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“You’rethe ex-boyfriend.”
Stunned, the only thing he could do was nod. Had Vee spoken to Max about him, aboutthem?
“Man, you messed her up.”
“I know,” he replied solemnly. “That’s why I’m here—to make it up to her.”
“And how do you plan on doing that?”
Max’s question caught Beau off guard. Bristling, he said, “I don’t see how that’s any of your—”
“Actually, it is my business,” Max interrupted. “You see, Vee is one of my very good friends and I’d hate to see her get hurt again.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” he hissed. Sensing the shift in atmosphere, he took a deep breath, uncurled his clenched fists and added, “I love her. I want to make it work.”
Max studied his face for a long minute. He must’ve seen his sincerity because he said, “Give me your phone.”
Without question, Beau pulled it from his pocket, unlocked it, and
handed it to the other guy. As Max tapped on the screen, he said, “If she knows I’m doing this, she’ll probably kill me, so don’t fuck up your chance or you’ll have to face me.” Giving the device back to him, Beau looked at the screen. Google Maps was up, an address with directions already plugged in.
“Thank you,” Beau breathed. “Thank you.”
With a curt nod, Max replied, “If you hurt her again, I will kill you myself.”
Retreating from the club, Beau took off running, following the blue line on the screen. Vee’s apartment wasn’t far from the club at all, which was great because it was fucking roasting in the late afternoon sun. Arriving at the modern building, he spotted the intercom near the door. He was about to push her number when a woman exited the building. Catching the door, he slipped inside, finding his way to her floor.
* * *
Evangeline lookedat her phone lying on the coffee table in front of her, refusing to acknowledge its very existence... except, now that she'd looked at it, she had to know whether Beau had called yet. She’d told him her number hadn’t changed, so if he wanted to reach out, he could.
It had been over twenty-four hours since she'd seen him last, and the memories he had dredged up lingered on her periphery. Leaning forward, she snatched the phone from the table and tapped the center button, lighting up the screen.
No calls.
No texts.
Beau was a ghost.
He'dghostedher,again, and she'd been stupid enough to believe his lies. Although why she believed him, she didn't know. Call it temporary insanity.
Dropping the phone, she swung up out of her seat and stalked into the kitchen, collecting a glass and the bottle of bourbon from the cupboard. How could she have fallen for his whispered lies, his sweet untruths. It was as if she were a stupid college student again, tripping all over herself because a boy looked her way. Slumping down onto the couch, she twisted off the top of the bottle and looked at the glass.
"Fuck it," she muttered, drinking straight from the bottle. The liquor burned on the way down, making her cough. "Fucking men."
Her phonepingedthen, and she lurched for it much too quickly. It was a text from Natasha.
Dinner tonight?
Not hungry, she replied.I'd settle for a drink though.
The three little dots jumped at the bottom of the screen for a moment before her reply came through.I'll be there in ten.
With a solid plan in place, Evangeline changed and made sure she looked presentable. Just as she finished applying some mascara to her lashes, her doorbell buzzed. Thank fuck Natasha was early. She must have sensed her frustration through the phone.
She pulled open the door and froze.
"Beau?" she asked. “How do you know where I live?”
