Chapter 3 Drinks & Drama

It's been three days.

Three whole days.

I have been hiding in my room. Well, technically our studio.

The only time I leave is for family events, and even then I make a quick appearance before disappearing again.

My mother has invited Owen and Jason to dinner every single night.

And the assholes keep showing up.

So I hide.

I can't face him.

Not yet.

Not after The Green Door.

Not after the way he looked at me.

Those eyes.

God.

I groan and drop my forehead against my desk.

Catori walks into the studio looking like an actual zombie.

Dark circles under her eyes.

Messy hair.

Zero personality.

Honestly, it's impressive.

I know exactly what's wrong.

Constantine's announcement wrecked her.

During high tea at the Marigold Hotel, he'd casually dropped the bomb that he was moving out.

Just like that.

My bonus dad, Mason has been taking us there since we were toddlers. It was practically a family tradition.

This time we'd gone as a full family.

Then Constantine had somehow managed to bring up The Green Door.

Because apparently humiliation is one of his hobbies.

I focus back on my work.

The patchwork bag is finally finished.

Packed.

Boxed.

Ready to ship.

I'm already sketching the next design.

Some basketball player commissioned it for his girlfriend.

The man sends the most confusing emails I've ever read.

Every message somehow raises more questions than it answers.

Eventually I gave up and asked for more information about her.

Then I looked her up myself.

Within five minutes, I knew exactly what she'd like.

I finish the last sketch and hit send.

Off for approval.

Across the room, Catori is working on her white-and-cream crocodile bag.

All she has left is the hardware.

I rub my hands.

Again.

Too much cutting.

Too much sewing.

Too much everything.

I know I've overdone it.

"You should get those looked at."

Catori doesn't even glance up.

Tools in hand, she carefully attaches another piece of hardware.

My phone suddenly buzzes.

Both of us look at the screen.

Constantine.

Of course.

He'd practically sprinted out of the penthouse this morning.

Apparently furnishing an entire house by yourself seemed like a good idea.

Idiot.

I already know why he's calling.

"Constantine?" I answer.

"I need help."

I grin.

"With what?"

Across the room, Catori is already laughing.

"I need help picking out a ring for my girl."

I freeze.

Then he delivers the knockout punch.

"I'm proposing."

"What?!"

The screech that leaves my mouth could probably be heard from space.

Catori freezes too.

For one terrible second, she looks like she's about to burst into tears.

He's dating someone, she mouths.

I shrug.

How the hell should I know?

Before I can ask another question, she snatches the phone from my hand.

"What?" she repeats.

Her voice comes out high and strained.

She listens.

Nods.

Listens some more.

The entire time I can see the heartbreak written all over her face.

Poor thing.

She is so hopelessly in love with him.

Sooner or later our parents are going to notice.

Then we're all going to need therapy.

A few minutes later she hangs up.

"We're meeting him."

I groan.

"I want to work."

She ignores me.

Twenty minutes later we're standing inside Sticks and Stones.

Furniture shopping.

My favorite activity.

That was sarcasm.

We spend what feels like six years wandering through showrooms while Constantine follows us around like a giant lost puppy.

The saleswoman mistakes Catori for his girlfriend.

The look of pure joy on her face nearly kills me.

I keep my mouth shut.

I'm not touching that disaster.

Then Constantine asks her which bed she prefers.

I physically step backward.

Hold on.

What?

Does he have feelings for her?

No.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

My family tree is complicated enough.

By the time we're done shopping, my brain hurts.

Somewhere along the way, I completely forget to ask if Owen and Jason are joining us later.

Instead, I give Constantine the name of the goth beach club and leave. He is getting us drinks for helping him.

Which turns out to be a mistake.

A massive mistake.

Because now I'm walking toward our cabana and I've already spotted him.

Owen.

He's laughing at something Jason said.

The sound carries across the pool deck.

Like a damn hyena.

And somehow he's still attractive.

Life is unfair.

I take a deep breath.

The entire group turns toward us.

Immediately.

They're talking about us.

I know they're talking about us.

Then every single one of them looks directly at Catori.

Of course they do.

She wore a bikini today instead of her usual oversized shirt and shorts.

I love this place.

Everything is black.

Black lounge chairs.

Black cabanas.

Black palm trees.

Even the pool water glows deep red.

Women in barely-there bikinis float around the lazy river on giant inflatable bats.

Servers weave through the crowd carrying trays of neon-colored drinks.

This is my kind of place.

The clean-cut country-club version of Owen looks wildly out of place here.

The closer we get, the hotter I become.

Not temperature-wise.

Unfortunately.

Catori immediately drops down next to Constantine.

Practically glued to him.

The poor guy tries to look unaffected.

Fails miserably.

I claim a chair across from Owen.

The second I sit, his eyes find me.

Of course they do.

I set my bag down.

My bikini top shifts.

I adjust it.

And my nipple slips out.

Fuck.

Me.

Sideways.

I cover myself instantly.

Too late.

I look up.

Owen's eyes are huge.

He saw.

Wonderful.

Absolutely wonderful.

His beer bottle slips from his hand.

Glass hits the floor.

Beer sprays everywhere.

"Party foul!" Jason shouts.

Owen flips him off without looking away from me.

Not helping.

Not helping at all.

Constantine calls over a server and orders more beers.

I order vodka on the rocks.

I need it.

Catori orders something bright green with a ridiculous name.

The girls in the neighboring cabana suddenly get louder.

Much louder.

Owen glances over.

Three seconds later they're all flirting with him.

Because of course they are.

God.

He's such a flirt.

I cannot sit here and watch him charm women after looking at me the way he did.

And I am still mortified I flashed him.

I stand.

"Catori. Come with me."

She follows without question.

The gift shop carries everything.

Bikinis.

Cover-ups.

Dresses.

Souvenirs.

Towels.

Half the inventory has the Cabinet of Curiosities logo plastered on it.

I buy a black dress.

Rip the tag off.

Pull it over my head.

Then untie my bikini and shove it into my bag.

I'm not swimming anyway.

When we return, the entire group of women has invaded our cabana.

One blonde is sitting directly in Owen's lap.

Her fingers are tracing the rubber ducks on his swim trunks.

Desperate much?

I drop into my chair.

Pick up my drink.

And drain the entire thing.

Meanwhile, Catori somehow ends up arguing with Constantine.

A redhead joins in.

Then Jason joins in.

Because apparently everyone has lost their minds.

Catori stomps back over and drops into the chair beside me.

Constantine stands.

His face has gone cold.

Dangerously cold.

The kind of cold that always comes before someone gets hurt.

"What did you say?" he asks.

Catori lifts her chin.

Defiant.

"I said you're not my brother."

Oh.

Shit.

The entire cabana falls silent.

Constantine absolutely unloads on her.

Every word sharper than the last.

I can see tears forming in her eyes.

Across the cabana, Owen keeps glancing at me.

The blonde is still draped across his lap.

His hand is on her thigh.

Yet somehow his attention keeps returning to me.

I hate it.

I hate that I notice.

I hate that it bothers me.

Most of all, I hate that it hurts.

I stand and grab Catori's wrist.

"Let's fucking go."

She doesn't argue.

Good.

One of us is acting sane.

"This is the last time I help that asshole," I mutter as I drag her away.

Behind us, Constantine shouts her name.

Neither of us turns around.

We make it all the way to the parking lot before my phone starts vibrating inside my bag.

I pull it out.

My stomach drops.

Owen.

How the hell did he get my number?

And why is he calling?

I send him straight to voicemail.

Two seconds later my phone buzzes again.

Not a call this time.

A text.

Against my better judgment, I open it.

Then I stop walking.

Completely.

Because there are only four words on the screen.

Don't go home tonight.