Page 123 of With a Cherry On Top

On the bench opposite me, a couple of guys are sprawled out, one snoring lightly, the other slumped forward, his arms crossed as if he just gave up on the idea of staying awake. For a second, I almost envy their ability to sleep through this. My own nerves are buzzing too much to even consider closing my eyes.

The drive here sobered me up quickly, but my memory of what happened before that is patchy at best. Peter hit me—that part I remember clearly. A punch to the face, a blur of movement, Charlotte’s voice—but the rest? A hazy mess.

Charlotte.

Where is she?

Last I saw her, she was being handcuffed and led to a different police cruiser.

Fucking hell. Why did I drink so many shots?

My stomach twists, an uncomfortable, sickening churn. Is she okay? What happens when Beatrice hears about this?Because she will. That asshole will tell her we were there together. And Josie’s cop friends will tell her everything—about the fight, about Charlotte. The fallout will be brutal.

“Aaron?”

I jerk my head up as Max, Josie’s partner, appears on the other side of the bars. Relief slams into me me as I push off the bench and hurry over. “Max, thank fuck. You have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

He studies me, eyebrows drawn tight. “Shit. It’s really you. What the fuck happened?”

“Bachelor party gone wrong,” I say, wincing as I shift the ice pack. “I, uh...might have been with someone who...was there with someone else, apparently.”

“Yeah? Let me guess—her boyfriend didn’t take too kindly to it?”

“Something like that.”

“You seem to be into that sort of thing.” He adjusts his belt. “Who threw the first punch?”

Ignoring the comment, I say, “He did. I didn’t hit him back.”

His chin jerks back. “You didn’t?”

“No.”

“But he has a broken nose. Pretty bad-looking.”

I blink. A broken nose? That makes no sense.

“I didn’t touch him.” He squints, as if he’s not sure he believes me, but I need one less worry in my mind, so I ask, “Where’s Charlotte? Charlotte Arnault? She was brought here with me.”

“She’s in holding. Looks fine, except for her...” He pauses, eyes widening. “Her hand. Wait—shepunched him?”

Charlotte. She’s the one who broke his nose.

Holy shit.

I’m not sure if I’m impressed or worried, but a strangled sound escapes me as I squeeze the bar harder. “I need to see her.Now.” My heart is hammering. If he touched her—if he so much as laid a finger on her—I’ll end up in a real cell, one I won’t be walking out of anytime soon.

Max eyes me carefully. “So, you and her...”

“Uhhh...” Of course he’d put it together. He probably knows how young she is too. “Yeah.”

“Huh. Come on, let’s go,” he says, moving to unlock the cell. I step out, my muscles aching with every movement. “I’ll just need to fill in some paperwork, then you can go.”

“What about Charlotte?”

As we walk toward the front desk, Max avoids my gaze entirely. “I can talk to the other guy. See if I can convince him to drop the charges against her with the leverage that you won’t press any against him.”

“And if he agrees?”

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