Page 47 of Trailer Trash

“Oh, I shouldn’t,” Frida says, but gingerly settles into the chair River placed next to mine.

“So, how was your wedding on Sunday?” I ask Frida.

“It was beautiful. Matteo and I are so happy. I wish you would’ve been there. I was worried.”

“Everyone worries about me,” I grumble.

River clears his throat, his expression astonished. “I— I didn’t realize you were married.”

“Si. Killian didn’t tell you?” She pets my head like we’re still together. We haven’t dated for years, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m more interested in showing my brother what a psycho he invited to dinner.

Why do my brothers think I can’t want a girl like Harlow? I prefer hanging out with poor people. Nobody in my family wants to believe I don’t belong in a world of fine tablecloths and menus without prices.

The irony is, the penniless girl sitting next to me wants her own kind. A man with a job. A man with ambition. A man who belongs in her shitty trailer.

I unball my fists when a hand slips on my thigh. I look down, catching bright red nails stroking up and down.

Goddamn it.

A small gasp follows. Harlow stares at Frida’s wandering hand. I shake my head and lean close.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” I growl impatiently.

“No, no! I just... She’s married.”

That excuse just angers me more. Harlow’s hiding behind her ethics again. She’s obviously jealous and won’t admit it.

I don’t savor catching her lie like I normally would. This is the night from hell. Two women I’ve fucked at the same table, and the girl I want is hooked on some other guy.

Nothing I do gets her to soften, and—

Alcohol.

It hits like an intervention.

“They have good wine here,” I say to Harlow. I snap my fingers at the waiter and order her a bottle of Pinot Noir. She fights me the whole time. Frida demands she have some, too, giving me an evil glare because I hadn’t included her.

She and I dated for so long that we can say a lot without words. Too bad I stopped caring what she says.

As I look into her big eyes, I make it clear: Fuck off.

Frida doesn’t retreat and glances at the server. “Bring two bottles, please.”

He nods and shuffles off.

“So, River,” I say, “when did you and Nina start dating?”

“What was it, babe? Six months ago?”

Nina nods, her expression pained.

I’ve been living the life of a wanderer. I rarely saw my family. I have an excuse. Nina was with River. She had to know about me. That must be why she didn’t want my number.

But what was she doing around the places I hang out?

“We’re getting married in the fall,” says River. “We just need more cash. I want to give Nina the wedding of her dreams.”

Nina smiles softly. “Yeah, weddings are expensive. My dress alone is ten grand. The venue is fifty.”