waffles? Pancakes? Bacon?”
“Pancakes and bacon sounds great. You wouldn’t happen to have any chocolate chips, would you?”
I scrunch my lips to the side. “We probably do somewhere.”
Rummaging through the cabinets, it takes me a few seconds to find the errant chocolate chips, but when I do, I toss them down on the counter. I twist my hair up in a messy knot on top of my head to make sure I don’t accidentally set it on fire, and get to work.
In no time flat, the smell of crisping bacon wafts through the entire room. The aroma must have drifted farther than I thought, because a few minutes later, Blaire zombie-walks into the room. Hair a mess and wearing her pajamas, she rubs at her still-closed eyes.
“Gran, that smells so good. I could eat an elephant right now.”
“Sorry, sweetcheeks,” I say, pointing the spatula her way. “I’m not Gran.”
Her head snaps up and she glares at me. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out humping someone?”
I direct the spatula toward Archer. “I did my humping here last night, thanks.”
Jerking her head to the side, she turns her glare to Archer. I’m getting whiplash just watching her. “Really? After everything that happened last night, you still came home with this one?”
“I have a name,” I shout over my shoulder.
“Sex, food.” He shrugs. “Who am I to refuse?”
Blaire makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, but instead of heading for the table, she walks in my direction. Out of the corner of my eye I catch her take a deep breath in and fold her arms across her chest. “You know I didn’t know Luke slept with you, right? I mean, you told me to go for it, so I never thought anything of it when he approached me,” she says to me in a hushed voice.
Her words ring around in my head—“when he approached me.” Not the other way around. Not: he didn’t put up a fight when I hit on him. I grind my teeth together, feeling the fresh spread of pain all over again. “How would you have known? It’s not like Luke was going to say anything.”
“But why didn’t you? God, if I’d known, I wouldn’t have—”
“Really?” I say, finally turning to look at her. My anger spikes until it’s nearly boiling over. “This you want to apologize for, but you have no issues with lying to my face for years?”
A tiny muscle jumps underneath her right eye as we stare each other down, color rushing into her cheeks. Her mouth moves ever so slightly, like she’s talking to herself but doesn’t want to say the words out loud, where I might be able to hear them.
I shake it off and turn back to the stove, searching for the great mood I was basking in only a few minutes ago. A part of me realizes Blaire is trying to wave the white flag, to put the past behind us and move on. But the other part of me is still raw and bitter, so incredibly bitter and betrayed. I try to put it aside and offer my own peace treaty in return. “You know,” I say to her, “if you ask really nicely, I might be persuaded to make you breakfast since I’m in such a fabulous mood this morning.”
“Still gloating over last night?” she asks, slumping down into a chair.
I shove the spatula under one of the pancakes and flip it over in the pan. “It was quite a rousing success, if I do say so myself.” If I’m being honest, which, let’s f
ace it, isn’t all that often anymore, I’m just glad it’s over. There’s nothing enjoyable about intentionally hurting someone, but sometimes it’s a necessary evil. I can only hope that last night’s shit show was enough to get them to back off.
“What was a rousing success?” Harrison asks, stumbling into the kitchen in his pajama pants. He yawns and drops into another chair.
“My skills in the bedroom,” Archer says with a wink in my direction.
“Gross,” Blaire says, looking like she’s tasted sour milk.
“Grosser than you and Luke right after Sloane?” Archer asks with the slightest edge to his voice. I can’t help but think that he’s trying to protect me, that he’s even a little angry on my behalf for how things went down.
Blaire shudders, her body quivering like she’s trying to shake off her skin.
“Breakfast, Harrison?” I ask, putting an overflowing plate of pancakes and bacon in front of Archer.
“Hell, yes.” He glances at Blaire. “Aren’t you eating, babe?”
She looks longingly at Archer’s plate of food and bites her lip.
“She hasn’t asked nicely,” I say, returning to the stove. The bacon fat sizzles in the pan, little droplets of it leaping out and splattering my shirt. See, it’s a good thing I wasn’t naked.
I whip up a few more pancakes. Flipping them onto a plate, we all turn at the sound of the front door opening and closing. Seconds later, Luke and Haley walk into the kitchen hand in hand. Surprising. I thought the little chick would have run away from the big scary lion by now.
There are confused looks exchanged all around.
“What is this, a halfway house?” I ask.
“Are you including yourself in that reference?” Blaire snaps.
Harrison covers another yawn with the back of his hand. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Bunny invited us. She woke my ass up an hour ago when she called,” Luke says, frowning. “Where is she?”
“No idea,” Harrison replies.
I scoot by the two newcomers to hand Harrison his cup of coffee and food. He sticks it under his nose, inhaling it like he can breathe in the caffeine. Picking up a piece of bacon, he chomps down on it.