Midnight Heat (Firework Girls #2) (7 page)

“It was a night of sex and it was great but now it’s over and I want to go to bed. I haven’t slept a wink.”

I got to my door and glanced back over my shoulder to see if Ashley was ready to let things lie. She was grinning again. “Wait until Sam hears about this.”

“Don’t,” I said strongly, before I could stop myself.

I turned and Ashley was still grinning, but giving me a puzzled expression. “Why not?”

“Look, I—” I sighed. God, I was just so tired. “Thank you for getting me through my Not Wedding night,” I said. “You too, Bella. But can we please, please not talk about it again? I just want to move on, okay?”

“Okay,” Isabella said. “I understand.”

Ashley nodded but I avoided her eyes. It felt like she was still scrutinizing me.

“Okay,” she said. “Well, since I know you’re okay, I’m going to head back.”

“Sorry for not answering my phone.”

“It’s okay,” she said giving me a hug. “I’ll text you when I get there.”

I pulled it together enough to smile before she left. I said goodbye to both her and Isabella and then she was gone and that was it.

I was standing alone in the middle of my apartment with the smell of Grayson on my skin and the memory of him all around me.

I wondered what he was doing in that moment. I wondered how he reacted when he came out of the shower to find me gone. This is something I’ve wondered many, many times in the months since.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and checked for a text from him before remembering he didn’t have my number and I didn’t have his. Of course there were no messages from him, only Ashley’s increasingly frantic texts that morning and a few from Isabella begging me to text Ashley before she called the police.

I dropped my phone on the couch and didn’t bother plugging it in to charge even though the battery was almost dead. I walked back to my bedroom. I wondered if Grayson was eating French toast anyway. Without me.

Just like he’d go on with the rest of his life. Without me.

It’s for the best,
I thought, and collapsed on my bed fully dressed. I didn’t allow myself to cry.

In fact, I have never once allowed myself to cry for Grayson Piers.

As I’ve said, I had to be strong.

The waiter has cleared away our platters, but we’re in no hurry to leave. The girls and I are chatting happily when I get a text from my brother.

Bobby:
Almost there.

Me:
Okay. We’re in the Sandbar finishing up appetizers and cocktails. You’re welcome to join us if you like.

I don’t get an answer back and take to checking the open patio doors that lead toward the lobby.

A minute later someone I know does walk through the doors. But it isn’t Bobby.

Walking smoothly onto the patio, his eyes sweep the area like he’s looking for someone. His eyes land for a moment on Sam. There’s a brief flicker of recognition, but then he sees me and instantly stops short.

Grayson.

I don’t think my heart is beating anymore. I know I’m not breathing. I’m confronted with such a confusing array of emotions I feel physically slapped.

I can’t move at all. He looks as shocked as I feel. There’s a sudden sharpness in his eyes. Anger. And it’s directed right at me.
Oh god.

There’s this moment when I’m torn between wanting to run away in horror after what I did to him, and wanting to launch myself into his arms and beg him to forgive me.

This is what happens in the next moment.

Sam glances toward the door and says, “Oh, there he is!”

It happens in slow motion and is as confusing and disorienting as a dream. Sam hops out of her chair. His eyes go to her and his expression changes. He looks like he’s still trying to recover from his shock, but he does a fair job of it. Better than me. I’m watching it all unfold with my mouth hanging open. He’s smiling. At Sam. I don’t understand why until she goes up to him and puts her arms around him and kisses him right on the lips.

That’s when my heart stops again and I look away. I can’t breathe. My heart hurts. It really hurts and I don’t think it’s beating.

Oh god, can a person die from shock?

She leads him back to our table and I hitch my mouth into a smile, trying to look normal. Do I look normal?

“Girls, this is Grayson,” Sam says. “Grayson these are my girlfriends, Ashley, Chloe—” his eyes flit to mine and I try to look normal, am I still smiling?—“and the lovely bride, Isabella.”

Then I remember. He’s met them before. Everyone but Sam. He and Mr. Greek God came right up to our table there in the Perched Owl.

The girls apparently don’t remember because they say some variation of the whole “nice to meet you” routine.

“Where’s your stuff?” Sam asks him.

His eyes flick away from mine and he looks at her. My Grayson is looking at My Sam and her arm is still around his waist. I can’t feel my body.

“I left my suitcase in the car,” he says. “I figured I’d find out where our room is first.”

Our room??

Oh my holy fucking god, if you have any mercy, strike me down right now.

“I’ll take you,” she says, leading him away. She glances back over her shoulders and gives us a wink.

I watch them go. He doesn’t turn back. They just disappear, on their way to get his suitcase and take it to their room where Sam’s going to do god knows what to him.

I take a sip of my water with trembling hands. I really can’t breathe.

“He’s cute,” Isabella says.

“He looks kind of familiar,” Ashley says.

I look at her in alarm.

She catches my expression and gives me a look of concern.

Oh, did I forget to keep the fake smile plastered on my face?

I pull my lips into a smile but it feels funny. Am I smiling?

“You okay?” she asks.

I stand and give a fake laugh. I even bat my hand at her like an idiot and say, “Of course, of course. Yes, I’m fine I just have to... go to my room for... something.”

I’m walking away from the table on unsteady legs.

“Uh... okay,” Ashley says. “See you at dinner.”

I raise one arm in acknowledgement but keep walking.

I exit the patio and make it to the sprawling lobby. It’s when I’m stuck waiting for the elevator that I realize I might see him.

Them.

I glance around but they’re nowhere in sight. At his car maybe? Has she been to his house? Has she been all over his house the way I was?

I punch the button again. I don’t want them to come in and see me standing here but I don’t know where else to go. I just have to get to my room.

The elevator dings and I squeeze through as soon as the gap is big enough to admit me. I’m punching the round “7” button before the doors even finish opening.

I punch it again. “7.” Then the “Close door” button. Why do those never, ever work? What’s even the point of them? I glance at the lobby again, which I have a clear view of because the doors are still all the way fucking open. I still don’t see them. As I’m pummeling the “7” button, the doors finally close and I’m on my way.

As I clear the lobby level, the glass back of the compartment opens up to provide a view of the grounds and, as the car goes higher, the coast. I was enjoying this view earlier, when I’d checked in and brought my suitcase up to the room, but I keep my back to it now. I’m gripping the brass hand rail and bending part way over.

I can hardly think. All I can see in my mind is Grayson and Sam kissing each other hello then walking off together. My Grayson and my Sam.

The car dumps me out on the seventh floor and I rush down the hallway to my room. I fumble with the key card—red light, red light, green—and swing the door open. When I shut it behind me, I collapse against it and slide all the way down to the floor.

Grayson is here. He’s here at Isabella’s wedding with Sam and I think I’m going to just have to stay here in my room forever or else catch a plane to Bermuda or something. What in the hell just happened?

I sit there stunned, my heart pounding soundly in my ears, when there’s a sharp rap at the door.

I jump and let out an audible gasp.

I freeze, my heart falling down on the job again as it stops beating.

What if it’s Grayson? What if it’s Sam?

I sit there frozen another few seconds. There’s another knock, this time followed by Ashley’s voice, “Chloe? You okay?”

I scramble to my feet and open the door enough to peek out and verify it’s really her and that she’s alone.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

I open the door all the way and gesture her in. She comes in, giving me a questioning look, and I close the door behind her. Still hanging on to the door knob, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to steel myself.

“Chloe—” she begins.

“It’s him,” I say, grasping my hands together and holding them to my chest. “He’s the guy.”

“Who? What guy?”

“Grayson,” I say. I don’t know that I’ve ever said his name aloud. Not since I was with him. “Sam’s guy.”

“Yeah, who is that guy?” Ashley asks. “He looks so familiar. Did he go to Hartman with us?”

I shake my head impatiently. “We met him and another guy at the Perched Owl, remember? On the night of my—”

“—Not Wedding!” she says, her eyes lighting up as the mystery is solved. “That’s right!” Her expression falls again, trying to figure out what that has to do with my distraught state.

“He’s
the guy,
” I say.

A look of dawning falls over Ashley’s face, followed by a look of horror. “Oh my god.”

I put my hands over my face. “What am I going to do?”

“He’s the guy?”

I nod, my hands still over my face.

“The guy you slept with?”

I groan. “What am I going to do?” I say again.

“Okay,” Ashley says firmly. I slowly lower my hands to look at her. “Okay,” she says again, “let’s just... think for a minute.”

She leads me over to the bed and we sit down.

We both take a deep breath.

“So...” Ashley begins, then stops.

I nod. What in the hell can either one of us say?

“Um...” she says, then nothing.

“Ashley,” I say desperately, “What do I do? Do I tell her?”

“Ugh. I don’t know. Let’s... just... back up a second.” She takes another deep breath. “Are you... interested in him or anything?”

Interested? What difference does it make? I fucking
ran out
on him, and I did not miss the anger in his eyes when he saw me. And who can blame him? To top it off, he’s clearly gotten over it since he’s here as Sam’s fucking
date.
“Things ended really badly between us,” I answer. “Plus, it was, you know, just one night.”

“Okay,” she says, “then it’s not like you want to be with him or something.” I swallow hard. “So, this situation obviously isn’t...
ideal
. But, like you said, it was just a one-night stand so it’s not like he’s your ex or something.”

I blink at her and nod stupidly. That’s what it would be for a normal person anyway, right? Just a one-night stand and nothing more. In my weakened state, I’m not terribly inclined to admit I’m the kind of girl who falls for a guy after
one night.

“And...” she seems to be casting around, trying to catch her thoughts, “Sam didn’t know so she didn’t do anything wrong.”

“God no,” I say. “This isn’t Sam’s fault.”

It’s mine, mine, mine.

“And...” Ashley continues, “it’s not like we need to worry about her getting all serious about him because she doesn’t get serious about anybody. He’ll probably be in an out of here as fast as all of her other guys. So...”

Ashley let’s her sentence trail off and takes a deep breath.

“As far as the whole...” she gives me an uncomfortable look, “...
sharing
the same guy thing, knowing Sam, the damage has probably already been done.”

I groan and cover my face with my hands again. Oh god, the thought of them together literally hurts. And let me tell you, I’ve been down this road before when that bastard Brad cheated on me. But the thought of Grayson with Sam... I pinch my eyes against the mental image that springs unwanted to my mind.

“What do I do?” I groan. “I have no idea what to do.”

It’s quiet for a moment, then Ashley says gently, “I think this comes down to you and whether you can... handle this or not.”

I look at her and she shrugs sympathetically.

“If you can deal with it, you could just not say anything and it’ll all be over soon. She’ll probably be sick of him by week’s end anyway. I was kinda shocked she even agreed to the full five days.”

I nod. It’s a whole lot of one guy for Sam’s taste.

“But,” Ashley says, “if you can’t handle it, just tell her. She’ll send him packing.”

I sigh. Sam would, if I said something. But I don’t know if I can tell her. Do I really want that kind of thing going down during Isabella’s wedding? And is it fair to rob Sam of her plans when, let’s face it, I blew it with Grayson a long time ago? It’s not like I’m trying to claim territorial rights. He’s not mine to claim and never was. Right? What right have I to be selfish about it when, like Ashley said, the damage has already been done. It feels selfish to ruin Sam’s week (not to mention Isabella’s) just because of my drama.

But, a little dark corner of myself admits, I selfishly
don’t
want to tell her, because if I tell her she’ll send him away and I don’t want him to go. As fucked up as that is, this tiny, horrible part of me can’t bear the thought of him leaving.

But can I bear the thought of him staying, and all that implies?

I sigh. “What would you do?” I ask.

Ashley absently runs her hand down her long braid, bringing it in front of her shoulder and playing with the end. “I don’t know. This is a tough one. But... you know, it’s too late to avoid the ick factor. I think since he’s really not that important to either one of you, I’d maybe just let it slide. But Chloe, it really does come down to what you think you can handle. You’re the one who’s going to have to deal with it.”

I sit there for a while, debating with myself. The one thing I’d like to do—go back in time and make this not happen—isn’t really an option. So either I tell Sam (not appealing) or I suck it up and just try to get through the weekend (also not appealing).

The longer I sit there, the more I come down from the initial shock and the more I think I might need to just keep my mouth shut. Sam didn’t do anything wrong. Why should she have to suffer? And Grayson is clearly no longer an option for me either, no matter how much I may regret that fact. While I haven’t dated or been interested in dating anyone because I haven’t been able to get him out of my system yet, he’s obviously moved on. Do I really want to yank the rug out from underneath him once again? How callous would that be?

I glance out my window. The grassy grounds are covered with flowers and Bird of Paradise bushes and softly swaying palms. The sea beyond is glittering yellow in the late afternoon sun.