Page 58 of From West, With Regret

In the picture, West is sitting back, relaxed in a wooden chair, his arm draped over the back. The sleeves of his black button-down shirt are rolled up to his elbows, displaying his corded muscles and tattoos. A watch that probably costs more than three months of Selene’s rent is wrapped around his wrist, and he’s wearing rings on three of his fingers. I study each of them, remembering how they were between my thighs only hours ago, bringing me to the edge of a tall precipice.

His blue eyes stare straight at me, which is a ridiculous thought because he’s on the cover of a magazine. He was simply looking at a camera lens. But the emotion is still there, evident on his face, like he’s lived a life full of regret. I’m lost in his eyes when the necklace wrapped around his neck catches my attention. The air is lodged in my throat seeing it for the first time. It isn’t tucked under his shirt like it always is when I’m with him.

I click on the picture and try to zoom in to get a better look at what I’m sure is a charm resting against his chest. The balloon in my chest pops when the details are too difficult to make out. All I can see is that it’s a long, pointed piece of metal. Maybe one to two inches in length.

I sigh, scrolling back up to the top, and I tap my finger on the blue follow button before closing out the app and practically tossing my phone back onto my nightstand as though it’s on fire.

Forcing myself to close my eyes, images of West on the cover of Holt’s magazine, then the younger version of him in my dream, immediately come to life.

West breathing in my ear.

Telling me I’m beautiful.

His finger.

My cheek.

Moments both real and imaginary blending and turning to memories.

I don’t know what any of it means.

Are all these moments real?

Or do they only exist in my dreams?

Is my mind playing tricks on me?

The mind is a notorious liar.

Sleep drags me further into the darkness, taking with it the unanswered questions and one simple fact:

I am, without a doubt, down bad for Weston Knight.

SIXTEEN

LONDON

“I’m Stephanie, and I’ll be your personal bartender tonight!” the woman in a skimpy black cocktail dress shouts over the music. She turns to the side and gestures to the table set up in the corner of our VIP section. “If you need anything at all, please let me know. I can make you any drink you’d like.”

“Oh!” Julianna claps gleefully. “Let’s start with a bottle of champagne.”

Stephanie is quick to disappear to her drinks table, moving fast to get working on Julianna’s request.

“Are we celebrating something other than it just being our first girls’ night?” Selene asks. Her blonde hair is weaved into a beautiful Dutch braid, resting over her shoulder. She’s wearing the slinky number Julianna set aside for her yesterday, and she looks absolutely stunning. As do all of us.

“Are you kidding, Selene?” Julianna runs her hands down the front of her dress, glancing around the club before settling her bright eyes on the three of us standing in front of her. “We have a shit ton to celebrate. Charleigh’s wedding plans will finally begin, I finished up a remodel for a massive client out inParis, London landed a massive job drawing I don’t even know how many sketches for West’s bars.”

I can’t deny the way my heart jumps at the mention of West’s name. I haven’t stopped thinking about him since, well, since we first met. But the frequency of my thoughts has increased, especially since he’s now had his fingers buried deep inside me. I’m trying to slow it down, forcing myself not to text or call him until I’m required to see him again on Monday.

Julianna continues her praise on our groups accomplishments, when she lifts her arm and points directly at my sister. “And to my girl Selene, for finally,finallyfinishing the first draft of her very first book like the badass she is.”

“Hell, yeah!” Charleigh shouts, clapping enthusiastically.

Julianna and I join her before I lean to my right and give my sister a tight squeeze.

I release Selene as Stephanie returns with four champagne flutes resting on top of her black serving tray. Each one is filled with a beige-colored, fizzy liquid.

The four of us take a glass and clink them together in a toast. After I take a drink, I sit in the booth beside Selene, with Julianna on the other side of me.

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