Page 4 of False Start

In the quiet of the elevator, it hits me: I'm annoyed because we'll probably have to see each other again. She said it—See you around. And we will, because her best friend is married to my brother. For as long as the marriage lasts, she'll be there for every Halloween or Christmas party. She could show up at Thanksgiving. If Mom has anything to do with it, she might even pop up at the occasional Sunday dinner. This, and my bad blood with Maya, is exactly why I ruled the bridesmaids off-limits when I was sober enough to be smart. Now I'm stuck pretending I don't know what she looks like naked. That I don't secretly want a rematch to see if the sex is as good as I think it was.

I chuck my shirt into the dirty clothes hamper once I'm inside and walk to the kitchen to make my post-workout smoothie when the intercom buzzes. I jog back to press the button.

"Hello?"

"Hey," Mike's strong Staten Island accent answers. "I have a Ms. Jeffries here to see you?" The name doesn't ring a bell.

"Who?"

"A Ms.DeniseJeffries?"

I can't help the smile that spreads across my face.Well, well, well!It looks like I'll get my rematch after all.

"Send her up, Mike."

"Very good, sir."

The intercom cuts off, and I run to grab a fresh shirt before answering the knock on the door. Denise stands in my entryway looking sheepish. I don't bother hiding my smirk.

"Couldn't stay away, huh?"

She pushes past me into my apartment.

"Ha! Definitelynot. I got all the way to my apartment before I realized I wasn't wearing my necklace. Have you seen it? It's a butterfly pendant with rubies on the wings on a gold chain."

She actually looks agitated. I guess thiswasn'ta ruse to sleep with me again.

"I haven't seen a necklace, but I also just got back from a run. I haven't had a chance to straighten up since you left."

She taps her foot impatiently.

"Do you mind if I have a look? I'm really hoping I lost it here and not at the venue last night."

I gesture toward my apartment.

"Be my guest."

She charges into the living room first, getting on her knees to look under the couch. I tear my eyes from her ass when she's on all fours and make my way to the kitchen to get started on the smoothie.

Over the rim of my blender, I can see her movements are almost frantic; she looks distressed. She takes off towards the bedroom and I instinctively follow her.

Without asking, I start helping her look, checking in the sheets, on my side tables, under the bed. There's still no sign of the necklace, and I whip my head around when I hear a sniffle from her side of the room. She's kneeling by my desk, clearly trying to hold back tears. I'm across the room in an instant.

"Whoa, Denise. It's OK. I'm sure it'll turn up." I'm not used to an emotional woman, let alone a crying one, so I have no idea what to do. She slumps into my desk chair, her eyes welling up.

"The necklace is…important to me. I really can't lose it," she whispers.

I'll do anything to keep those tears from spilling. Panicking, I put my arms around her shoulder.

"It's OK. We'll keep looking until we find it. Please don't cry."

She wipes her eyes and glares at me.

"I wasnotcrying. I'm just a little emotional because I'm still hungover."

I look at her doubtfully, but her face is unreadable now. She jerks out of my embrace and nearly runs to the bathroom. Even with the door closed, I can hear her throwing up.Gross.

I knock softly when ten minutes pass and she's still barricaded inside.

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