“Congrats on the new apartment, neighbor. Dinner?” I read it aloud and lift my gaze to hers, but her eyes are stuck on the other side of the card.
“Lawrence?” She gasps and I flip it over to see his name with his cell phone number. “Oh my God, you fucked him!” Her eyes flash surprise and then anger. “Wait. You got so shitty with me over Cap—”
“Because he’s married—”
“He’s getting divorced!”
“I didn’t know that and I didn’t want you to be his side dish. I know how these guys are.” It’s weak and all I have.
She lifts the champagne flute. “Yes, clearly they’re all womanizing assholes who just want to have sex and never call again. Or do you think you’re the only one who could possibly land a good one?”
“No, what? I didn’t want to land anyone! I don’t want to—” I grab the glass from her and hug her. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have judged. You were right. Cap is a nice guy. I shouldn’t have generalized them all that way. It was mean.” My fingers bite in and I start to cry. I’m not sure why.
I think it’s all too much.
I’ve sold my soul, broken my promise never to sleep with pucks, ghosted my boyfriend.
The entire week has me at my max capacity for crazy.
And for some reason the flutes and champagne from Lawrence are the straw that break the camel’s back.
But thankfully I’m not alone.
20 Unpacking for dummies
Lori
Needing to distract myself from the fact she hasn’t called or texted or even told me to go fuck myself in the four hours since she got home, I take a run on the treadmill and stare out at the city. I spend half the run convincing myself that seeing her is a bad idea. But the other half, my dick makes all the decisions, and I’m confident that nothing bad can come from more time spent devouring Jenny. We’re clearly compatible and attracted to each other. And she’s cool. And not clingy. If anything, she’s the opposite which is killing me.
Simon licks himself peacefully on the windowsill in the gym, ignoring me but staying in the same room so I know he isn’t happy that I vanished for the wedding right after being away for hockey.
“Lori?” Brady shouts from the hallway.
“Yeah?” I stop the treadmill and grab my towel, walking out of the double-room gym on the far side of my apartment. We meet in the hallway by the elevator. “Hey,” I huff and wipe my face.
“Tell me that is some sex sweat and not you running off your needs,” he says with a laugh.
“I would look a lot happier if I was having sex, even if you interrupted,” I mutter and walk to the terrace off the bar to cool off. The view of the park is perfect from here on the southern side of the building. “Why aren’t you at home?”
“Nat just wants to game. She ordered a pizza and is eating it alone, vegging out.” He rolls his eyes. “I think she might actually need to decompress from so much Sami time.” He laughs.
“She was getting a bit heavy-handed there,” I say as Bev strolls out of the house onto the balcony, interrupting us.
“Well, do we have a game plan?” she asks.
“How are you here?” Why are they both here?
“I sent Gran and Gramps home with Eddie and everyone else and decided to come help you. I feel bad that you accidentally fell for the one-night stand. But in my defense, I was telling the truth when I said I didn’t know Jenny was so awesome. Stan gushed about her, but I assumed he was being polite. I mean, how many PR reps have you met like her? None.”
“Okay, while she is awesome and I won’t lie, I can’t stop thinking about her, I didn’t fall for her.” I scoff. “I don’t feel done yet.”
“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, Lori, but I was there. I saw you. And at the time, I thought you’d chase after her golf cart and have some drunken sex.” She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, what is your plan? A girl like her comes along once in a lifetime, you need a solid idea.”
“I googled what to send girls for a housewarming gift. It said to send her champagne and glasses. So I did, with a little note saying welcome to her new place and asked her for dinner.” I give Bev an annoyed look.
“What’s happening right now?” Brady sounds lost.
Bev ignores his question. “You sent champagne and asked her out for dinner the week—no the day—she moved? Why wouldn’t you go for bringing pizza to her house, rich boy? She’s probably got no food and a house filled with boxes, ya dumbass. What did Stan say?” Bev mocking me should feel like old hat but it still stings.
“Just what you said, that she moved into her new apartment today. I thought dinner might be nice and would lead to more sex.”
“Really?” Bev tilts her head. “Who’s gonna unpack her house while she wines and dines with your dumb ass at one of those annoyingly trendy restaurants you rich people take poor people to so you can pretend to be relatable? You think Stan’s over there unpacking her boxes? He sounded a hundred years old over the phone.”
“Who the fuck is Stan and why didn’t I know you two were working on a plan to win Jenny over for real?” Brady folds his arms. “And what am I, chopped liver? You go to this thing for advice over me?” He points his thumb at Bev.
“Well, he wasn’t looking for advice on how to ruin her dress in an alley and never call her again,” Bev
