About Last Night (About Last Night #1)(62)

I blinked away my own tears. “I know, sweetie. I know.”

“I thought he liked me.”

“I know,” I repeated.

Her voice quieted and her face turned pained. “He called me a piglet.”

“Oh, sweetie.” My heart ached for her. “The guy was an *. But most *s can be very charming.”

She scoffed, her eyes wide. “You’re telling me.”

A small smile pulled at my lips. “The bartender liked you.”

She sighed. “Yeah, well, I screwed that up too.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.” Pulling her inside, I shut the door behind us and led her into the kitchen, taking the piece of paper from the top of the fridge and handing it to her. “He asked me to give you this, but I knew you weren’t up for it the other night.”

Her pretty eyes narrowed in confusion. She unfolded the paper and read silently.

Eyes wide, I shook her arm and asked excitedly, “What does it say?” I was dying to know. Having held that damn paper for two days and not reading it was absolute torture.

Her brow rose. “You didn’t read it?”

“No!” I shook her again. “Tell me!”

A small smile graced her face. “It says…” her breath caught, “…You’re worth more.” She folded the paper and stuck it in her back pocket, emotionless.

I blinked. “That’s it?”

She nodded. “That’s it.”

“No number?”

She shook her head slowly. “No number.”

I stayed silent a second before I burst out an outraged, “That’s bullshit!”

She chuckled humorlessly. “Do you blame him? I went to the bar he works at, shamelessly hit on him, and then didn’t wait ten minutes to screw a guy I barely knew in a dirty restroom.” She lowered her face, ashamed. “That kind of thing doesn’t scream she’s the one.”

I rested my hand on her shoulder. “You made a mistake. Everyone does, Ella. People learn from their mistakes. I know you have.”

She nodded and uttered an unfeeling, “Sure.”

My eyes narrowed as I thought hard about something, anything that would cheer her up. My lips spread into a smile as I took her hand and threw open the apartment door. Walking across the hall, I knocked on the door opposite mine.

Ella asked guardedly, “Uh, what are we doing?”

The door flew open and Terry stood there, a headband holding his hair back, his face covered in white goop. He looked at the two of us and gasped happily, “Girls’ night!” Leaving us in the doorway, he rushed down the hall, calling back, “Well, what are you waiting for? Get inside, bitches!”

We got inside. Terry masked us up as Bill topped off our wine glasses. By the end of the night, Ella was laughing freely at something Bill had said, not an ounce of despair etched in her features. I smiled thankfully over at Terry. As he walked past me, he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

Friends like these were hard to find.

How’d I get so lucky?




It was close to one a.m. and Ella had left just minutes earlier. I kissed the guys on the cheeks, thanking them for their incomparable hospitality, and made my way home.

My bed was calling my name. It had been a busy day. And night. I slid under the covers, not bothering to change my clothes. Just as I began falling asleep, my phone vibrated on the nightstand, next to the bowl of forgotten cereal.

I reached out for it and unlocked the screen. My brow slacked and my mouth gaped. Twenty-two missed calls. Eight messages. What on earth?

Every missed call was from Quinn. So were the messages.

Quinn: Where are you?

Quinn: Mia, where’d you go?

Quinn: You seriously snuck out while I was asleep? Shit, Mia. You’re a walking cliché!

Quinn: Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

Quinn: You’re freaking me out now. Pls call me when you get this.

Quinn: I’ve got work in an hour. Call me.

Quinn: MIA! PICK UP!!!

Quinn: I’m not even kidding. I’m going to call your brother to see if he’s heard from you.

My stomach sank with dread. Oh God. I was in so much trouble. I quickly dialed, holding the phone to my ear. The phone rang once. He answered with a booming, “Where were you?”

“I—” But I was cut off.

“Shit. I’ve been going out of my mind with worry! First, you snuck out like a thief in the night.” I winced. “Then you don’t answer your phone when I call. Fuck, I called in sick because I was so worried that something had happened to you.” I winced harder. “I was just about to call your brother! Where the f*ck were you?”

Oh, shit. He was angry.

Not angry. But angry.

Something told me honesty was my best option. “I’m so sorry, Quinn. It’s just…you looked like you needed the sleep, so I left and caught the bus home. I was home most of the night, but then my work friend Ella came by, which was actually great, because I was so worried about her after some drama the other night, and she was avoiding my calls.” He snorted and I knew he was thinking, That last part sounds familiar. I quickly went on, rushing out, “And she was so sad that I wanted to do something to cheer her up, so I took her across the hall to Bill and Terry’s, where we did facials, drank expensive wine, and watched TV.” I blew out a breath. “I just came home now. I left my phone at home.”