The Wrong Right Man(41)

“Sorry, I shouldn’t ask. I mean, it’s not my business.”

I wet my lips, unsure what to say. I want to be honest with her, because her question is something a friend would ask, but a part of me wants to keep the information to myself until I know where he and I are headed.

“I don’t know,” I say quietly. It’s been days since I’ve spoken to him. Not that he hasn’t attempted to contact me. I’ve just been working hard at ignoring his calls, texts, and e-mails, wanting time to try to figure out my feelings without his overwhelming presence interfering. I’ve figured out that I miss him and have even been grateful for his persistence during this time. It’s made me feel like he hasn’t forgotten me, like what we’ve shared is important to him, like I’m important to him.

“The night we met, I had no idea who he was.” I set down my curler and pick up my glass of wine. “He lied to me. I was supposed to meet a blind date. I thought he was the guy and approached him, and instead of telling me he was the wrong man, he told me he was my date.”

“Shut up,” she whisper-hisses, and I shake my head with a giggle, like Jamie finding the humor in the situation now that I’m no longer angry about it.

“We went out and one thing led to another, and he stayed the night.”

Her eyes are wide with horror. “Let me guess—you found out he lied the next morning.”

I nod. “I found out he lied and lost my mind. Then later, I found out exactly who he is when I ran into him at the office. And since then, things between us have been complicated.”

“I hate to tell you this, but it sounds like it’s always been complicated.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” I sigh, turning back to the mirror.

“Do you like him?”

“When he’s not making me mad or doing things that make me crazy, I really like him. I’ve never met a man like him before. He’s funny, sweet, and really kind, but he can also be pompous, demanding, and infuriating.”

“Hot.” She grins then continues, “And let’s not forget gorgeous and sexy.”

“We can’t forget that.” I laugh.

“Well, I think you guys look cute together, and I don’t know him or what he’s like, but I’ve dated a lot, and I can tell you that not once did a guy show up where I was because he wanted to spend time with me. Really, most of the men I’ve dated would be happy if I decided to go out with friends, so they could have some time alone or time to do whatever they wanted to do… including another girl.”

I blink at her in surprise. She’s gorgeous, with thick dark hair, big blue eyes, full lips, and a body even the Kardashians with all their money would envy.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She shakes her head. “Dating nowadays is a joke. Everyone is looking for their next conquest, and I have yet to meet a man who is even a little interested in something serious.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. I mean a guy might say they are looking for a serious relationship on their dating profile, but at the end of the night, all they want is a quick fuck or a low-maintenance fuck buddy.” She eyes me with disbelief. “Don’t tell me you don’t know that.”

“I’ve only really been with two guys, my ex-fiancé and Braxton.”

“Count yourself lucky. You’ve found two guys who want to commit while most of us can’t even find one.”

“I’m not that lucky, my ex fiancé cheated on me and I found out when I was in the middle of planning our wedding.”

Her expression softens. “I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “Me too, but I’m glad I found out before we actually got married or had kids.”

“True,” she agrees, the happy energy from earlier turning somber.

I shake my head. “Enough of that. Tonight is about having fun.”

“Yeeesss, I need some fun.” She holds up her glass, and I tap mine to hers then down the rest of my wine. We finish our hair and makeup then get dressed, me in a pair of ripped jeans and a sheer black top over my black bra with my leather jacket and pumps, and her in a skin-tight, off-the-shoulder black dress and thigh-high boots with a long black trench. We jump in a cab and head across town, and then because my brother and his band are performing, we walk in past the line of people who are waiting to get inside.

The moment we enter the bar, I latch onto Samantha’s hand as the energy of the crowd, lights, and music seeps into my system. I’m sure to someone like my brother who lives off the high, it makes him feel alive, but for me, it’s just overwhelming.

I lead Samantha to the bar, needing a drink, and it only takes a couple seconds for one of the bartenders to recognize me and come over. We both shout our orders, and moments later, we’re heading toward the stage with our drinks. The opening act is performing, so I signal for Samantha to follow me backstage, and as soon as the bouncer lets us back, the sound is drowned out and I can hear myself think again.

We walk down the dim hallway toward the room where I know my brother and his band will be ignoring the catty looks from the groupies who are waiting, hoping to be seen. When we get to the door, I don’t knock; I push right in and want to laugh. You would think the guys would be surrounded by women, hooking up, or getting high, but instead, they are all sitting in front of a large TV, playing some video game, and egging each other on while drinking from a bottle of Jack.