Page 58 of Love Her

“Only if we hit the bar first,” I said, chucking back the rest of my Negroni.

Thirty minutes later,I was pretending to be high—but the performance issues were real.

Turned out my dick was like the rest of me—only interested in Lia Ferreo—which was good, it made everything easy, as Lucy insisted on fumbling in the direction of my dick above my pants.

I let her feel like she gave a college try, but then dodged it the most brutal way I could, telling her a story from my childhood.

“She was just such a good girl, you know?” I started off, with almost real tears brimming in my eyes. “Sometimes she was a bitch, but, very loyal, very loyal—” I said, telling her about Maggie, who’d been the dog at the stable when I was sixteen. She’d follow me around waiting for scraps, and she was the best rat catching terrier—she had a killer instinct like you couldn’t believe. “And everything was just fine up until, stupid fucking Mulligan.”

The man owned three of the fastest horses, and he pulled out too fast one night, drunk, and squashed Maggie flat.

I’d had to shovel her into the trash the next day.

“She…cheated on you? With him?” Lucy asked, gently patting my arm, as I pretended to cry.

“Yeah,” I said. “Something like that.” Then I beat my hand to my chest. “Shit, man—these pills—they’re making me feel.”

“Anything below the waist?” poor Lucy asked, desperately hoping I’d fuck her so she wouldn’t have to be my therapist.

“No—not yet—maybe I’m not ready, I don’t know—” I said, standing, wiping a hand beneath my nose. “I’m sorry for wasting your time,” I said, holding out another wad of hundreds to her, and her eyes about fell out of her head.

“No, no, you haven’t at all,” she said, taking the money and hiding it quickly away. “I can wait?—”

“No—though. You’re sweet. I appreciate that. Maybe next time.”

She gave me an encouraging maternal nod. “I’m here a lot.”

“And so’s your friend?” I asked her, jerking my head to the booths we’d left behind.

“Yeah. All the time. If you need any more pills, look him up.”

“Thanks,” I said, pulling her into an awkward hug, where she patted my back instead of grinding—and I made my escape.

I was back in bed by one—which was late, and I didn’t know what talk show they’d want Lia to parade herself around on tomorrow—but I knew she’d worry about me till she heard.

Sure enough, she’d fallen asleep on her bed with her lights still on, again—a habit I found charming, since she wanted me to see her—and I could see her phone clutched to her chest in her hand.

Back in my apartment. Stay asleep, little girl. I’ll text you tomorrow.

And of course she had her notifications on. She woke up and gave her phone a bleary look before giving the camera a dreamy smile, blowing me a kiss before turning over to sleep.

30

LIA

“If you’d let me keep my stripper heels, this dress wouldn’t need so much pinning,” I said, over a wall of tulle poof, at Arnold.

Rhaim had texted me good morning at seven AM, and I’d texted him back a screenshot of Arnold’s calendar for me for the day, which earned anOooffrom him—because it was wall-to-wall wedding planning.

“Or, you could buy me some new Louboutin’s?” I offered instead, rising up on my toes precipitously—making the poor seamstress working at my hemline curse.

The one upshot of getting married off to a terrifically older man like some sort of prized cow, was that Marcus’s mother wasn’t still around to get a vote.

But then, neither did I—Arnold was very much running the show.

He contemplated the dress from all angles. “I think half-an-inch longer. And can we do something about the sleeves?” he pleaded with the dress maker.

“No,” I said. “I’m a modest woman, believe it or not.”

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