Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
Out of all the places to fall in love, I never thought Canada would be in the running.
Paris, Milan, Puerto Rico. Maybe even Scotland or Japan, but never Canada. But this has become the place of my dreams, because it is the place where I found love with the most unlikely of candidates.
I’m already picturing trips back here in the future, all six of us gallivanting to all the places that mean something to us. Seeing other bands play at the same venues we did, eating the best poutine, and getting tattoos even if Rox Tats goes out of business.
It’s a beautiful future to picture, but I know the present is even better. Nothing can take away the shine I feel from being admired and loved the way I deserve by my men. And that’s why I can’t go much longer without telling the rest of them how I feel.
Remi surprised me with his declaration, and I’ve been riding a high ever since. He loves me; this burly, reserved, emotionally intelligent man, with his sweet scent and his calming presence. I’ve never felt so lucky to be in his orbit, so lucky to be the omega meant for him.
My skin is cold from the lotion I’ve slathered on.
Patiently waiting for it to dry is slowly driving me insane, but the Canadian chill has been drying me out.
I also partially think my stress levels are to blame.
The closer I get to the guys, the more worried I am for the inevitable disaster of Cleo finding out.
Now that I’m thinking long term—like bonding and my first heat—I know it’s going to be sooner rather than later, and that definitiveness is terrifying.
A knock sounds on the door to my hotel room and I feel myself cheesing before I can stop it.
I’m hoping to bring Remi right back here after our little brunch date since I’m not stuck in a suite with the girls this time.
I pull my robe off and finally slide on my clothes; nothing flashy or anything that will draw attention, but something that still looks presentable as well as cozy.
But when I open the door, it isn’t Remi standing there waiting for me; it’s the girls, beaming wide with champagne bottles in their grips.
“Josie!” Cleo exclaims loudly, her enthusiasm bright despite the long show we had last night. “We’re going dress shopping!”
My brows shoot to my forehead. “We are?”
“Yes!” she says without missing a beat, her smile beaming so bright that it nearly blinds me.
I look behind her to Nicola and Lark, the former smiling just as vividly while the latter looks like she is joining just for the sake of it. She shrugs and says, “They’ll have mimosas.”
“At the dress shop?”
“Yes!” Cleo says again, and her flushed cheeks make me think that she’s already had a few. “It’s very exclusive, but I told them that Nicola was getting married! So we’re going to try on bridesmaids’ dresses.”
“But she’s not getting married,” I point out.
“Not yet,” Nicola adds on with a hopeful gleam in her eye. “But why not? We’re only in Vegas once.”
“We’re in Quebec,” Lark corrects with a laugh. “We’re literally in Canada.”
“Tomay-toe, tomah-toe.”
Cleo laughs. “This is going to be so much fun.” She turns to me, an expectant look in her eye. “Come on! Come have fun with us.”
I can’t bring myself to say “no,” not when she’s looking at me with such expectance. And even though her happiness might be artificial and curling, it’s still nice to see her so animated and buoyant that I can’t stand the idea of crushing her.
“Okay, let me get my purse.”
I pull out my phone as I turn to the living space, a text already waiting for me in my inbox.
Remi: I was about to go to your door but your friends came out of nowhere!
Josie: Yeah, I’m so sorry. I can’t make it today. They want to go somewhere in the city.
Remi: Oh, cool! Where?
Josie: Emergency dress shop crashing apparently lol
Remi: Okay! Let me know when you get back, maybe we can still do something later.
Josie: will do :)
Remi: I love you
Josie: I love you too
I send the text and any regret I feel washes away. He loves me, he loves me, he loves me. The mantra plays in my mind as I go to get my purse and a hat. Remi isn’t mad at me for canceling; he doesn’t want me to feel guilty.
I sigh. Hopefully, I can get some time in with him later today, but right now, I need to be with my girls.
The dresses are a lot more fancy than I was anticipating. Rather than having fun, I’m nervous that one of us—mainly Cleo or Nicola—will accidentally spill their mimosas all over the shop’s merchandise, which is apparently all couture and not thrift-friendly.
“Be careful with that,” I mutter quietly, grabbing Cleo’s glass seconds before it splashes on the dress she’s wearing.
“Don’t be a sponge.” She laughs, but it grates on my nerves. We might be able to afford to fix these dresses, but I definitely don’t want to when it can be prevented. I look over at Lark, who hasn’t had nearly as much alcohol despite it being the entire reason she came.
“She’s not a sponge,” Lark reprimands our friend as she takes the glass from me. “What’s the end goal here? Are you going to buy a dress?”
“No, probably not,” Cleo says, spinning as she looks at herself in the mirror before she turns to Nicola with a wobble in her step. “I mean, unless you think the wedding will be sooner rather than laterrrr.”
She sings the end of the word, but Nicola’s smile is weak in response. “Probably not. I have no idea when he’ll ask me.”
“You’ve been together for four years,” Cleo grumbles as she takes her flute back from Lark. “And you’ve been deemed the Sid and Nancy of modern rock. You’ll probably get that question a lot more going forward.”
“I guess, but I’ll deal with that when it comes.” Nicola downs the rest of her drink, and I blink at her. She seems sadder than she was when we first got here. Maybe pretending has left a bad taste in her mouth.
“I’d love to see Raven in a wedding dress,” Cleo muses. “I bet it would be black. Like a gothic princess.”
“Alright, alright.” Lark laughs as she crosses her arms. “Maybe we all have had too much.”
“Don’t squash my dreams, Lala.” She pouts. “I bet she’d be beautiful. She’s gorgeous, and so talented.”
“She’s okay,” I say under my breath at the same time Lark says, “She’s decent.”
Cleo feigns a dramatic scoff. “She’s a powerhouse—”
“Of the cell,” I hear Nicola whisper to herself quietly. I hold the snort that I want to let out.
“I’m just saying,” Cleo continues, her hand holding up her glass as she speaks. “Raven can sing wonderfully. I don’t think there’s a note that she can’t hit.”
I roll my eyes on a reflex just as Lark says, “You’re a better singer, though.”
Our friend scoffs. “That is absurd. She can sing circles around me.”
My stomach sours as I remember Raven’s words from a few months ago, the vile she spit at Cleo about being the better singer.
“She’s had opera training,” I point out. “It’s not really fair to compare your voices.”
“How did you know that?” she asks, squinting at me.
I shrug. “It was in some interview. She spoke about being forced into vocal training by her parents the same way I was forced into piano.”
“Huh.” She places her champagne flute down and flattens her hands over her dress, the blue pastel a sparkling contrast to her black hair and eyeliner.
It’s tensely silent for a few minutes as we all sit there and watch Cleo take in her appearance. When the quiet finally feels too deafening, she turns to me and points a finger.
“You don’t like her very much,” she observes.
“No, I don’t,” I admit, the tiny amount of alcohol in my system causing loose lips.
“And what did she ever do to you?”
Where do I start? She’s rude, mean, inconsiderate, selfish, verbally abusive. She gave you drugs and tried to give Florence drugs, and oh yeah, she’s an even bigger poison than the substances she takes.
I see the desire to fight in her eyes and slump my shoulders. “Nothing, I guess.”
Lark scoots a little bit closer to me when she sees the look on Cleo’s face. “Maybe we should leave and get some food,” she suggests.
“No, I think we should get to the bottom of this.”
“I really don’t want to,” I say. “I’ve never liked Raven. She is mean, and you know I don’t handle mean people very well. Not to mention all the shit I heard her say to you—”
She interrupts. “I told you everything was fine.”
“What did she say to you?” Lark questions, but Cleo’s lips are pursed shut. She turns to me and I grit my teeth.
“She was ragging on her, accusing her of cheating and telling her that she’s not trustworthy. Then she made her feel guilty for having emotions and for being famous, and then she directly told Cleo that she was a better singer than her.”
“What?” Lark stands up as she looks between us.
“Josie is blowing it all out of proportion,” she accuses. “You know how dramatic she can be, Lark. Seriously, don’t fucking listen to it.”
“You let her step all over you that night,” I repeat. “That’s why I don’t like her. She has done everything she can to dim you since the moment you two met, and you keep letting her. She doesn’t even try to hide how despicable she is anymore. Her true colors are right on the canvas.”
Cleo’s face reddens, both embarrassment and fury appearing. “I can’t believe you right now.”
“And I can’t believe you are arguing with me over this. I am not the one you should be angry at.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t be? Of course I’m angry because my best friend won’t find it in her heart to accept my girlfriend—”
“She isn’t your girlfriend!” I yell, reaching my breaking point.
“She even said so on the phone that she doesn’t want to be your girlfriend!
I mean, come on, Cleo! You used to be the strongest person I’ve ever known, stronger than any of us combined, but you are letting her treat you like garbage. What the fuck is going on with you?”
I move around her so I can leave, but her hand comes to my wrist and yanks. Lark is there before it can escalate, tugging Cleo’s grip off me and physically pushing between us.