Page 25 of The Heartbreak List

Of course she looks like a girl in love. She’s dating the right guy for her. Even if I dislike the man I’ve never met, for absolutely no reason, other than the tight sensation in my gut.

Or perhaps it’s the fact that she’s here pouring over this list with me instead of him, writing words likekiss in the rainon a list of things she wants to do before she dies, while not eating or drinking a damn thing all day because he’s decided it’s a good idea.

And I can’t fault him for that, even if I don’t like it. Hell, I sympathize with the man. I remember being willing to do anything and everything in my power, and being aware the whole time that I was completely powerless.

No, I can’t blame him for behaving how I once did. But I can totally find him lacking for not kissing her in the rain and anywhere else she might want. Not when they’ve been together long enough to be getting married.

Would it be absurd for me to hold a grudge over my perceived belief in his mishandling of her lips? I kind of think it might be a problem.

“Hey, there. Can I get a glass of white wine?” The woman sidles up to me from the opposite end of the bar, which is probably why I don’t notice her until she’s standing right in front of me. She’s wearing a masculine white button down that is understated but hot.

She drops lightly onto the nearest barstool and puts her purse on the divide while I grab the white and pour it into a goblet.

She looks me up and down. “You must hear this all the time, but you have gorgeous eyes.”

I smile lazily. “It never gets old.”

Indy ducks her head into her hand as she laughs at whatever her fiancé said on the phone. A ruddy pink spreads in her cheeks while she draws circles on the bartop. “Well, I kind of did something out of character today. You’re not going to believe it…”

The last thing I need to be doing is listening to Indy’s conversation. I focus on the gorgeous blonde in front of me. Exude the full power of my unique eyes as I lean on the bar. “You’re not a regular, are you?”

She runs a finger along the rim of her glass with a slight shake of her head. “How could you tell?”

“I know you were supposed to come with me,” Indy’s voice reaches me anyway. “And it’s not permanent, so we can…”

“I don’t forget beautiful women.” I drag my gaze over every visible inch of the blonde. I’m not about to take her to the back room, but I could see myself asking her to come watch me fight. “What’s your name?”

“Skye.” She rubs her lips together and smiles. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

I lean in to impart my next line.

“Why?” Indy’s voice grows louder, panicked. “Well, because… oh crap, is that the time? I’m sorry. I’ve gotta go.”

She hangs up before her fiancé can possibly get in another word. Tosses her phone on the counter. And drops her head in her hands.

Shit. That didn’t go well.

I drop the blonde, climbing up over the bar like it’s any given Friday. The blonde sucks in a sharp breath as I land on my feet a foot from her. Then I’m crushing the distance to Indy whose shoulders are shaking.

“Hey,” the blonde calls out after me, but she’ll get the hint.

Indy is fucking distraught, and my heart is pounding in my chest. What did that asshole say to her? Okay, he’s probably not an asshole and I definitely shouldn’t call him one to her face, but I’m still going to think it when she looks this fucking fragile. I reach out to hug her then veer off at the last possible second, smoothing my hand over the top of my hair instead. “What happened? Is he angry?”

“Angry? He?” Indy lifts her head from her hands. Fresh tears have made her eyes watery. Her lids are already starting to puff. “That was my bestie. America. You met her. Kind of.”

“The girl who rescued you from me that night in the bathroom?” The chick who looked a little like Zendaya.

“I didn’t need rescuing.” She wipes the wetness that brims over her lashes. “But yes, that’s America. Absolutely gorgeous and super brainy. She’s studying linguistics at Cambridge.”

“I’m more interested in what she said to you.” I use my thumb to gather up an errant tear from her jaw.

“It’s more that I haven’t told her.” She closes her eyes against the pain as she shakes her head. “I’m keeping secrets from my best friend. We’ve never kept secrets. But I couldn’t be the reason she didn’t go to Cambridge and have this big life experience. Now I don’t know how to tell her. Every time she asks how I am…it gets harder to work out the right words…everything is different…and I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want to be the reason she comes home either.”

Her shoulders heave and the tears run unimpeded down her face. She carries the responsibility of her friend’s overwhelming grief like she should be able to change the situation. She carries her fiancé’s fears too. And probably her whole family’s.

Wrapping my arms around her is a no brainer. Letting her stain my shirt with her tears is no big deal. And if that sniffle means there’s snot, well, I’ll go to the office and break out a fresh T-shirt when she’s done using me as a tissue. Probably will have to anyway or spend the evening smelling like a flower. “It’s a big step, and it’s okay to not be ready to have that conversation yet.”

“I’m jealous too,” she whispers as she pulls away. “I can’t believe I’m admitting that, but I am. She has her entire life ahead of her. She’s going to get to travel and see the world. She’s going to get to settle down and have the family that I always wanted. And I’m going to be a memory. And I know that’s awful to be jealous of her when she’s my best friend…and that I should be grateful for the life I’ve had—”

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