Junk Mail(42)

Normally, that joke would get at least a pity laugh out of me, but not right now. Instead, I just swirl the champagne in my glass, watching the bubbles pop and disappear. “I don’t know. I’m just . . . sad? Pissed? Is there a word for that?”

“Sissed?” Libby suggests.

This gets a laugh out of all three of us. Then out of the blue, Sabrina’s giggles come to an abrupt stop and the color quickly drains from her cheeks.

“You okay, Sabrina?”

She doesn’t respond to me. Instead, she tugs on Libby’s sleeve and whispers something in her ear, and suddenly, both of them look like a ghost just walked into the bar.

“Hey, Peyton? Can you pull up that picture of Josh? The one you showed us on the company website after your first meeting?”

Skeptical, I lift one eyebrow. “Um, sure? Why?”

I don’t know what’s gotten into them, but they’re insistent on me pulling up his head shot, so I type in the website and hand them the phone. They huddle together to examine the picture, then look back up over my shoulder, then down at the screen again.

“Um, guys?” I try again. “Everything okay?”

“Depends,” Libby whispers, drawing out the word cautiously. “Were you expecting Josh to show up here tonight?”

My stomach drops to my knees. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“She’s talking about the fact that Mr. Left You on Read for Two Weeks is standing at the bar,” Sabrina says. “Does he know that this is our spot?”

My head starts to spin with memories of telling Josh about girls’ nights at Speakeasy. Did he actually remember, or is he just here by accident? Either way, they’ve got to be having a joint hallucination. There’s no way in hell this is happening to me right now.

“Are you sure it’s not just a doppelganger?” I ask, my voice dripping with desperation.

Libby shakes her head. “I would recognize that jawline anywhere.”

“And damn, he’s hot as fuck.” Sabrina’s lips pinch together. “Sorry. I realize that was poorly timed.”

I suck in a deep breath, chasing it with the rest of my champagne. “All right. I’m gonna look.”

With as much subtlety as I can manage, I glance over my shoulder and immediately lock eyes with him. He’s wearing the same suit jacket he had on when we pitched to the stores upstate. Underneath it is a bright blue shirt that makes his eyes absolutely sparkle.

Screw him for looking so damn handsome.

He’s leaning against the bar, martini glass in hand, but whatever he’s drinking doesn’t hold his attention. By the way he’s staring me down, his focus isn’t on drinking tonight.

“Yup, that’s him.” My heart is threatening to leap into my throat. “What do I do?”

“Go talk to him,” Sabrina and Libby say in unison.

Like it’s that easy. I want to bury my face in my hands, but I don’t want that asshole to see how much he’s messed with my head. He doesn’t deserve that kind of power trip. Not tonight when I’m supposed to be celebrating.

“What am I even supposed to say? ‘Fuck you very much for completely ghosting on me’?”

Panic flickers in Libby’s eyes. “Whatever you want to say, you’d better think fast. He’s walking this way.”

Next thing I know, I can feel a presence towering behind me, the familiar smell of a summer storm, although fall is nearly over. It’s him. I guess there’s no escaping now.

“Good evening, ladies,” Josh says, his voice low and as sweet as the breeze. I hate that it sends goose bumps climbing up my arms. “You must be Sabrina and Libby. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Josh, one of Peyton’s business partners.”

Is that all we are? Because it felt like a fuck of a lot more when he was inside me. I hold my breath, trying to suffocate the butterflies in my stomach.

“We know who you are,” Libby murmurs through pursed lips, earning her a swat on the arm from Sabrina.

“Do you mind if I steal Peyton for a moment? I don’t mean to interrupt your evening, because I’m sure you must be celebrating Peyton’s success.”

“Steal me?” I blurt out, jumping to my feet and whirling to face him. “Why are you even here? You’re the one who’s been avoiding me like the freaking plague.”

I’m not usually one to lash out like this. Maybe it’s the champagne or the heartbreak, or a mixture of both. But, seriously, unless he’s here to beg for forgiveness, I have nothing to say to him right now. Actually, I have a lot to say to him, but none of it is very ladylike.

By the way Josh wrinkles his forehead, he clearly didn’t mean it as a joke. “Things have just been complicated.”

“That is such a line,” I snap. “You’re exactly like every other douchebag I’ve dated before. You only wanted me to think you were sweet and sensitive so you could sleep with me and then bail.”

“Peyton, please. Listen to me.” He’s speaking under his breath, trying to avoid drawing any more attention from the bar than we already have. “Listen, I don’t know what Brody told you, but I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

I fist my hands, praying he can’t hear the quiver in my voice as well as I can. “Brody made it quite clear you wanted nothing to do with me. And if that’s what it means to keep it professional, then you’re not nearly as business savvy as you pretend to be.”