Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)(59)

Monica laughs. “We’re going to Josh’s parents for the week, gotta practice.”

We all laugh at the double life they’ll have to lead before the wedding. They’ve agreed to keep separate apartments until the big

day, but the rest of their private life is top secret around Josh’s conservative parents. They nearly keeled over when he decided

to move to the Cape and manage a bar. His business sense is sharp, though, and he single-handedly saved Finnegan’s from going

under.

“So,” Josh interjects, running his hand through his sandy-brown hair, “does this mean you and Bo will stop being so shitty to

each other?” The question takes me by surprise, and I furrow my brow at him.

“Oh come on, Ember ...” Monica rolls her eyes.

“I’m not with Adrian to hurt Bo, guys.”

“Well, it hurts him. And after Regan told you Bo and Ainsley don’t really seem to be together ...” Monica leads.

“What? Is he using her to hurt me?”

Josh senses an argument and raises his hands. “Ladies...we all know Bo wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt Ember. I’ve seen him

talk about her; it’s just not possible. But, guys don’t think straight—”

“Ever,” I cut in.

“No, smart ass, guys don’t think straight when they’re heartbroken. You women chop off and dye your hair, curling up on your

best friend’s lap to cry for days.” Monica and I stare at each other, on the brink of hysteria regarding his accuracy. “Guys,”

he continues, “we just want the hurt to go away. I’ll reference my drunken showdown with you, Ember, as an example of not

thinking straight.”

I mull over Josh’s words and think about Regan not having seen Ainsley and Bo together. I begin to wonder if Bo thinks I’m with

Adrian to hurt him.

“Take the blackmail out of the equation completely.” Monica leans forward and touches my knee. “Would you have ever second-

guessed your relationship with Bo for another go ‘round with Adrian Turner? I mean, Turner’s fine as hell—”

“Nice, Monica,” Josh chuckles.

“Seriously, is he anything more than walking sex?” Her eyebrows shoot up.

“Wow. Tell me how you really feel, Mon.” I stand and bring my coffee mug to the kitchen.

“I already did,” she shouts, reminding me she thinks I’ve royally screwed myself.

I pause at the sink, sick with the realization that a sane person doesn’t take care of a drunken ex-boyfriend while their current

boyfriend wanders up and down the beach.

“I’ve gotta get to Boston.” I sigh and walk to the door.

“By the way, Asshole,” Monica walks over to me and smacks my arm, “I googled your parents after the night of the Coldplay

concert. You and I are going to have a serious discussion.”

“Way to hold out on us, Ember.” Josh fakes annoyance as I leave.



*



After the longest drive to Boston in my life, I’m standing at the private entrance of The W, filled with dread. Adrian’s going to

want answers and I don’t know if I have them. Why did I carry Bo out of a bar when he was doing a perfectly fine job of drowning

his sorrows? Why did I insist my ex-boyfriend stay at my house when Regan offered his? Why, for the love of God, why did I walk

away from Adrian last night when he headed down the beach? I have the answers...there’s only one answer.

My body has been rejecting my actions with Adrian for weeks. I’ve lost weight, I can’t sleep, and I walk around with a solid knot

in my gut most days. I’ve lied to my friends, my family, and myself. And for what? Because I was pissed off a few weeks ago? My

spirit has become a complete disaster, a junkie tapping its veins for the release Adrian Turner provides.

“Ms. Harris.” The doorman nods and I force a tight smile, mouth closed so I don’t throw up all over his nice suit.

“Thank you,” I whisper through my clenched teeth.

With trembling knees, I knock on Adrian’s door. It swings open freely. Adrian doesn’t look at me as he motions me in.

“Hi.” I jump with the slam of the door behind me.

“You came.” With a dead tone, he leans against the door, crossing his arms and ankles.

“You’re kidding,” I punch up the sarcasm. “You don’t answer my calls all night, then tell me your brother drove all the way

from Boston to pick you up. Then,” I stand toe-to-toe with him at the door, “you barge into my apartment and demand that I choose

between the two of you? What does that even mean?” I can’t let Adrian know how I’m feeling until I get some answers about last

night. His face doesn’t change.

“I saw you watching him play. You were in your own world. Damn, Ember, you jumped three feet in a crowded bar when I came up

behind you.” He slides past me and paces thoughtfully toward the expansive window.

“It’s music, Adrian, I’m always lost in it.” I shoulder next to him with a whisper as we watch the busy city below.

“You should have seen your face when he started playing that song. It was like someone punched you right in the gut.”