Life's Too Short (The Friend Zone #3)(63)

Me: Do you still want me to watch Grace tonight?



Another four-minute wait.

Vanessa: You don’t have to.

Me: I want to.

Vanessa: K. Do you want me to get Harry?



I thought this one over. She always watched him for me, but it would be weird if I saw her and we didn’t talk, and I didn’t have time to do it before work. I didn’t want to be rushed, especially considering what we needed to discuss.

Me: I’ll take him to work.

Vanessa: K



That was it. She didn’t say anything else.

Harry was crabbier than usual, like we were sharing our mood. He bit Becky three times by noon. Oddly enough he didn’t bite me, which made me feel like maybe we were on the same team for once. He slept in my lap while I worked at my desk and didn’t even growl at me when I moved him to get up to use the bathroom.

Work dragged. I kept checking my phone to see if Vanessa had messaged me, which she didn’t. I left work early to knock on Vanessa’s door thirty minutes before she’d asked me to come so I could talk to her. I figured if she really regretted kissing me, the best I could hope for was for us to get over any weirdness and stay friends. But I guessed by her silence that the chances of that were probably low.

I felt a gnawing anxiety at the uncertainty of it. A panic at the possibility that this was all over.

I heard her chain rake across the lock, and I braced myself for our first encounter since last night. But when the door opened, it wasn’t Vanessa who answered it. It was…some guy?

He stood in the doorway holding Grace. He was shorter than me but muscular. Shaggy blond hair, tan skin. He was wearing a clunky faux fur jacket that came to his knees. It was open and he had no shirt on. A shark-tooth necklace hung around his neck.

“Hey,” he said. “You must be the babysitter. Come in.” He spoke over his shoulder. “Hey, butterfly, your sitter’s here.”

I was frozen where I stood. Rendered completely mute.

“She just had a bottle,” he said, handing me the baby. “I changed her diaper. She should be good for a bit.”

I let him put Grace in my arms right there, still standing in the doorway.

She was swaddled. It wasn’t Vanessa’s handiwork. The blanket was twisted into some weird intricate knot. He saw me looking at it and he nodded at her. “It’s an old Aboriginal wrapping method. A medicine woman taught me.”

An Aboriginal wrapping—

Who the fuck was this? What the hell was going on?

And then Vanessa came up behind him and the whole thing went from bad to worse.

She took the breath right out of my lungs. Her makeup was done and she wore a fitted burgundy dress and heels. Her hair was down and curled. She was stunning.

She was going-on-a-date stunning.

“Hey, come on in,” she said distractedly, fiddling with an earring she was putting in—or trying to. Her fingers were fumbling. She nodded at the guy. “This is Drake. Drake, Adrian.” She dropped the diamond stud and made an impatient huffing noise as she knelt to pick it up.

“Here, let me help you,” Drake said, putting his hand out.

She handed the earring to him and stood still while he got closer to put it in, tipping her head to the side.

“You look nice, butterfly,” he said, his voice low.

She gave him a flirty sideways smile. “Thanks. So do you.”

Hot, thick jealousy ripped through me. There was something familiar about the way he touched her. Like he’d done it before.

As soon as he was done with her earring, she pivoted to grab a small purse.

“Hey, I know we’re supposed to talk, but can we do it after?” she said to me, putting on her coat. “Drake and I need to get going. We’ll be at Vermilion.”

I wrinkled my forehead. “Vermilion? They’re not open on Mondays—”

“He bought out the restaurant.”

He bought out the—

???

“Hey, thanks for watching Grace,” she said. “She’ll probably sleep for a bit. I’ll be home by eight.”

Then she edged past me out the door with Drake trailing behind her and was gone.

He never put on a shirt.

What. The. FUCK.

Who the fuck was Drake? And why was he taking her to Vermilion? I wanted to take her to Vermilion!

I looked around her apartment, holding the baby, feeling whiplashed.

The room still smelled like Vanessa’s perfume. There were dresses on her bed. Lots of them. And shoes all over the floor. It looked like she’d tried on her whole damn closet. It was a studio. Did she try them on with him sitting there watching? What the hell?

I pulled out my phone and called Becky. She answered on the first ring. “’Sup, boss?” She popped a bubble in my ear.

“Do you know somebody named Drake? Does Vanessa ever talk about him?”

The line went silent, and I thought I lost the call. “Why?” she said ominously.

“Vanessa’s out with him—”

“You let her go out with Drake? Oh my God. Oh. My. God.” She let out a shaky breath. “Okay, this is going to be okay. Adrian, this is very important. When you saw him was he wearing a shirt?”

“What?”

“A shirt! Did he have a shirt on?!”