Page 7 of Three Pucking Ex's Brothers
“No, you’re just always a damn brat.”
Zayne preens at her insult, as if she just told him he was king of the world. “Why, thank you, baby,” he says, batting his eyelashes at her. She rolls her eyes, and I can’t help but laugh as he gets up and heads to us with his giant coffee.
“You want me to go, right, Nora?” he says, pouting as if he’s a child begging for a cookie. His blue eyes glisten, his spiky black hair catching the overhead lights and shimmering from the gel in it.
I swear, when he makes that face, he looks almost exactly like Ben Stiller inZoolander, when he goes head-to-head with Owen Wilson for the “model-off.”
“How can I say no to that face?” I say, faking my enthusiasm not because I don’t want him to go, but because I don’t want to go anywhere, period. But I know I should probably stop moping around my brother’s and at least make some sort of an effort to keep moving.
It’s over, Nora.
If it really isover…I should try to move on, right?
But how can I when all I can think about is Brett and the life we should’ve had? The anniversary weshouldhave had?
I know I can’t mope around my house and wait for Brett Sterling to show up at my door and tell me he’s sorry, and he loves me, and he never meant to be an idiot, and…
Zayne throws an arm around me and another around Abby. He flashes Abby an innocent gaze. “See…Nora says I can come.”
Abby sighs in exasperation. “Fine. But you’re the DD if that’s the case.”
Zayne groans as the doorbell jingles, letting us know a client’s in.
“Showtime, girls,” Pam says as she hops out of her chair and heads to greet the walk-in. Zayne groans but lets me go, heading for his station in the back by the dryers where Krystal is still folding her mountain of towels. Abby walks over to the middle station, giving me a soft smile as I head for my station closest to the coat rack and door.
“I’m not taking no for an answer,” she says, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at me. “You, me, Zayne. Tonight,High Line.” Her amber eyes catch mine with a knowing glare.
I nod as Pam walks the client over to my chair. “Nora will take care of you from here,” she says as the door opens again, this time with a client I do recognize. Mrs. Sanders, one of Abby’s regulars.
“Okay,” I say as I guide the client to the chair, focusing on the task at hand.
“I’ll pick you princesses up at seven, yeah?” Zayne says as he swishes his combs in his barbicide.
“Sounds good,” Abby says as she capes Mrs. Sanders, leaving me to focus on one task I know Icando, even with my damn eyes closed.
My job.
I swear, I’ve been living in a bubble or I’ve time-slipped somewhere, because I’ve never felt more like a sore thumb in my life.
I watch Zayne as he sips his Shirley Temple while ogling nearly every man who crosses our path and simultaneously swiping left or right on his phone.
“Try to look a little excited to be here,” Abby says as she comes to sit by me, handing me a drink with an overzealous amount of fruit on top.
“I am,” I say, though I can hear the falter in my own voice. Not even I would believe me.
Abby gives me a pointed look. “Brett Sterling may be hot, and he may be the next best thing hockey has ever seen, but he’s still an ass,” she says. “And he doesn’t deserve you. Not even a little bit.”
“I don’t know,” I say, my fingers sliding over the cool glass, spreading the moisture there. “I mean, sure, we had our problems, but who doesn’t, you know?” I stare into the glass before taking a sip.
“Oh! Nice!” Zayne whistles as he swipes right.
“Yeah, but no one should be havingthatmany problems in the firstyearof their relationship. That’s supposed to be the fun times, the romantic times…”
I bite my lip. “We did have fun, and he was romantic. We?—”
“Name one thing Brett Sterling did foryou. Not something you planned or coordinated. Not something you had to remind him of. Something he did for youjustbecause it was you and he wanted to make you happy.”
“That’s easy,” I say as I open my mouth, but…
