Page 12 of Best of Me

“Sounds good!”

“Sweet! Oh, and check the laundry room for that box. I know Nate stuck some stuff in there.”

Sure enough, the box is exactly where she says, which is a relief. I don’t think my handy chopsticks could’ve lasted one more meal, and I’m far too stubborn to just go out and replace my cutlery.

By the time I finish unpacking my lost box, I only have half an hour to get ready and to the restaurant. Even for a low-key girl like me, thirty minutes is cutting it close when it comes to getting ready for a night out.

I don’t have time to shower, so a healthy dose of dry shampoo, some bronzer, mascara, and lip gloss will have to do.

I’m excited to take Jenny and Nate out to dinner tonight to thank them for helping me move in. Even though, technically, they invited me to dinner, I’m going to pay, and that’s that. “Can’t pay if you never get there,” I grumble to myself as I haul ass up the stairs to my loft to get dressed. I have less than five minutes to be out the door and on my way. I toss on the first thing I see, which happens to be a short blue and white tie-dye linen romper with long sleeves and a deep V neckline. I slide my feet into a pair of coral-red espadrille wedges, grab my oversized hobo bag, and dart out the door.

Luckily, I don’t hit any traffic on my short drive to the Black Sheep. Jenny swears up and down it is delicious, but going off of its non-descript exterior, I’m not so sure. Then again, I guess they say not to judge a book by its cover, so I’ll withhold any and all judgment until after our meal.

Stepping into the dimly lit space, I’m blown away. Clearly the plain brick exterior and single red-painted door in no way do the Black Sheep justice. Inside is an effortless mix of industrial modernism and old-world charm. The warm wood of the floors and ceiling meet cool steel beams. The tables are also metal, but they have a patina to them that just screams vintage, and none of the chairs match. All in all, it’s unlike anywhere else I’ve ever eaten before, and if the flavors wafting through the air are anything to go on, it’s going to possibly be even better than Jenny said.

At the hostess stand, I give her Nate’s last name, and she leads me straight back to them. They’re seated at a four-top with the two of them facing the door. Nate stands as I approach, and I can’t help but smile.

“Such a gentleman,” I murmur to Jenny, waggling my brows.

“Damn straight he is. His mama would skin him up one side and down the other if he wasn’t.”

“That’s the damn truth,” Nate grumbles, but his smile tells me that he loves his mother and that her intentions are pure. I can’t even begin to fathom what that’s like. Lord knows, most days, my mother did her best to pretend I didn’t exist.

“So, you found the place okay?” Jenny asks, breaking me out of my morbid thoughts.

I laugh. “This town has like three streets and two stoplights. I don’t think it’s possible to get lost.”

Nate grins. “You’d be surprised.”

“What’s good here?” I ask, grabbing one of the menus from the table.

“Everything,” Jenny says, her voice dead serious. “Also…I-may-have-invited-one-of-Nate’s-friends-to-join-us.” She says that last bit all as one word, so it takes me a second to figure it out.

But when I do…that little wench is trying to set me up!“Did you now?” I ask blandly, trying not to let the panic inside my chest bleed out into my words.

Nate rolls his eyes. “Just ignore Cupid over there. My buddy was supposed to help us move you, but he got called away. So, Jenny figured since y’all didn’t meet then, that now was as good a time as any. It’s not a set-up, so don’t worry. Duke’s a good guy.”

I freeze at that name.Duke.It’s not exactly common. But…it’s nothim.It couldn’t be, right?

As if on cue, Nate’s gaze cuts to something—or someone, more likely—behind me and he grins. “There he is now.”

I don’t turn and look. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to; I’m completely glued in place. In my peripheral, I see a large, tatted-up hand reach to pull out the chair next to me. The sound of the chair sliding against the floor is like nails on a chalkboard, causing me to cringe. The large form lowers into the seat next to me and his scent—something dark and heady and addictive—immediately envelops me.

A small tremor works its way through me—a premonition, like something terrible or life-changing is about to happen. I do my best to shake off my crazy before slowly turning to face the man seated next to me, ready to introduce myself. “Hey, I’m—” My words dry up faster than a puddle in the Sahara, because right next to me, close enough to touch in all of his hulking, brooding glory, is the man my sister loved up until her dying breath, Duke Kincaid.

chapter seven

Duke

My vision blurs before tunneling.Cold sweat runs down my spine as I stare straight at a ghost. I want to look away. To blink. Something, anything. But I can’t, and she’s all I see. The noise and chatter surrounding me fade away until all I can hear is my own shallow breathing as I desperately try to send oxygen to my lungs.In, out. In, out.From the corner of my eye, I see Nate’s mouth moving, but his words don’t penetrate the haze blanketing me.

What the fuck?Those three words play on a loop as I choke back the bile creeping up the back of my throat. I want to run, to flee and pretend this never happened, but I’m rooted to the spot. “Val…” Her name passes my lips like a curse, bitter-tasting and vile, because as much as I want it to be her, it’s not; my girl’s gone, dead and buried.

What a cruel twist of fate for me to end up here not even two years after her death, staring at a woman that looks so much like my stolen forever that my heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest.

My stare never wavers as I drink her in. She’s so right it burns my eyes to look at her, yet I can’t look away. Seeing her is like coming home, even though logically I know she’s really so wrong. Her skin’s too tawny, and her hair’s too dishwater. Her eyes are more honey and less whiskey. Her clothes are all wrong, quirky where Val was pure class.

My lips part, but no sound comes out. It’s like I’m in the Twilight Zone, trapped and staring at an alternate version of the future I could’ve had.

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