42. Jenny
JENNY
Cole sure was being an ass. When we first pulled up at the Prudential, I refused to leave the car—I wanted to run away. What had I been thinking, coming back to work for him? I lied when I told myself I was doing it for Audrey. I’d lied when I told myself it was to keep up appearances so Cole didn’t find out about his father. No, I’d come back for me .
And there I was, getting exactly what I deserved.
I sat in the back of the Escalade, praying that Cole would start being nice to me and stop being so cold. That didn’t exactly happen—we snapped at each other on the sidewalk and gave each other the silent treatment in the elevator.
Still, I went inside the restaurant and obediently perused the menu. I had a job to do, after all. I had a million dollars to earn. I had Cole’s father, Lewis Scary-Dickhead Bryson, to appease. I needed to be Audrey’s maid of honor and keep Elena out of bankruptcy court. So I adjusted my expectations; my night was going to suck completely, but I would survive. That was the end of the story.
But then we started drinking…
I chased two double rum punches with a massive glass of wine. Cole did the same. Both of us could handle our alcohol. We’d proven that on vacation, drinking even the boozy bridesmaids under the table. Still, I felt woozy once I started mynextglass of wine.
Woozy was better than heartbroken.
Cole had been so cold to me that I’d literally been shivering. But the rum and the wine started warming me up. It loosened our tongues, at least a little bit. And once we started talking—even though it was just about our dinner orders—some unease that had made my whole body tense subsided a little.
Cole poured me yet another glass of wine; I knew I was making a deal with the alcohol devil. I would pay for this in the morning. I hated being hungover. The only thing worse was losing control, which was what would happen next.
Still, I’d rather get shitfaced than feel my other Feelings. You know, the ones with a capital “F”—fear, frustration, fury… fondness. I didn’t want to feel any of those things. It wasn’t safe to.
So shitfaced it was.
“We’d like more wine,” I hiccuped to the server when he reappeared with our food.
“And four more double rum punches,” Cole added.
“Keep ’em coming.” I waved my fingers around in a little circle, the universal sign for we fucking need it. The server nodded and hustled off, bless his heart.
“He loves us,” Cole said, jerking his thumb at our server’s retreating figure. “That wine costs nine hundred dollars a bottle.”
“Oops,” I hiccuped, “sorry.”
Cole shrugged. “I was going to order more, anyway.”
Once my hiccups subsided, I had a bite of my beef carpaccio. Even though eating was not on my newly scheduled agenda of drinking myself silly, I enjoyed it. “This is good,” I admitted. The words just slipped out; I wasn’t even sure whether talking to Cole was safe. Despite my growing buzz, I was still afraid to.
“This is good, too.” Cole cut a piece of steak and handed it to me. “Do you want to try it?”
“Sure,” I said, sounding more calm than I felt. The fact that Cole had said five consecutive words to me and was handing me a fork felt like an olive branch. It was the nicest he’d been to me all day.
The beef was tender and juicy. “It’s delish,” I declared.
He nodded. “Is yours really okay?”
“Mm-hmm.” The server deposited more drinks and more bottles of wine, clearing away the empties. We each had an eager, unnecessary sip. Maybe if I were drunk, it wouldn’t count if I talked to Cole like a human being. “It’s a real pretty view,” I said, motioning to the city stretching below us.
He looked up at me, and I caught it—a flash of relief in his blue, blue eyes. “I was hoping you’d like it,” he admitted.
“You were?”
He nodded, then looked back down at his plate. “I think I’m pretty buzzed,” he said.
“Yeah. Me too.”
He took a deep breath. “Do you want to just get drunk?”
A little zip of excitement tickled my belly. I wasn’t sure why Cole was asking, but it seemed promising. “I thought that’s what we were doing.”
He shrugged his big shoulders. “I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.” He sounded like a little boy, lost and looking for some sign of encouragement.
“We’re on the same page.” I pulled my chair closer to his. I could feel the energy radiating off of him. Cole, my Cole, was so close. He was just below the surface of that gloomy but handsome exterior.
And that was all I wanted: him.
Even if I paid for it tomorrow—and every day after that for forever—it was worth it. I just had to feel him, to be close to him one last time. Otherwise, I might seriously lose my mind.
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
“Cheers,” he said, raising his fresh rum punch to mine. “To tonight.”
“To tonight.”
He hesitated. And then he slowly reached over and put his hand on my thigh.
At that moment, I was pretty sure I knew what heaven felt like because I died a little bit from happiness.
“The thing is ,” I said, jabbing my finger in the air for emphasis, “red velvet’s the best because it’s red . And I don’t even really like the color red, but it’schocolate in disguise.Do you even get that?”
“I don’t think that changes things,” Cole argued.
I stuffed some of my cupcake into my mouth. “Red,” I said through a mouthful. “It’s genius. Chocolate in disguise. Go ahead and take notes.”
“Vanilla’s better,” Cole insisted. “Because it’svanilla. It doesn’t have to hide.”
“That’s because it’s freakin’ boring!” I said, raising my voice. “Red velvet’s the best because you don’t even know what it is until you bite into it. Then— voila !” I polished off my cupcake for emphasis. “It gives you everything you ever wanted and more.”
People were staring. We’d claimed a bench at Faneuil Hall Marketplace, and our neighbors had jumped tables to escape us. That’s how drunk we were. Drunk and loud, arguing over who had the best cupcake, Cole or me.
“You’ve got frosting on your face.” He gently wiped me with a napkin. “My frosting’s better, by the way. It’s buttercream—light and airy.”
“It’s not better,” I argued. “Buttercream’s for pussies. It’s barely frosting. It’s a frosting aberration .”
“Nah, you’re wrong.” Cole made kissy faces at his cupcake. “Buttercream’s my bitch.”
I threw up my hands. “Cream cheese frosting is the best! Everybody knows that.”
The security guard glanced over at us. I should probably lower my voice.
“We should go, huh?” I stage-whispered. “I think we’re drunk.”
“I know we’re drunk.” Cole laughed. “So, yeah, let’s go.”
He stood up, cleared our plates, and returned to me. Cole extended his hand. Grinning, I took it. He pulled me against him, and we staggered out of the market. “Thanks for the cupcake,” I hiccuped.
“Mine was better, but you’re still welcome.”
I leaned against him, as much because I was drunk as because I wanted to. I’d been dying to be close to Cole again. And there we were, finally. He put his hand on my ass, and I sighed happily. “You’re a frosting traitor, but I’m still happy to be back,” I said. I was clearly drunk as shit.
Cole was, too. “Yeah.” He kissed the top of my head. “I’m happy you’re back, too.”
“I don’t wanna talk about anything too deep,” I yawned, stumbling over the cobblestone sidewalk, “but I sure missed you a lot.”
“I’m too drunk to make sense of that.” Cole held me up as he waved for his driver. “So, can we agree not to talk about anything important?”
“Sure thing, Coley.” My head throbbed as he helped me into the Escalade. The drive back to Fifty Liberty was real quick, and thank goodness. I wasn’t feeling too good.
Cole kept his arm around me. “Is the carspinning?” he asked.
“Nah. Just don’t look out the window,” I counseled. “It’s better if you close your eyes.”
We gripped each other until we arrived, and then, somehow, the driver helped us out. Cole and I staggered toward the lobby. Amari held the door open for us, a worried expression on his face. “Are you two okay?”
Cole nodded, but he held up his hand. “Can’t. Talk.”
“Must. Pass. Out,” I finished for him.
We collapsed inside the elevator. “Your place or mine?” Cole asked.
“Mine. It’s closer. I might not make it to the penthouse.” I gripped the wall until we reached my floor. We spilled out, somehow punched in the code, and made it inside.
Cole headed for the first couch he saw. “Babe. I’m too drunk to fuck.”
“Ha! We aren’t doing that anyway—your lawyers said so.” Laughing made my head hurt. “But it doesn’t matter. I can’t evenwalk!”
“Me either. You take that couch.” Cole pointed to the one adjacent to his. “Here. Blanket.”
He tossed a tasteful, cozy, neutral throw onto my couch. I somehow wrenched off my shoes and my dress and gratefully climbed underneath it.
Before I passed out, I heard Cole say, “I love you, Jenny. I’m mad at you, but I still love you.”
“You were a real dick tonight, so I’m mad at you too. But s’okay. I still love you too, Coley.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He started snoring. I tucked my blanket around me.
Good thing neither one of us was going to remember any of this in the morning.
Something was buzzing. Beep. Beep. Beep. It hurt my head.
“Stop it,” I mumbled. It hurt to mumble. It hurt to hear buzzing. “Oh my god, stop…” I blearily opened my eyes and saw my bag on the floor. The buzzing was emanating from it.
Glaring at my bag didn’t make the noise stop. I lunged for it, the effort almost Herculean based on the depth of hangover hell I was currently experiencing. I rummaged through the bag and grabbed my phone. I turned the ringer off—I had trouble getting my thumbs to work but somehow managed it.
A text message flashed across the screen. The number looked familiar.
My stomach was already in bad shape and roiled.
I clicked on the message, even though my head hurt so bad that I wasn’t sure I could read it.
Saw a pic of you and your billionaire
It was my auntie Theresa. Fuck me. She attached a picture of Cole and me from the night before—someone must’ve snapped it and posted it online. We were stumbling out of Viva Luxe and into the Escalade, our arms wrapped around each other.
I thought Daddy Warbucks told you to stay away
I stared at the screen. My brain wasn’t functioning correctly, which only made things worse. What the hell was I supposed to say to her?
You owe me money. Lots of it
My blood started to boil. My auntie Theresa was bad news. She was responsible for a lot of the shit that went wrong in my life, and she was the reason I’d ended up homeless at sixteen. She wasoneof the reasons, anyway. I didn’t often wish bad things on people, but as far as I was concerned, Auntie Theresa could go die in a hole.
I don’t owe you shit.
That’s bull, and you know it
Daddy Warbucks knows it, too
I’m gonna call him. You are in for it, missy
Don’t forget I know where you are
I threw the phone down, wincing when it smacked against the hardwood floor.
“What’s the matter?” Cole muttered, sounding as though he was still in a deep sleep.
“Nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing, and I knew it. “Go back to sleep. I’m going to go take a shower.” But it wasn’t as though I could wash the stink of my hangover—or my auntie Theresa—away.
Some things took time to get out of your system.
And some stained you for good.