Chapter 6

6

L IZ

I move my stuff on Friday.

It's not much. I have my laptop and accessories, as well as my clothing, bed sheets, favorite duvet, pillows, and shoes.

There are a few books, boxes of knickknacks, and one set of plates, bowls, flatware, and cooking utensils to fill the kitchen cupboards and drawers.

In total, about five large boxes and four smaller ones.

Chloe helps me with the boxes, and Terry stops by after work with a bag of groceries.

We eat dinner late––spaghetti bolognese, garlic bread, salad, and dessert––sitting around the coffee table in the living room with glasses of wine in front of us.

It's not like eating at the kitchen table, but this works for us since I only have two chairs.

I feel good about my life, and I think less about my book and more about my place.

We eat cake and chat.

Chloe brought the cake. Apricot Grande Mariner. Fancy cake like Chloe.

The cake is delicious, and there's plenty left for me to indulge in when they say their goodbye and exit my place at eleven at night.

My first night at home is uneventful.

I sleep well in my new bed, wake up early, and go to school. And then I head straight to work.

It's a busy day at Maggie's, the merchandise flying off the shelves.

My phone rings at six in the evening.

"Are you still at work?" Chloe asks.

"I'm about to walk out. Where are you?"

"In front of your place."

I smile.

"You're crazy."

She chuckles.

"More like I have nothing else to do. I'm ready to party."

Laughing, I make a beeline for my beat-up car.

"It's only six o'clock."

"I know how long it takes you to get ready, so I'm here to assist you."

I grin.

"Sure. Like I need your help."

"I think you do."

I reach my car, slide into the driver's seat, turn on the engine, and steer it out of the parking lot.

We talk all the way to my place.

She's waiting for me in front of the house, decked out in something that looks like fancy pajamas from afar.

She sure knows how to make a fashion statement. She's always been bold in her clothing choices.

Slowing my car to a stop, I take a better look.

"No, you didn't," I say, laughing, turning off the engine and rising from the driver's seat.

I sling my backpack over the shoulder, shut the door, and head her way.

"What exactly are you wearing?"

Smiling from ear to ear, she spins around to show me what she's picked for tonight.

The silky set is comprised of long flowing, low sitting pants revealing her teasing hips and navel, and a cropped, half-buttoned top exposing her skin and black lace bra.

The straps of her matching panties peek out from above the waistband of her pants.

Her long, dark, shiny hair tumbles down her back in lazy rings, setting off her white outfit.

Silver jewelry highlights her small earlobes, delicate wrists, sculpted collarbones, and long fingers.

Her outfit looks like the love child of a rapper and a fashion house.

She even wears dark sunglasses, although the sun is quietly sliding down to go to sleep.

"I look like a librarian next to you," I say. "What kind of party do you have in mind?"

"The kind that starts and ends with sex. The last time I had sex––"

My hand goes up.

"No need to know."

She smiles like a Cheshire Cat.

"Maybe you do."

I move past her, unlock the door, and walk in.

My backpack meets the kitchen counter before I kick off my shoes.

"How did you get here?" I ask, glancing at her over my shoulder.

Distracted, she doesn't answer.

I wipe the soles of my shoes with a cloth before heading to the walk-in closet to put them away.

"The love you show those shoes moves me to tears," she comments as I walk into the bedroom with her right behind me.

I set my shoes on a small rack in the closet and take my clothes off while she slides onto the bed and falls back into a stack of pillows.

The thing is, I missed her so damn much. And although I've never thought about it in those terms, I think her absence has played a major role in feeling stranded.

Things were fun when she was here.

"So…" I start before remembering my previous question.

Wearing only my underwear, I latch a hand onto my hip and arch an eyebrow at her.

"How did you get here?"

"Took a cab. I'm not driving tonight. We are not driving tonight. I don't know about you, but I want to get wasted, not to be the designated driver. Plus, I wouldn't mind hitting a stranger's bed tonight," she says, her gaze moving to the ceiling.

My disapproving silence prompts her to shift her eyes back to me.

A devilish smile glints in her eyes.

"You are going to get me in so much trouble," I say, picking up my bathrobe and heading to the bathroom.

"And you love it," she tosses behind me.

I slam the door over her words, grinning.

LIZ

Later

"No way, Chloe. You've brought me to the club?"

We walk away from the cab and join a stream of people pushing through the large doors of one of the biggest clubs in Colorado.

This is the club where we brought Thea when she met Ed. I think it was Chloe's idea back then too.

She's always been a fun loving girl.

The establishment is part of the Sexton International business conglomerate, which includes hotels––one of them is attached to the club––the most successful casino in Colorado, restaurants, office buildings, and a real estate portfolio valued at insane numbers.

The place looks as flashy and decadent as ever.

Perhaps even more decadent now with those beams of lights sweeping the front entrance, inviting the patrons in.

Not that they need a nudge in that direction.

Groups of people make their way in.

Chloe loops his arm through mine, and we walk past a bouncer. The man tips his chin down, acknowledging us.

"Does he know you?"

She doesn't answer.

He probably does.

"When were you here the last time?" she asks.

"I didn't go clubbing after you left."

It wasn't the same without her.

Tonight, the atmosphere is electric, though.

"Is this some sort of celebration?" I murmur, the loud music reaching my ears. "It's a big crowd. And it's not even eight o'clock," I drone on while she drags me to the biggest bar in the room.

People are already on the dance floor, shaking their bodies, enjoying themselves.

"Let's go get something to drink," she shouts in my ear.

"Easy, easy… There's no rush."

Half an hour later, we sit on a curved couch in the VIP area on the second floor with a bunch of strangers in the booth while bodyguards surveil the area.

This is all Chloe's making––having all these people at our table––yet she is right in a way.

It would look weird if we sat here alone.

It was either this or dancing downstairs.

I prefer this.

I'm on my second glass of wine while she smiles silly behind her cocktail.

"Who's running the club now?" I ask out of nowhere before sipping more wine and sliding my drink onto the table.

The man to my right flicks his eyes to me as I elbow him by mistake.

I murmur an apology while Chloe rolls her eyes without him seeing her.

"Stop doing that. You're gonna get us in trouble," I scold her under my breath, but nothing fazes her.

Nodding, she gives me an adorable smile.

"He's cute."

I inch closer to her.

"He's not cute. He's massive, and he looks like he could kill me," I retort.

"Girl, you've lost your touch. You used to like guys like him."

"Have you seen the last guy I was with?"

She gestures lazily.

"Yeah, yeah… I remember Klaus." She takes another drink. "I hated that guy," she adds, pushing back a hiccup.

My mouth falls open.

"Uh… What?"

"Yes."

"I've never heard that before."

She finds it so amusing she giggles hysterically.

" To his face. No. I never said it to his face."

She's comical, and we both laugh. And now the two men sitting next to us shift in their seats, paying more attention to us.

Exactly what we needed. Their eyes glisten with unsavory thoughts.

They're tipsy, and we're tipsy, and that's the recipe for disaster. Regardless of what Chloe has said about how much good a one-night stand could do to us, the men sitting next to us are bad news.

It's not like there's a criminal element to them, although never say never.It's just that I don't see myself stuffed under the big guy next to me.

He looks like a football player with his thick neck and wide shoulders. I've heard the average weight of a player his size is about two hundred fifty pounds. He's not sober either. Sex with him would be like getting railed by a freight train.

My delicate, fanciful top would stand no chance to his thick fingers.

Don't get me wrong, I love massive men.I've never had one, but I always wanted one, yet not someone like him.

My knees shake, and he hasn't even touched me.He probably wouldn't be able to come on top of me unless he was ready to take me to the emergency room.I'd probably be on all fours the entire night, with him pounding me from behind.

What is wrong with me?

But back to Klaus.

I didn't know Chloe hated him.

"Why did you hate him? It wasn't because of his looks."

"It's never about their looks." She rolls her eyes again. "He was not right for you," she says.

I smile and indulge in a sip of wine.

"No one is right for me these days."

"Not for what you want in general. But he might be the perfect guy for what you want tonight."

She slowly tilts her chin toward my neighbor when I realize he's eavesdropping on our conversation.

Embarrassment rams through me, a deep sense of shame set alight.

"Please don't listen to her. She has no idea what she's talking about," I say to him, and his gaze drops to my hand.

My fingers casually rest on his forearm.

"I wouldn't mind showing you how great I can be for you tonight."

I jerk my hand back, creeped out, before making faces at Chloe, who can't stop laughing.

Her reaction might only pour gasoline on the fire.

Right now, these dudes seem laid back, but that can change if she can't stop being the annoying chatterbox she usually is.

They could get pissed.

To prevent that from happening, I grab her by the elbow and tilt my chin to her drink.

"Pick it up, and let's go."

Like any tipsy person with a smidgen of willpower left in them, she fights me, laughing.

I eventually convince her to leave the booth, yet only after apologizing to the two men and making sure they're not following us downstairs.

Moments later, I shove her gently into a bar stool and ask the bartender to bring us two glasses of ice–cold water.

"Rough night?" he says, sliding two glasses of water across the counter.

Chloe's elbows are propped on the counter, her head leaning toward her hands as she looks at us with a funny expression on her face.

"Please leave him alone," I say.

The bartender smiles at me, gets the message, and moves away.

"You are horrible. Here, drink this," I say, pushing her cocktail to the side and the glass of water closer.

Surprisingly, she complies.

I drink the refreshing water and instantly feel much better.

"I'm sorry," she drawls.

"Oh. Please don't. We came here to get wasted and possibly laid. We've accomplished one of the two."

"Speaking of getting laid," she says as I set my water down.

Intrigued by the hint of soberness in her voice, I shift my eyes to her.

She stares at someone behind me.

"Isn't that Klaus?" she murmurs, narrowing her eyes at someone in the distance.

"What?"

She partly twists in her seat and points to someone across the dance floor.

"It's him, isn't it. Tall, lanky, wearing reading glasses… Is that…?"

This time, she straightens and shifts all the way as if her eyes work better if she faces Klaus and the woman walking next to him.

I swallow the rest of my drink first.

"That's my replacement," I say dryly.

"The woman you hand him down to."

"Precisely."

"Who is she?"

"I have no idea. A student? I told you she was at that party. She must be a student."

"You said he'd never met her before."

"I suspected he hadn't met her before," I murmur, my eyes on the petite woman.

Her hair is pulled into two buns atop her head, and she looks cute. It fits her.

I would never be able to pull off that look.

Her large pants and sequined top go well with her hairdo, while he looks casual in his slim fit pants and fitted top.

This is the most fashionable I've ever seen him, and I begin to wonder if we've ever been a good match.

He's never dressed up for me.

And yet… I thought we had something.

He loved watching documentaries about old archeological sites, and I thought we'd travel the world and make money blogging.

He wasn't into clubs or not wearing socks to make a bold fashion statement.

And now that he is, my evening is kind of ruined.

"Do you happen to know her name?" Chloe asks.

"No," I say and swivel in my seat, no longer wanting to talk about him.

It's only fitting to signal to the bartender and ask for a glass of hard liquor. Not a muscle moves on my face when Chloe's hand finds mine.

My dark expression registers with the bartender, who swiftly fulfills my order.

"Don't let Klaus get to you," she murmurs like she's never had a drop of alcohol in her blood all this time.

I get my drink and finish it in one gulp. With my head held back, my jaw locked, and a wince on my face.

I'd get a second drink, but I'm a lightweight when it comes to drinking, pretty much like Thea, and the last thing I want is to look like I've gotten wasted because of my ex and his new girl.

I told her that she could have him, and that particular moment was sad and funny at the same time.

Maybe Chloe was right.

Maybe they knew each other, and he'd cheated on me way before I found out they had the hots for each other.

"Do you know what Thea said after her first marriage unraveled?" I say quietly, my eyes pinned on the bar mirror.

People down their drinks, flirt, and have a good time.

It's like we live in two different worlds.

"She said a lot of stuff."

I flick my gaze to Chloe.

"After the whole thing was over, and she found out Nolan had slept with other women besides the one he was with when he left Thea… And there were other love stories, and more indiscretions. Even though she felt nothing for him at that point, she was still hurt. Because that's the thing. It still hurts, and you feel guilty for everything that happens, as if it's your fault. It's the worst."

"Are you talking about yourself now?"

"I'm talking about both. The thing that stuck with me was that when the dust settled, the whole thing was supposed to be a lesson for her, but was it really? How much of what he'd done to her helped her in the long run?"

"It helped her a lot. She met Ed."

"Yeah, she did…"

I push my gaze down and keep it there for a second.

"More than anything, it was luck," I continue. "It had nothing to do with what she'd learned from him. That's what I'm saying. We're wasting our time with these men and learning something, maybe… And then we luck out and find someone else. Quiet often, we don't. So, in the end, they don't make us any better. Not to mention the ugly things we're dealing with in the aftermath."

"They don't make us any better, but the experience is priceless. Transformative. Look at it this way. You wouldn't be here with me if it wasn't for Klaus being a dick. The same goes for Thea. We wouldn't have dragged her to this club and helped her meet Ed Preston if it wasn't for her cheating ex."

"It was fate."

"Fate. Whatever. Did it work? Yes, it did," she says, and I smile.

Chloe refuses my pessimistic view on these things, which makes me appreciate her even more.

"So… Who's running the club right now?" I toss at her again.

She reaches inside her pocket.

"Give me a minute. We'll find out."

She swipes her phone and searches for that specific information online while I stare at her, my mind blank.

"Uh…"

She slides her fingers over the screen, enlarging a picture.

"Damn, this man knows how to rock a suit."

My eyes dip, yet her gaze goes up when she flips her phone over so I can see the picture.

"It's your friend. David Moore."