Page 39 of Best Served Cold

I try to explain that, and Hannah starts laughing hysterically. “He planted his seed inside of you?”

So being drunk in the middle of the night in a wedding dress isn’t the best time to have a serious conversation…

“I guess I’m trying to say that he’s not all bad.”

“No,” she agrees. “And he’s, like,at leastten times hotter than Jonah. Maybe twenty. It’s too bad you don’t like him like that. It would have been the ultimate queen-bee-level revenge for you to hook up with his brother.”

“You could,” I say, immediately regretting it, although not because I have a thing for Rob. Sure, he’s a better person than I thought, and he’s interesting and talented, and, yes, quite good-looking, but he’s also the brother of the man I was supposed to marry. There are talk shows for that kind of thing.

“Nah,” she says flippantly. “He’s not my type. I have this pattern where I always date assholes and then act surprised and affronted when they turn out to be assholes. It’s my thing.”

We laugh and then fall asleep talking. It feelsgood. I’d forgotten what it was like to have a friend like this.

Sure, I had Jonah before all of this happened, but that was different. With him, I was always on guard. My happiness withhim had felt tenuous, as if it could be snatched away if I failed to walk along the carefully marked line he’d drawn for me. I’d been so careful, and it had happened anyway.

I think again of what Rob said to me. If Jonah hadn’t switched our phones that morning, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t have Hannah or Briar, and even Dottie would only be a sweet acquaintance, not a real friend. I certainly wouldn’t be friendly with Rob.

Worse, I’d still be engaged to a man who was using me in the worst possible way.

So, yes, I decide I can be grateful for the phone swap. Even though I wish I’d kneed Jonah in the balls the day we met instead of giving him my number.

The thought makes me laugh softly to myself as I fall asleep.

When Hannah’s alarm startles us awake in the morning, we’re still sprawled out on the living room sectional, our feet touching because it’s too small for two sleeping adults. I’m still in the wedding dress, which was never comfortable and is now less so. The stick-on bra I’d needed to wear with it has shifted and adhered to just below my collarbone, making me look like a Picasso. The empty bottle of schnapps lies on its side on the parquet wooden floor. At least we had the presence of mind to remove the red satin floor covering.

“I hate Past Hannah,” Hannah groans, rubbing her forehead. Her makeup is smeared, and she’s pale, but otherwise she looks okay. I’m sure I really do look like Miss Havisham now, and my mouth tastes like rotten peaches.

“I’m not fond of Past Sophie right now either,” I say with a groan as I sit up.

“Why not?” Hannah asks with a grin. “She gave you a third boob. You’re basically unstoppable now.”

We laugh, then groan again, because it hurts to laugh.

After I change into sweatpants and throw the horrible sticky bra in the trash, I make us coffee and dry toast.

Hannah asks me to come to Big Catch for lunch, but I have a different plan. I don’t have to work today. I took the day off because I had a feeling I’d be massively hungover. Go, past me! So I’m going back to the ginger beer brewery. First, because I realized last night that we never paid for our drinks, and I’m mortified that we stiffed them. Second, to ask some leading questions about Jonah and why he got banned from the brewery.

“Ugh. I want to come,” Hannah says after I share my plans. She sets down her dry toast. “But one of the corporate overlords is coming by today.”

Otis comes into the kitchen, wearing his flannel pajama bottoms and a Garbage Fire T-shirt. The logo is of, well, a garbage fire. But the dumpster has eyes. It’s kind of a cute design, actually.

My cousin isn’t an early riser, but he has a sixth sense for when other people have made coffee and breakfast.

“Did Rob give you that shirt?” I ask with a smile.

He nods with the stupor of someone who doesn’t function properly without caffeine. “After one of his shows.”

A sweet gesture.

I can’t help but wonder what Rob would look like belting out his songs. But I shake off the thought; I don’t like the strange way it’s making me feel. Or the impulse to go on their website and check the schedule for their next show. He’d think it was weird if I just showed up and fangirled over them, wouldn’t he?

Still, he mentioned they’d be playing at Buchanan sometime soon. I make a mental note to ask my boss about it.

Otis seems unimpressed by the dry toast I set in the middle of the table but shrugs and takes a piece. Then he pours himself some coffee and settles into the chair next to me, across from Hannah.

“Maybe I’ll ask Briar to come with me on her lunch break,” I muse, and Otis perks up like a golden retriever puppy offered a treat.

“Can I come?”

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