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“Whereas I’m well aware of how you two are able to stand each other,” I say. “You’re so alike.”
Cheryl clenches and unclenches her fists and then somehow manages to sit straighter. “Whatever. So you’re going to go then?”
The audacity of this bitch. I have to laugh. “Are you crazy?” I say.
“No I?—”
“Do you think you can just order me to leave and I will?”
“Stop interrupting me!” The words burst out in a piercing shriek that attracts the attention of everyone in the café. Cheryl lifts a hand to block her face and then says low and through gritted teeth, “Look. Just get out of here. Nobody wants you around. You’re embarrassing yourself. We’re all laughing at you.”
Her words threaten to tear at my heart. Not too long ago, they would have been enough to bring tears streaming down my face.
But then I picture Mickey. Mickey would tear this chick a new asshole if she were here. She’d have my back.
And I think about Nick. He wants me around. He doesn’t laugh at me or call me names. He apologizes when he makes mistakes. When the hell did I start putting more stock in the words of people I hate than the ones I care about?
I push my hair out of my face carefully and say, simply, “Well I don’t want you around. So maybe you should be the one who leaves.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
I shrug. “And I’m not going either.”
Cheryl’s face screws up in frustration. She leans forward suddenly. “Look this is a very important trip for Brent and me,” she hisses. “And you’re completely harshing the vibe.”
“I thought Kara was scared of me?” I say. “Or did you really mean that your new friends maybe don’t think it’s that cool that you and Brent ditched me at the altar? Is that a little embarrassing for you, Cheryl?”
Cheryl flushes and stands up. “It’s only embarrassing for you,” she says. “You’re the one that got left.”
I stare coolly up at her. “Well I wish you’d leave again. I was having a quiet morning.”
“Just wait until tonight,” she says. “You could hide on the plane but I know you, Evie. You’re not fun. You’re not a good time at all. And when you show up wearing another stupid sweatsuit know that all the whispering you’re hearing is about you.”
She whirls on her heel and stalks away, completely abandoning her latte.
The other customers glance at me curiously. I look away, back out the window, but I can’t go back to the nervous calm I’d felt just ten minutes ago.
It’s been replaced. Replaced by fury. And suddenly Mickey’s words make a whole lot of sense.
And I know exactly what I want.
I shoot the rest of my espresso like a shot of vodka and head upstairs.
I fling the hotel room door open with the force of a runaway train. Nick is standing by the mirror, adjusting his tie, and he whips around, ready for anything, before realizing it’s just me.
“Jesus, what’s going on with you?” he asks.
In answer I plunge across the floor, take his face in my hands and kiss him.
He jerks in surprise but in an instant he’s just as hungry as he was last night. His tongue darts into my mouth and his arms wrap around me, snaring me against him. He’s so strong. It’s difficult to tell under those suits but pressed up against him I can feel thick, straining muscles. I work my hands against the hardness of his body, then grab his tie in my fist, my lips mashing to his.
This time it’s Nick who pulls away first, though his reluctance is obvious.
“Okay what the hell happened?” he asks. His tie is fucked up, his hair mussed. Those bewitching eyes travel up my body, as if he’s only half-hearing the question he himself asked.
“Cheryl,” I say.
His brow furrows and he comes back down to Earth. “What?” he asks.
