Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
She looks even more puzzled now. “I don’t know if or when I’ll be ready to give things a try. Surely, you don’t want to wait around for me?”
“You can’t deny how good we all are together,” Dante says.
“There’s no shortage of women at Club Red,” I add, “and we want you, Lorraine. We want you.”
Her eyes widen before she drops her head into her hands as though she’s pained, or exasperated, or both.
“What do you say?” Dante asks.
“The door isn’t closed,” she finally says when she looks up again. “Just give me some time before you knock again.”
42
Lorraine
I should have been more decisive when I talked with the men. But they have those eyes. And those bodies. And they’re just so … persuasive.
They’ll lose interest as time passes. I know they will. I just can’t imagine them waiting around for me, not with all of those women at the club, as Leo mentioned.
When they come to do the yard work the following week, I stay inside because it’s easier that way. All four of them have been haunting my dreams at night, and I don’t trust myself to be face to face with them. Because I know seeing them will torment me, I don’t even look outside. Well, not more than once or twice.
I have to do the right thing. Deep inside, I know things won’t work out with them, and it’s best for all of us if it just fades away.
“What did you do to those poor men, Rainy?” Brittany asks as soon as we’re seated. Since Nick and I first separated, my sister’s been inviting me out for Sunday brunch at least once a month. When I was married, it was more of a once a year event.
“What are you talking about?” I pick up my menu, wishing it was bigger than a single sheet of paper so I could use it to hide my face.
The waiter appears, and Brittany orders mimosas for both of us before returning her focus to me. “I thought they’d been the ones to end things with you, but I found out that wasn’t the case.”
I give her a carefully vague look and pretend to read the descriptions of the restaurant’s offerings.
“Did they wear you out?” she asks. “Were they too much for you to handle in bed?”
“Brittany!” The little restaurant is crowded, and we’re surrounded by people who don’t look like they’d take kindly to hearing sex talk while they eat their waffles and eggs Benedict.
I ignore her for a minute, but curiosity gets the better of me. “They talked to you?”
“Last night,” she says, nodding after swallowing a large gulp of her drink as soon as it’s delivered. “But I’d been hearing things about them for the past week.”
“Hearing things?”
“I heard rumors that Chase Stanton, the club owner, had to talk with them about their energy levels on stage. They’ve always been among the most popular dancers —”
I nod, because I saw their show. Of course they are.
“But lately they seem to just be going through the motions. Not interacting enough with the crowd, stuff like that.”
I’m immediately filled with concern for them. Maybe their growing landscape business is wearing them out? “They’re not getting fired, are they?”
“I don’t think so. Not if they improve. Do you know what you want to eat?” The server has reappeared, order pad in hand.
I’m not as hungry as I was when we arrived, and I still haven’t managed to read the menu, so I just choose the first item on the list.
“When they came to talk to me last night, I found out the reason for the change in their performances,” Brittany says when we’re alone again. She’s giving me a look, and suddenly, I feel uneasy as I realize that their day job has nothing to do with the situation.
“What did they say?”
She smiles enigmatically and makes me wait far too long before she answers me. “They wanted to know if I could give them tips on winning you back.”
An uncomfortable warmth rises from my belly to my chest to my cheeks. I’m flattered that they’re thinking of me, but also flustered.
“So, why did you break up with them?” she asks.
I let out a frustrated huff. “I didn’t break up with them. We were never together —”
“That’s not what I heard,” Brittany says, making her raunchy meaning clear as she waggles her eyebrows.
“We weren’t together. There was nothing to break up. I just told them I didn’t think I should keep seeing them. People were talking about us. Nick even heard about them.”
“Nick. Fuck Nick. Pardon my French,” she adds when I glare at her after glancing at the people sitting around us to see if anyone overheard. “What does that asshole have to do with any of this?”
I was hoping to never need to tell her about Nick’s reappearance, but I’m apparently too flustered to watch what I say. I don’t make a habit of keeping secrets from her, so I decide to spill it all. Nothing she says about him bothers me anymore, anyway.