The Exception

Chapter 1

Sutton

“Please tell me you didn’t bring that hideous brown dress to wear to the wedding.”

No hello, no how are you—just straight to the point when I answered. It was one of the things I loved about Miles Hartley, except when his point was a critique of me.

I took a step forward in line. “It’s a beautiful dress.”

“It is. You should wear it to bingo when you go down to visit your grandmother in Florida.”

I rolled my eyes, but chuckled. “I hate you.”

“No, you love me. You hate when I’m right.

Which is often, when it comes to your life.

And because you love me so much, I’m currently in your room digging through boxes looking for the red dress you should’ve brought.

I’ll bring it in my bag tomorrow. Also, why did you answer the phone?

I thought I was going to leave you a message. Shouldn’t you be in the air by now?”

“Hang on a second.” I took another step and handed the gate agent my boarding pass.

She scanned it. “Have a good flight.”

“Thank you.” Once I entered the jet bridge, I lifted my phone and returned my attention to Miles on FaceTime. “Weren’t you just wearing blue glasses a minute ago?”

He shrugged. “These match your panties.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. My best friend had a collection of more than a hundred pairs of glasses, each more colorful than the last. He had a penchant for matching them to his outfits, but pairing them with my panties was a new one.

“I thought your flight took off at eight?” he said.

“It’s delayed an hour. And you better pack everything back up and seal the boxes when you’re done rummaging through my life. The moving company is coming tomorrow morning to bring me those.”

“Ooh. When did you get this red mesh bra? Does it have matching panties?”

“Can you please stop going through my underwear?”

“Seriously, this thing is hot as fuck. It might even make my gay ass a little hard if you put it on.”

“Wonderful. I can finally achieve my life’s goal.”

“If there aren’t matching panties, I’m going shopping and finding you some. Because this is what you’re wearing under the red dress at the wedding.”

“I’m not wearing the red dress.”

“Then how are you going to bang the best man?”

“I am not banging Brendan’s brother.”

Though I was definitely overdue for a good banging. Way, way overdue. And I hadn’t mentioned to Miles that I planned to remedy that problem sooner rather than later.

“Why not? His underbite doesn’t make him look as much like a bulldog as it did before the braces.”

I boarded the plane and found my row. “I have to go. I just got to my seat, and I need to put my luggage in the overhead bin and get situated.”

“All right. But promise me one thing.”

I sighed. “What?”

“You won’t have a couple of glasses of wine and respond to the jackrabbit’s text. You get emotional when you drink.”

“I am definitely not responding to Brendan.” I was stopped in the aisle with my luggage, and the woman behind me didn’t look happy. “Gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After I hung up and stowed my bags, I settled into my seat.

The flight from LA to New York was five and a half hours.

I’d been annoyed when my mother had called the airline pretending to be me and upgraded my ticket to first class, but the big, comfy seat that reclined to a bed now made this section seem more and more like a little slice of heaven.

Especially when the flight attendant walked over carrying a tray.

“Would you like orange juice or champagne before we take off?”

“Oooh. I love mimosas. I’ll take both.”

She nodded. “Good choice.”

It had been a year since I’d flown home to New York, and I’d forgotten how big these planes were. Boarding went on for a full half hour. So when the flight attendant returned with the bottle of champagne and offered a refill, I happily nodded.

“Yes, please. It’ll help take the edge off.”

She smiled. “Nervous flier?”

“No. But I’m going home for a wedding I’m not looking forward to.”

“Is there someone you don’t want to see attending?”

I nodded. “The groom. He’s my ex.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Yuck. You must be a bigger person than me. Not sure I’d go to my ex’s wedding, if I was invited.”

“I don’t have too much of a choice. He’s marrying my stepsister.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh my.”

I sighed. “Tell me about it.”

She refilled my champagne flute to the brim and set the half-full bottle on my tray table. “It’s going to be a bit before we get to pull away from the gate. The runway is backed up since we missed our time slot. I’ll just leave this here. My name is Aileen. Buzz if you need anything else.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

She leaned down to me. “My ex-boyfriend is a pilot. I got stuck on a flight with him last month, and I accidentally spilled the soda he ordered on his shirt when I was bringing him his dinner. It didn’t make it any less awkward, but it made me happy to look at the stain every time I had to see him after that.

Maybe you should have a little accident at the wedding. ”

“Who should I bump into, the bride or the groom?”

She smiled. “Both. And maybe order a Bloody Mary instead of a soda before you do.”

“I might just do that.”

We wound up sitting at the gate for another forty-five minutes, during which time I polished off my second glass of champagne and the remainder of what was left in the bottle.

I was feeling no pain by the time we started to taxi toward the runway.

Unfortunately, I was also feeling—damn Miles for always being right—emotional.

So after I switched my cell to airplane mode, I pulled up Brendan’s text.

It had come in a week ago, and I’d read it at least twenty times since then.

Brendan: Hey. Could we get together to talk when you get to town? Your mom said you’re coming in Thursday. Maybe we could meet for a drink at Buvette?

A few minutes later, a second text had come in.

Brendan: I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this conversation to Colette.

The latter had made my blood boil. I’d kicked around taking a screenshot of the text and sending it directly to my stepsister, but I wasn’t up for the drama that would inevitably ensue.

I also didn’t want Colette to think I was jealous or petty.

Even though petty was exactly what you should be when your boyfriend of three years marries your freaking stepsister.

I shook my head and swiped the text closed, deciding to watch a movie to keep me distracted.

At some point I must’ve dozed off, because when I woke up, the movie was no longer playing and there was only a little over an hour left in the flight.

My new friend, Aileen, appeared at my side.

She smiled. “Good nap?”

“Definitely. Exactly what I needed.”

“Glad to hear it. I’m about to wheel around the ice cream cart, so you woke up at the perfect time. The only thing better than champagne and a nap is having a hot fudge sundae when you wake up. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Ice cream sounds great. And just some water, please.”

While I waited for the flight attendant to come back, I dug out my phone and connected to the free Wi-Fi so I could check email. As soon as the three little bars illuminated, a text popped up in preview.

Miles: Who’s better than me?

There was a paperclip at the bottom corner of the message, so I clicked to see the attachment. A photo of my best friend appeared on the screen—he was beaming, holding a pair of red mesh underwear that seemed to match my bra perfectly. I snorted. Only Miles.

Maybe he was right. Maybe I should’ve brought the red dress—though not to lure Brendan’s little brother.

What I needed was a stranger, a quick fling with someone who was good in bed.

Great in bed, even. My mind leaned into the idea.

No-strings-attached, anonymous sex. No names, no numbers—hell, no faces would work at this point.

It could be hot if he wore a mask. I just needed to have sex with six inches that didn’t require batteries.

Tonight, I was planning to go to a bar and not come home alone.

I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t shared that tidbit with Miles.

He’d been my best friend since elementary school and knew everything else about my life.

Aileen wheeled over the ice cream cart, interrupting my thoughts.

I ordered vanilla with peanut butter sauce and chocolate chips, and it was freaking delicious.

Devouring it, I decided maybe I shouldn’t object so much in the future when my mother wanted to throw her husband’s money around and spoil me.

There wasn’t enough time left on the flight for a second movie, so I opened the internet browser.

Spooning the delicious sundae into my mouth, I checked my email, did the daily Wordle, and finally googled best bar in Manhattan to meet a man for a one-night stand.

I was pretty surprised how many hits came back, and not just your typical Reddit chats either.

There were articles in legit magazines and entire websites dedicated to the subject.

Yelp had a Top 10 Best Hookup Bars in NYC list. Too bad they didn’t have Yelp ratings for the men who frequented them.

I clicked into one website that had a map of all the different neighborhoods of Manhattan, and each of those had a clickable list of bars.

I double tapped into Gramercy Park and scanned the six places listed.

Bullets underneath outlined the reasons each place was good to meet someone.

While I was reading the write-up of the last bar, an animated ad popped up showing a bird inside a cage.

The door opened, and a bright red finch fluttered its wings and flew out.

It was cute and colorful. Underneath read: NY Loves DARE—dating freedom.