The Lover’s Game (No Exceptions #2)(14)
Author: J.C. Reed

Gina and I exchanged glances.

“You’re so bad,” Gina said, laughing. “One drink, and that’s it.”

“Atta girl.” Thalia’s sharp gaze focused on me, and for a moment I could almost feel it penetrating the barriers of my mind, as though she could see right through me.

Just one drink.

I wouldn’t even have to take more than a sip, and no one would notice.

Gina shot me a “trust me” look.

I had never really been much of a drinker anyway, no more than a glass or two of wine, but the idea of spending the evening with new friends brightened my gloomy mood. Besides, my obstetrician had even recommended one glass of wine every now and then. “Okay,” I found myself saying and lifted one finger, “but one drink only.”

“Absolutely.” Thalia laughed out loud as she locked her arms with ours again. “That’s totally the plan. Come on, girls. First round’s on me.”

Chapter 9

It was supposed to be one drink—just one single drink to celebrate the fact that I had found a new job. What’s a night out without colorful cocktails or a cold glass of martini with a green olive on a stick? Ever since becoming pregnant, I had felt I had been missing out on the fun: New York City’s nightlife screaming of light pleasures and dark chaos, quick dates, and drawn-out dramas—all the excitement and disasters that came with going out and not knowing how a particular night would end. At that moment, I hoped it would end in meeting new people, making new friends, and maybe finding the beginnings of a new life—a new path without Jett. Maybe even a new guy, someone who would take my mind off the past and help me move on.

I had worked hard all my life, but finding a new date, a new lover, someone to replace my past love, was harder—particularly in a city like New York that was full of people who had no time for relationships. The only available men for dating were those who worked at night: single, successful, driven, and eager to win and get ahead. Those who loved to work hard but f**ked harder. They reminded me of my old self—eager to build a career, never looking for love or a relationship. If I wanted to get Jett out of my head, all I had to do was explore New York at night and meet new people. And all that started with a drink, albeit the nonalcoholic kind, whether I wanted it or not.

As we entered La Rue, the buzz of people and music immediately made my mind spin in a good way; the laughter and excitement all around me were surprisingly captivating.

“Let’s sit at the bar,” Gina yelled in my ear, “so we don’t have to walk too far for drinks.”

The bar area was so crammed, I doubted we’d find one vacant stool, let alone three. “There’s a table over there,” I said, ready to push my way through. For once, all the shoving and invasion of my space didn’t bother me.

Thalia motioned to get the barman’s attention and flashed her stunning smile, which had him heading for us in an instant.

I jotted down, “Cranberry cocktails—absolutely no alcohol for me,” on a napkin and pushed it over the counter toward him, with some money tucked inside. He winked at me, then took Thalia’s order.

A few minutes later, we were sipping our cocktails at a table, our heads bobbing to the music blaring from invisible speakers that forced our conversation into shouts. Before long, one cocktail turned into two and then three, and I had to act as though I was drunk—which was fun, but not as much fun as watching my new friends getting hammered.

“She’s single,” Thalia shouted to a group of guys before I could stop her.

“Shush.” I held a finger to my mouth, smiling. “You’re making me look desperate.”

It was true, but given her intoxicated state, I couldn’t blame her. A few cocktails into the night and both Thalia and Gina were drunk. I had no idea how many drinks they had ordered already, because I had lost count at some point.

Ever since Thalia had asked about my relationship status and I had revealed I was single, she was hell bent on changing that by attracting the attention of potential suitors.

“You’re not looking for anyone?” Gina asked, surprised.

“Hell, no.” I shook my head. “I’m enjoying my single life.” Both Gina and Thalia cast me curious glances. I waved my hand dismissively. “Long story, but getting into a new relationship is the last thing on my mind right now.”

“Ah. Bad romance gone worse.” Gina laughed. “I could sing that song myself.” She leaned in conspiratorially, her breath smelling of the mint gum she kept chewing. “Who needs love anyway when all you need is someone to warm your bed for the night.”

I stared at her, open-mouthed. “Just to be clear, I don’t want a relationship,” I said. “I’m not ready for one now.”

“Everyone says that after being dumped.”

“I wasn’t dumped,” I protested.

“Sure.” Gina winked at me. “You know, there’s no shame in admitting it.”

“What Gina is trying to say is that we can help you to hook up with someone,” Thalia cut in, surprising me once again in her similarity to Sylvie. If it weren’t for her exotic looks, she could have been my roommate’s twin.

“We’ll be your wingmen,” Gina said. “Or wing women.”

“Is that even a word?” I shook my head; it was easier than arguing with them in their determined and inebriated state.

“We’ll find you a hookup,” Thalia said. “No relationships. Just a hot guy who’ll make you forget your ex.”

I cringed inwardly. Yeah, as if that would happen anytime soon.

“That’s the plan.” Gina pushed her red hair back over her shoulder and stood to scan the room with the eyes of someone who seemed to have done this before. Several heads turned toward us and for a moment I wished I could just shrink in my seat so no one would see me.

“Please don’t tell me you’re looking for prospective candidates.” I grabbed her arm and pulled, gently urging her to sit back down, but she wouldn’t budge.

“As a matter of fact, she is,” Thalia said, laughing. “Now sit back and let the professional do her job. Clearly, you need someone to help you move on, and when it comes to getting revenge, Gina’s the best.”

“No.” I shook my head again and took a gulp of my drink. “I’m not looking for revenge. More like a rescue plan really, something to keep me from running back to him.” The words tumbled out through my cranberry-tasting lips, and I realized my blunder too late.