The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(17)

“That’s what we always think when something new and fresh and exciting starts. But the dickhead showed what he was really about, and we hate him for it.” I twisted a chunk of her long brown hair around my fingers. “If there’s a silver lining, it’s that he showed his dickish side six months in rather than a year. Could you imagine how much we’d have hated him then?”

She looked at me, all doe-eyed. “I don’t hate him any less.”

“Of course you don’t, but it’s my job to find a positive in this situation, and that’s the only one I can find.” I cupped her cheek, wiping away the mascara. “Other than the fact that your future son won’t have that dreaded dimple, like Trevor’s.”

She exhaled, her breath quivering from crying. “But I loved that dimple.” The tears started to flow a lot heavier. “Am I not worth it? Am I asking too much?” She sucked in a breath. “Am I a nut to think that some perfect guy is going to sweep me off my feet, someone worthy of taking my virginity? Maybe I should just have sex with some random stranger—”

“No.” I shook my head. “No, no. And hell nooo.” I handed her the bottle of wine since she hadn’t taken out any glasses and waited for her to take several gulps. “You’ve gone this long; you’re not going to give it up to some selfish, undeserving stranger who won’t take care of you in all the ways that you need.”

And then there was Declan, who was mostly a stranger and had cared for me in every single way.

That man … my God.

“I mean, I’ve done stuff with Trevor—”

“He’s Dickhead now,” I corrected her. “We don’t use the T-word.”

She attempted a smile. “Right. Dickhead. It’s not like I left him miserable and unfulfilled. He got stuff; he just didn’t get that.”

She’d set down the bottle, but I lifted it again, taking a swig, and then I held it toward her lips.

“Drink.” Once she did, I continued, “Babe, in all honesty, it wouldn’t have mattered how many times you’d sucked Dickhead’s dick; he wouldn’t have been happy until he got you. So, somehow, we’re going to have to move on and forget Dickhead ever lived.”

She wasn’t convinced.

She wouldn’t be.

She needed time to get over the hurt and betrayal, but I would do everything in my power to reinforce how special my best friend was and how unworthy Dickhead was.

“It wasn’t even that good of a dick,” she admitted. “You know, compared to the ones I’ve seen in porn.”

I laughed. “Another reason Dickhead sucks. Fuck him.”

Her cheeks blushed. “Yep. Fuck him.”

“Brownies?”

She nodded. “Please.”

I went into the kitchen and grabbed the pan out of the oven along with two forks from a drawer and returned to the living room, handing her a utensil. Both of us immediately dug in.

With a mouthful, I suggested, “Let’s go out and get completely shit-faced and then stop by Anthony’s Pizzeria and get slices of the best pizza in the world. How does that sound?”

She wiped off a smear of caramel from her lip. “I have work in the morning.”

“When has that ever stopped us from getting hammered?”

“Solid point.”

“And you’ve been working from home lately anyway, so there’s no need for you to even go into the office tomorrow morning.”

She finally gave me a real Oaklyn smile. One that was full of beautiful, straight white teeth. “You’re such a lawyer.”

“I’m not one of those yet, but I will be a damn good one when the time comes.” I pointed toward our bedrooms. “Go put on something über-sexy and throw on a layer of lip gloss and mascara, and let’s tear up this town.”

She lifted a huge brownie from the pan and set it in her hand as she stood from the couch. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

“Hold up.” I paused, waiting for her to stop walking and turn toward me. “Before we go out, you’re blocking Dick on every social media account and deleting him from your Contacts. There will be no drunk texting, IGing, DMing, tweeting, TikToking, Snapping, or calling him tonight. Do you hear me?”

She wasn’t vindictive, she didn’t hold grudges, and she was far too forgiving. If a mosquito bit her, she wouldn’t even swat it.

Oaklyn was an angel, the calm in our relationship.

I was the storm.

“Yesss. I hear you.”

I held out my palm. “Give me your phone. I’ll do it while you’re getting ready.”

She reluctantly handed me her cell, and while she went to her room, I entered her password and went to work, starting with her social media apps. I was halfway through the folder on her phone when I felt a vibration. I’d set my cell on the couch beside me, and on the screen, I saw there was a text from Madison, one of the students who had gone to tonight’s meetup with Declan. The text had been sent to all six of the top performers, and half of them had already responded to what she’d written.

Madison



Look who I’m with





Instead of a period at the end of her caption, there was a fire emoji.

And underneath her words was a photo that made everything inside me start to shake. It was of her and Declan, their faces close, almost cheek to cheek, smiling into the camera as she snapped a selfie. I couldn’t tell which bar they were at—they all looked the same in that area—but they were certainly out.