Page 15 of The New Year's Party
Sexy?
Your hearts desire?
And on and on. Did he havenothingbetter to do than stroke his own ego via texting his ex—
Wait...
New Year’s party. Tonight. Bunny’s heart pounded uncomfortably. She hated confrontation. Hated it. But what she hated more was getting screwed out of forty thousand dollars and a prime piece of Michigan City real estate that, although slightly in shambles, was practically historical.
She made a grimacing smile.
Will would be at New Year’s.
She started the engine. Maybe she and Will hadn’t been super close in the past few years. But to imagine him stabbing her in the back without her knowledge during the most vulnerable time in her life...
Damnit. She hadtriedto be Nice Bunny.LovingBunny.AcceptingBunny. But she kept getting screwed over. First by Nathan. Then by Elliott. Now by Grandpa MaxandWill.
Maybe nice was weak. She’d lost out on money. Money she needed, money she was owed. Maybe it was time to serve up some revenge pie, let Will get a taste of what he deserved.
She still had time to make it to the outlet mall for a dress, if she hurried.
She texted quickly.
Give me the deets for tonight, I’d love to stop by!!
Chapter 6
Phelps
December 31, 11:30 a.m.
“Thank God you’re here.” Phelps opened the door to his New Year’s date, Allie. They’d met at O’Sullivans over in South Bend a couple weeks ago and hit it off at the pool table. Her cleavage had helped. His New Year’s RSVPs were all coming in by then, and as they got drunk and the sexual tension built between them, he talked up his old friend group and its storied origins, the highlight reel of New Year’s parties they’d shared over the years, and the menu he was planning for their big reunion party (girls were always drawn to good cooks). They ended up making out in a dark corner until Allie threw up and he called her an Uber and put his number in her phone so she could text him when she got home safe. She was so small—so petite—but with curves like a camel on steroids, which he’d always had a weakness for. It was cute that she couldn’t handle her liquor.
He hadn’t seen Allie since then. He’d tried, but she was a busy kindergarten teacher with holiday performances to pull off and parent–teacher conferences to survive. So it was a nice surprise when, two days ago, she texted,Wantto go out with me for NYE??He reminded her of his party plans and invited her. She accepted.
“Are you sure? We’re all old,” he said the next day, laughingwhen she called him to get the details—what to wear, if she should bring anything—and she laughed and said she was an old twenty-four anyway. And now, added bonus, she’d offered to come early and help get his place ready.
It was eleven thirty. Six and a half hours until liftoff, and he was already making a dent in the elaborate menu. Phelps had always loved cooking. Food was the easy part. The problem was the rest of the house.
“This is way worse than you said,” Allie said, stepping inside with a crinkle to her nose as her eyes swept the living room. “Please tell me you have Clorox wipes. Paper towels. And a vacuum cleaner with a really strong suck.”
Phelps scanned the living room as his mind tried to spin out a clever, subtly dirty response tostrong suck. The living room chez Phelps was a big space with a couple faux leather couches with various rips on the backs and arms. A La-Z-Boy, aka, Dad’s Chair. A jumbo TV. The odd picture or two of the boys on the wall, and the giant clock that his ex-wife Kylie called “modern farmhouse.” Okay, yes, the carpet had some stains.
“Of course I have Clorox wipes,” he said as he closed the door behind her and she peeled off her knee-high boots. “Ihave boys. They can’t hit the toilet with their piss to save their lives.”
Skyler and Kayden were with him on weekends. Thankfully, New Year’s fell on a Tuesday this year, because Kylie didn’t like any disruptions to their custody schedule, and this party was an adults-only affair.
Phelps could feel the stir of excitement in the air. The memories of previous New Year’s parties were bubbling up inside him like a high. The year they’d all pricked their fingers and sworn eternal friendship. The year with the message-in-a-bottle game. The Truth or Dare year when Will proposed to Jenn, sending the whole group into a frenzy of joy. The year he’d done the poached pears with the red wine reduction,making Olivia groan with pleasure, one of the most sensual sounds he’d ever heard...
Allie was now removing her winter gear—hat, scarf, coat.
“Let me get that.” Phelps whipped the bundle out of her hands and hung her things neatly in the coat closet even as a tumble of kid-sized snow boots avalanched out.
“You havegotto be kidding me. Is this really how you live?” Allie said, kicking one of the snow boots back in.
“It’s a closet,” Phelps said suavely, closing the door. “No one cares about that. And if they do, trust me, the chocolate mousse will make them forget.”
“Well, let’s see how the rest of the place looks,” she said with a sigh like she didn’t expect much. And then she was off, prancing down the hall in her tight jeans and equally tight turtleneck. Phelps followed the small storm of a human being as she opened doors to bedrooms, the fridge, the cupboards, and finally the walk-in pantry where the extra liquor stash lived on the bottom two shelves. She squatted, trailing her finger over the bottles. Her jeans dipped down, revealing the string of a thong. A shiver went through Phelps and he leaned casually against the doorframe.
