Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
“I think she gets off on humiliation. Which isn’t my kink, but she seemed fairly annoyed when I had no issue letting her see me naked. I’m in theatre. Or was in theatre. Quick-changes backstage were routine, but…” His expression turns grave again.
“But what?”
“She played me.” He grinds his molars. “I didn’t want to see her naked—I didn’t want to give her that sort of satisfaction. So when she took her photos, I turned my back and gave her privacy.”
“Eliot…”
“I know. I know. I sent her mine, and she sent me a fully clothed selfie blowing me a kiss. To mock me.”
“But she hasn’t leaked your nudes?”
“No, but I’m betting she’s showed half her friends. I don’t care. I don’t care,” he repeats seeing my face twist in guilt. “It’s not your fault, Luna. This was my choice. I’d do anything for our family, you know that.” He eases as I nod back. “The worst part is knowing Charlie wouldn’t have been duped. He would’ve eviscerated her…but why…why the fuck couldn’t I?” His gaze falls. “I go too far, but still, it’s never enough.”
I fling my arms around his muscled body in a sudden hug.
Eliot squeezes me back, and I tell him, “Thank you for loving me enough to try.” I feel his chest collapse as he releases a breath.
He whispers, “Always.”
I’m glad he’s not Charlie. There’s never any question of how much Eliot loves me and how many times he would die for me. It’s unwavering loyalty with no obligation to return it, but I hope I can always give it back. There is no one who deserves as much devotion from our family than him.
Tom tries to clink his heels like a Broadway star on his bathroom exit, and he stumbles and trips into Eliot’s arms. We’re all laughing, especially as Tom throws a drunken, triumphant fist in the air.
“Duke’s on 10th?” Eliot suggests an all-hours diner in Hell’s Kitchen.
Time to sober up the birthday boy.
The caravan of party people shortens as Beckett’s ballet friends hip-hop over to another club and Charlie bails to who knows where. Oscar has to follow him, so Donnelly is down a friend from Omega.
Bulbed marquee lighting frames the humongous Duke’s on 10th sign. The retro American diner looks straight from the 1950s. Teal vinyl booths, Elvis Presley booming through a jukebox, and the clink-clank sound of spatulas flipping burgers on a griddle. It smells like ketchup, fries, and greasy onion rings.
Outside of two women with dark mascara and drunken giggles, slurping milkshakes at the bar, the diner isn’t busy.
Donnelly carries me piggyback to a vacant booth, and we’re singing happy birthday to Tom with Beckett and our bodyguards while Eliot pretends to orchestrate the off-key melodies. I don’t want this night to end. My heart pangs. Bottle, bottle, bottle. Preserve, preserve, preserve, I chant to my brain.
Don’t forget.
Never forget.
“Will you remind me?” I whisper against Donnelly’s ear. “If I ever forget this?”
Donnelly slowly lowers me to my feet and spins around to face me. All the while, my family spills into a vacant booth behind him. He holds my cheek with such love. I melt into his palm, especially as he says, “You won’t forget, Luna,” he whispers. “It’s like you said, you never really could. And if you ever need reminding, we’re creating something bigger than a diary.”
Our life together. Visually depicted in a comic book.
The comic book has been helping both of us process the past. Donnelly with his childhood and me with my memories. I haven’t considered how it could be a map in case I ever lose them again.
What overwhelms me the most…Donnelly is the one drawing the map. His love is bled into the pages.
He breathes, “We can add this night to it.”
I slip my fingers in his beltloops. “It’ll go down as a best-best night for Princess Solana. But she has many of those with Vaughn.”
His eyes sparkle. “Ditto.” We’re about to kiss when my phone beeps in my butt pocket. Donnelly drops his hand off my face as I retrieve it.
I check the text, and my face plummets with my stomach.
“Luna?”
“I don’t…understand.” My breathing shortens.
215-555-9000
You have any pics you wanna send me of tonight, space babe? ;)
I look up at Donnelly. “I think someone’s trying to impersonate you.”
71
PAUL DONNELLY
What the fuck is going on? Luna lets me take her phone, and I tell her I’ll handle this while she orders us burgers. She slips in the booth beside Beckett. While she’s perusing the menu and trying to keep a happy face, I’m hoping to squash this threat like…now.
No random asshole should have her new number.
This shouldn’t be happening.
Luna and her cousins are blissfully unaware that someone has been leaking our location all fucking night. It’s the strangest thing. ‘Cause no one is tailing us. We’ve had temps scout the whole block for a car or a person who’s tracking our footsteps from one club to the next.