No Weddings (No Weddings #1)(15)

My lips curled into a sneer. “Yes, I do.”

“Fine. Want to tell me what this is?” She held up the slip of paper, like she’d found incriminating evidence.

“You know what it is.” She’d always known. All my girls did. That was the deal. If they wanted some of me, they agreed to be one of a handful of girls who I had a good time with. No commitments. No attachments. Only fun. To play, they had to understand and subscribe to the rules.

“There are nine names with numbers on this list.” She held the thing high in the air, then flipped it over with a flick of her wrist for the silent jury of four in the room to see.

I didn’t glance up at her stolen prize. I glared at her as I held her eyes. “Eight.”

She tossed the thing at me. It hit my chest and fell into my lap. “Nine. I counted. Twice.”

“There were nine.” My voice remained calm, lowered. “Now there are eight.”

With a heavy blink, recognition wiped the smug look off her face. In an instant, tears welled in her eyes. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. Now, get out. You should’ve heeded Ben’s warning.”

Trust didn’t come easy to me. Not one of those nine knew the depths of betrayal I’d survived. The list existed for a reason. When I needed reliable therapy, they provided. Every one of them knew the score, and all had agreed to it. In fact, they didn’t make the cut in the first place unless they’d expressed a need for the same, unprompted by me.

But when things changed, smart people rolled with the punches. Women, the more sensitive of our species, let their emotions overrule their brains. There was enough blame to go around though; maybe I’d been asleep at the wheel and hadn’t noticed subtle changes, possessive warning signs.

Enraged, Carmen tore my shirt off her body and threw it across the living room, growling in frustration. Naked from the waist up, she made a bouncing spectacle of herself as she ran off. I heard several thuds, imagining objects being tossed around in my bedroom while she found her scattered pieces of clothing.

My gaze fell to the list in my lap. I picked it up, examining it. Four on one side, five on the other. Nine reliable (and quite spectacular) f*ck buddies who’d agreed to a good time with no strings attached. Now there were eight.

A flash of movement blurred by, followed by the slam of our front door.

As pictures rattled on the walls of our entry hall, I stood. “Yeah, I’m done. Hope I didn’t ruin game night.” Walking out of the room, I sighed.

Mase called out from behind me, “Nah, man. It’s all good.”

On a detour through the kitchen, I grabbed two more bottles and headed back to my room. My mind felt smothered. I slowly closed my door, unable to feel anything more than tired, the anger somehow dissipating out of me.

Chugging down half of one bottle, I placed the other on my nightstand. I held the list between two fingers and swiped my cell phone off my desk before falling back onto the bed.

Apathy hadn’t created the list. Indifference hadn’t been at play then—self-preservation had. Superficial pleasure helped bury the pain. Had the rules of the game changed? Maybe. Perhaps enough time had passed for me to reassess what the f*ck I’d been doing with my life.

For a couple of years, I’d been going through the motions, but I hadn’t been living. Hadn’t wanted to. Stay busy enough and reality doesn’t look as dark. Focus on all the shiny so you don’t see the grime underneath.

In a sudden cleansing moment, I needed to find out where the rest of the girls stood. I wasn’t ready to ditch the list altogether, but I didn’t want a repeat of tonight’s unnecessary drama. If the girls wanted physical release when the occasion warranted, we were still on the same page, or rather, they were still on the yellow sticky note. Otherwise, a culling of the list would begin.

Decided, I clicked the control button on my phone. Nothing happened. I furrowed my brow as I held the power button down to reboot. I vaguely remembered hitting random buttons hours earlier, trying to mute texts chirping in from Ben while Carmen and I were finding our mutual release.

When the phone flared back to life, I entered my passcode and stared at the apps. Yeah, I saw the irony right there in my hand; I could’ve hidden those girls behind a locked screen in my phone.

Maybe on paper, the list had served as a booby trap for the untrustworthy girl. Carmen certainly failed that test. Or maybe, on a subconscious level, I’d wanted to sabotage my happy, shallow escape.

Before I gave more ammunition to my self-deprecation, my focus got stuck on my phone app. A number three appeared in the red alert circle. When I touched the app, it showed two missed calls from a number I didn’t recognize and one voicemail, none of which had been there when I’d last checked hours ago.

Unthinking, I clicked on the voicemail.



“Hello, Cade. I read your agreements. The terms aren’t equitable to both parties. Expect a counter offer. It will be delivered by 5:00 p.m. tomorrow, per the deadline still in writing in your contract.”



After the second replay of Hannah’s message, I grinned. The Ice Queen was back, but the ball was still in play.

And the list?

Long forgotten.





Monday afternoon, I left campus at 3:50 p.m. and had plenty of time to grab a bite at home before heading over to Sweet Dreams, and yet, I ate nothing. For some stupid reason, I was nervous before our business meeting. Although Invitation Only’s concept had been Kristen’s idea after the renovation of her barn, and therefore her baby to take the lead on, I made it clear to her that the follow-up meeting was mine once Hannah had agreed to negotiate. Kristen agreed, wisely leaving the negotiations in my capable hands.