Prologue
Remi
If there were a headline to this ill-advised evening, it would be something like:Single Mom Forced into Wild Night by BFF, Still Plans to Be Home and in Bed by 10:30 p.m.And really, the wildest part of the entire thing was the belief in myself that I could stay awake that late.
Okay, no, that wasn’t wild. It was everything else about this evening that put me squarely in the What Friggin’ Universe Am I Living In category. But that was the product of an impetuous best friend and a sort-of breakup with a sort-of boyfriend.
Starting my day with laundry, a million unread texts, and copious amounts of both coffee and dry shampoo to keep me functioning was completely normal. Ending my day in the dark corridor of some overpriced bar, wearing a shirt showing entirely too much boob, was not.
“I don’t know if I can wear this.”
Was it too late to protest the clothing choices? Yes. But logic had fled in the wake of exposed cleavage.
Vanessa rolled her eyes, yanking down on my arms when I tried to cover myself. “You are, because you look hot and if I were into women, I’d bang you seven ways till Sunday.” She stepped back, giving an appraising look. “Maybe eight. You could make someone see God with those tits.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly.
Ness leaned forward, slicking a fresh coat of magenta lipstick over her lips. It was a darker shade than her hair, and the effect, I’ll admit, was pretty impressive. “Come on, I told Christian we’d be here thirty minutes ago.”
The throb of the music was obscene. We weren’t even in the main room and my bones pulsed in time with the beat. God, I’d be deaf by the time I got home. And if Ness was distracted enough by the guy who’d invited her, that would hopefully be very soon.
“Why did I say yes to this again?”
Vanessa ran her pointer finger under her eye, even though the thick black eyeliner was immaculate. “Because you are in a multiyear slump, which I thought would be broken by what’s-his-name—” I gave her a sharp look, and she held up her hands. “I know, we’re not talking about that train wreck.”
“Just because he didn’t break the slump doesn’t mean I need ...” I fumbled for words, eventually settling on a vague gesture toward my chest. “God, I must be more buzzed than I thought for agreeing to this.”
She patted me consolingly on the shoulder. “It was only two drinks, sweet pea.”
“Two drinks with a heavy pour,” I pointed out. “I have zero tolerance, Ness.”
“I know.” She smiled. “You have not had a night of harmless debauchery in a decade of this single-mom gig, and this morning you said you were annoyed that the most exciting part of your life was the thirty minutes at the end of the day where you read the books I force on you. I find that unacceptable.”
I rubbed my temples. “Yeah, I did say that, didn’t I?”
“More than once.”
“It’s your fault,” I accused. “You gave me that book.”
“You’d think I’d be out looking for a bunch of hot brothers living on a mountain in Colorado somewhere, because”—she shivered—“I can get on board.”
“You got invited to this party by a musician, Ness. I think you’re doing just fine.”
She smiled a devious smile. “True. And just think, if I hadn’t gone backstage, we wouldn’t be here right now.”
I shifted uncomfortably, tugging on the straps of the black sparkly top that was draped over my upper body.
“Stop that,” she admonished.
“No. If I walk into that room with nipple showing, I’d never forgive you.”
“Yes, you would.”
“I know,” I sighed. “It’s too hard to find best friends in your late twenties.”
“For you,” she pointed out. “Because you don’t go anywhere or do anything. Hence the sexy shirt and the sexy bar.” She wrapped her hands around my shoulders and turned me in the direction of the pulsing lights and too-loud music. “And hopefully, a sexy guy who will appreciate you in all yourMilfglory.”
“I hate you.” I swatted her hands away. “I’m not sleeping with anyone tonight. There is zero chance that anyone here will fit the list.”