22. Cherry Lips
Cherry Lips
I enter the nightclub, relieved when I confirm there are no strippers in sight.
Just a dark, pulsing room, tables pushed to the edges, and a dance floor packed with bodies swaying to the deep bass of some song I don’t recognize.
The air is thick—sweat, perfume, and alcohol blending into an intoxicating haze.
It’s been a decade since I stepped foot in a place like this, and judging by the fresh faces around me, I probably should have stayed away. But Logan’s wedding is just over a week away, and on this fateful Friday, everyone’s been forced out of the comfort of their homes and dragged here.
Some of us had much better plans. Like accepting a spunky red-head’s invitation to go see her show, then spend the night at my place. Charlotte’s been gone for a shoot for the last two days, and I miss her more than I thought possible. More than I find bearable.
She’s texted a couple of times, but it’s not enough. Not after the last time I saw her, when I returned the panties she used to jerk me off.
Kyle, the ringleader in this situation, waves me over from a table to my right, his expression already loose with alcohol. Next to him, Logan glares at his beer like it personally offended him, while Shane sits stiffly, clearly wishing he were anywhere else.
This should be interesting.
“Hey,” I say, sliding into the seat next to Shane. Kyle immediately grabs the pitcher and fills my glass, shoving it toward me like he’s on a mission. “How’s it going?”
He grimaces. “No one is nearly drunk enough.”
I take a sip, the bitter taste of the beer washing off a little of my nerves.
Logan and I haven’t talked since our fight last Sunday, so I’m not sure what to expect.
But as he gives me a curt nod, I realize that maybe I should expect nothing, because things will continue to be exactly like they have been.
Kyle is shouting something about his culture of pumpkins over the thumping music, and Shane and Logan lean in, intrigued.
Not exactly what I pictured for the night, not that I’m complaining.
“For the record,” someone says behind me, right before a firm slap lands on the back of my head. “My wife doesn’t have a bad side.”
I wince and turn. “Ian?” I say, rubbing the spot that stings. “ What? I didn’t know you were coming.”
He smirks. “Yeah, well. I figured Logan would be even more displeased with the surprise.”
I glance at Logan, who just lifts his glass and takes a long-suffering sip. Fair enough.
I pat his shoulder. “How’s Amelie?”
Ian brings a hand to his chest. “Yes, I am great. Thank you for asking.” Then his grin widens. “Amelie’s kicking ass. They already asked her to come back for the next four seasons. Of course, you’d know all of this if you bothered to answer her messages.”
Oh, so she told him about that, huh?
“I, uh . . . I’ve been really busy, and?—”
“Don’t.” He motions behind me. “You can tell her yourself.”
My head snaps up. “Wait, what? She’s here too?”
“She’s at Prim’s bachelorette. Right there.” As I turn to the direction he’s pointing to, he adds, “We’re heading back in the morning.”
There she is—next to Primrose, Heaven, and a few women I’ve never seen before.
Bright, colorful drinks in their hands, sequins catching the dim lights.
They look like they belong here. Like they’re having the right kind of fun for a place like this.
No mention of pumpkins in that conversation, I’m sure.
“Wait,” I say. “Both parties are here?”
Ian shrugs. “Kyle says it was the only way to convince Logan to come.”
Yeah, that checks out.
“Well, I’ll go—” I begin, but Ian’s hand clamps around my arm before I can rise from my stool.
“Not so fast, cowboy.” His grip is firm, almost amused. “No boys allowed.”
Oh. I sink back into my seat, mildly annoyed. I’d never really thought about it before Kyle said it, but Amelie has become my best friend. After spending so much time together over the last year, not seeing her in weeks—not even talking, though that’s my own fault—has made me miss her.
“I figured we could talk instead.” I study Ian, who’s watching me with a rare seriousness. “If you don’t mind.”
I shift in my chair, bracing for his words. I have a feeling I know where this is going.
He’s going to ask about me and Amelie. Probably wants reassurance that I’m not out to get his wife or something. It’s to be expected, I guess, since these guys all know about Josie.
“What’s up?” I ask, forcing casualness into my tone.
“I wanted to thank you.”
I blink. “For what?”
“For your friendship with Amelie, of course.”
“Oh. Well, I’m the one who’s grateful.”
He glances past me, toward his wife. “I think it was cathartic for her—passing her knowledge on to someone else the way her dad did with her. You know there were a lot of unresolved issues between them when he died, and she’s been struggling to face the fact that she won’t get the chance to solve them. ”
“She’s been going through a lot.”
“And you made it better.”
I look down at my glass, running my finger along the condensation. “I thought...I thought you’d warn me that—you know.”
He cocks his head. “What? That I’d be jealous of how close you two got?”
“Maybe, yeah.”
Ian laughs, loud and unapologetic. “Dude. I mess with you, but...I’m just fucking around. I hope you know that.”
“It’s not because of you,” I cut in quickly. “It’s...”
“Oh. Oh , your—” He gestures vaguely at Logan before tucking his hand away. “Right, right. Well, look, my wife was engaged to another man when I met her. I’m hardly going to judge you.” He snorts. “Of course, her fiancé wasn’t my brother .”
“Still not judging?”
He beams. “Not even a little.”
I hold his gaze for a beat. “As long as you know that Amelie and I...”
“You’re like a brother to her.”
“She’s like a sister to me.”
Ian squeezes my shoulder. “And I want her to live a life surrounded by amazing people who love her, so...we’re cool. Really.”
I nod, raising my glass slightly. I didn’t even know how much I needed to hear this, but now that I have, I feel ten pounds lighter. “Thanks, man.”
“Unless you hurt her, that is.” He takes a sip of beer, then winks. “Then we’re not cool.”
“Okay, uh . . . the bouncer,” Logan says with a smirk.
“Not the bouncer!” Kyle cries.
The whole group erupts into laughter as Logan points toward the entrance, where the large, angry-looking man is standing.
Kyle hesitates, then saunters toward the big guy. Though the music is too loud for any of us to hear a word, we wait.
“Ten dollars says he smacks him,” I wager.
Shane tsks. “Are you kidding? Twenty that he gives him his number.”
We all watch, breath held, as the bouncer smirks and actually takes Kyle’s phone, tapping something on the screen. Kyle returns to the table, triumphant, waving his phone like a trophy.
“ Oooh! ” I slap a twenty-dollar bill in Shane’s hand, and he passes it to the waitress as he orders another round of shots. There’s been a lot of those.
Kyle plops back into his seat, shooting back his drink. “Well, there you go. He said I should give him a call if I ever feel like switching sides. Whose turn is it?”
“I believe it’s mine,” Ian says, but before he can make a move, Amelie plops onto his lap, and Primrose does the same with Logan. Heaven follows suit, nestling onto Shane’s thighs.
“You guys look like you’re having fun,” Primrose teases, her tone light. She doesn’t sound drunk at all, probably because she’s still breastfeeding.
“ Boo! ” Kyle half-heartedly shoves her shoulder. “I agreed to this embarrassing bachelorette-slash-bachelor party, but the deal was everyone would stick to their own guests.”
“Sorry, I wanted to kiss my fiancé.”
I turn to Amelie, her eyes dancing with warmth, and just like that, I realize she missed me as much as I missed her. “You’re here.”
“I am.”
“Couldn’t stay away from your kitchen, could you?”
She shrugs. “Well, I’m happy to see it, that’s for sure.”
“I hear you’re also in a rush to leave.”
“Yeah.” She frowns for a moment, then she points at me, eyes twinkling.
“But I’ll be back next week—just on Thursday.
Barbara needs to be home and since I have the day off, I’ll work the dinner service at the restaurant.
But before that, you and me, my place. I have to show you this unbelievable recipe. You’re going to love it.”
“Hell yes.” I meet Ian’s gaze, and there’s no tension. “Can’t wait.”
“Seriously, you’re a bunch of losers,” Kyle complains, pouting as he crosses his arms. “We were playing a game.”
Primrose kisses the tip of Logan’s nose. “Then keep playing!”
“ Ugh . Fine. Ignore the girls. Whose turn was it?”
Ian starts to say something about skipping his turn, but I hardly hear him as I grab a shot from the table and down it. When I look up, all eyes are on me.
“What?”
“It’s your turn.”
Oh. “All right.” After making Logan dance on a raised platform in the middle of the dance floor and forcing Kyle to ask for the bouncer’s number, I know I’m in for it.
“Maybe we should set him up with someone,” Heaven suggests.
“Excuse me, but you’re not part of the game,” I playfully scold. “The guys have to decide.”
Shane raises his hand. “I vote for the setting up thing.”
The table nods, their faces lit with amusement.
Great. “Whatever. Who am I being set up with?”
“Who looks good?” Amelie asks.
I scan the room, my brain clouded by the mix of vodka, rum, and beer. I’m not even looking for someone attractive—just someone to get this over with. Until red catches my eye.
Is that...it can’t be. It cannot be her. I didn’t tell her I’d be here—I didn’t know the name of the place until I texted Kyle for the address two hours ago. But as I take in the backless, deep emerald dress hugging curves I know too well, my heartbeat skips. It looks like her.
“Oooh. Winner winner, chicken dinner,” Ian calls from beside me.
“ Another redhead? You have a problem,” Kyle chimes in, immediately looking away when I glare.