After Dark (The Night Owl Trilogy #3)(13)

I approached her table and she blinked up at me.

“Hi,” I said.

“Oh, hey.” Her face relaxed into a smile.

“Could we talk for a moment? I’m expecting someone, but—”

“Of course.” Her eyes swept my left hand. No engagement ring, still.

“Thanks.” I took a seat across from her, fiddling with my phone and trying to organize my thoughts. I had ten minutes, more or less, to grill her about Matt. Where to start? “Um … sorry to interrupt your lunch…” I gave a meaningful pause.

“Katie,” she said.

“Katie. Thanks. I can’t stop thinking about what you said last week. About Matt and…” I forced a laugh. “The weird stuff he’s into?”

Katie’s brow rumpled. Her smile tightened and she took a sip from her drink.

I hadn’t ordered any lunch; Chrissy’s news had killed my appetite.

“I probably shouldn’t have said anything,” Katie murmured. “I thought you knew.”

“Is your friend who dated Matt … Bethany Meres?”

She nodded.

I dug my fingers into the edge of the table. Stay calm. Milk this stranger for info. Then forget about her forever.

“I know you must hate her,” Katie said. “That’s understandable, but she’s not the witch that book makes her out to be.”

“I just want to talk about the ‘weird stuff.’ I know Matt’s a little kinky.” My face heated and I lowered my voice. “I think anyone who’s read Night Owl knows that.”

“It’s more than that.”

“Could you tell me?”

“I don’t even know if it’s true.” She chewed on her straw. “Beth’s pretty bitter about how things went down with Matt. Maybe she’s mouthing off, you know? I wouldn’t worry about it. You two seem really happy, and I—”

“Please, just tell me.”

Katie swallowed and stared at the top of her soda cup.

“Okay. She said he went … too far sometimes. Wouldn’t stop when she asked, got too rough. Like he’d hit her when they were, you know. And he…”

I leaned forward, willing my posture to relax. She might stop talking if I looked too tense, and I felt poised to snap.

“Go on.”

“I guess he wanted to do things she didn’t want. He’d get angry about it.”

“Like what?”

“Weird stuff. Too crazy for Beth.”

“Come on.” I gave a feathery laugh. “Like … threesomes?”

“God, no.” Katie smirked. “That’s tame.”

“Uh, true…” I shrank in my chair.

“He wanted to do some really hardcore stuff with her. Think whips.”

Whips? I searched for any memory of Matt mentioning whips. He’d mentioned riding crops, half-jokingly, and plugs … and last fall he took a belt to my bottom. Nothing about whips, though. Katie was right. Whips definitely fell under the “hardcore stuff” category.

An image surfaced in my mind: Matt standing at the foot of our bed, shirtless, a whip coiled in his hand.

Scary, or hot? I clenched my thighs beneath the table. Both.

“Whips,” I repeated dumbly.

“Crazy, right?” Katie yawned and covered her mouth, which was lined with pale pink lipstick. She looked perfectly put-together—the type of girl I always envied—hair straightened and highlighted, designer clothes, flawless makeup.

I was about to ask what other “really hardcore stuff” Bethany had mentioned when a pale-faced Chrissy touched my shoulder.

I jumped in my chair.

“Oh, hey.” I stood, but curiosity tethered me to the table. “Sorry, Katie, I have to go. Could we maybe talk again sometime?”

“Well, we seem to keep bumping into one another.”

“Yeah. Maybe we could—” Get drinks this weekend, I wanted to say, and talk more. Was that too forward? I couldn’t tell what sounded normal right now. Visions of whips and Matt filled my mind. Rough sex, the way we liked it. The fine line between pleasure and pain. Passing that line, obliterating it.

“I need to sit down,” Chrissy said. She moved away and I lingered.

“I hope I see you again,” I said to Katie. “I’d like that.”

Katie smiled and nodded.

Too rough … he’d hit her … whips.

My thoughts swirled as I took a seat across from my sister.

The things Katie said hadn’t frightened me. If anything, I missed Matt and I wanted to hold him and remember how real he felt. I had hurt him last night when I questioned our engagement. God, how stupid could I be? First he had cold feet, now it was my turn.

“Thanks for coming,” I said to Chrissy. “You look better today.”

She did look better, but only because she was wearing real clothes—a loose gray T-shirt dress and flip-flops. Her hair was growing out, the black mop stiff with product, and silver hoops lined her ears. She lit a cigarette. I snatched it from her fingers and put it out.

“What the hell?” she growled.

“Uh, you’re pregnant?”

“Yeah, like I f*cking forgot.” Chrissy rolled her eyes and started to light another.