Everything for Us (The Bad Boys #3)(64)
Author: M. Leighton

Willfully, I bring my attention back to the action on the dance floor. The girl, the blond one I’ve been watching, runs her hand down her friend’s arm, pausing just long enough at her plump breast to be suggestive. Her eyes are on mine, though. And the invitation is clear. Even when I look at her friend, the dark-haired one, I know I could have them both if I did so much as nod my head toward the door. I sigh into my drink.

But I won’t. I won’t motion for them to follow me when I leave. And I won’t be bothered if they turn their attention toward someone else. No, tonight the only company I’ll be keeping will be a bottle.

THIRTY-EIGHT

Marissa

Olivia’s eyes are wide with surprise. “Are you kidding me? That’s great news! Why aren’t you more excited?”

I shrug. I’m sitting with her at the club. It’s the middle of the day on a Saturday, so we’re alone. “I am, I just . . .”

When I don’t continue, she reaches out and grabs my hand. “You just what?”

I feel my chin begin to tremble. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do now. It’s almost over.”

“But that’s a good thing. We can all finally move on. And you, you’ll have so many career options your head will spin.”

“I know. And that’s great, but I’m just not sure this is what I want to do.”

“What? Prosecute huge cases and make the world a better place? Or practice law at all?”

I shrug again. I don’t really mean to do it. It’s almost automatic, as though my body can’t resist an outward manifestation of the ambivalence that’s churning inside me.

“Both, I guess. But it’s not just that.”

“Then what? What is it? Did something happen with your dad?”

I’ve been keeping Olivia up to date on all the drama with my father. He basically disowned me when he saw that I was actually going through with the prosecution. But then, once we started making good progress and the press started to get involved and people began to see how much good we were trying to do by locking these guys up, he changed his tune. Suddenly I was worth his time. Suddenly he sees a bright future in politics for me.

That was when I stopped taking his calls. He’ll never want me just for me. He’ll always see me as a means to an end. Or a project of some sort. Or maybe a family trophy. Who knows?

That is, of course, when he doesn’t see me as an embarrassment.

“No, I haven’t talked to him lately. It’s . . . it’s just . . .”

My eyes sting as the tears rush in. I look down at my hand where it rests in Olivia’s, blinking as rapidly as I can to keep from having some sort of hysterical fit.

“Tell me,” Olivia prompts softly.

“I feel like this is the last little bit of Nash I have, like once this is over, he’ll be out of my life completely. Forever. I think I’ve been doing this for him more than anything else. I wanted him to be free of all that anger and bitterness. I wanted him to be able to move on and have a happy life.”

Before I can continue, Olivia finishes my thought as if she could read my mind.

“And you thought he’d move on to that happy life with you.”

To hear that hope spoken aloud and to know that, little by little, day by day, it has been disappearing is almost more than I can bear. It makes it too real, too final.

With one involuntary gasp, the floodgates open and all the pain I’ve felt over the loss of Nash comes rushing out in deep, soul-wrenching sobs.

“I-I-I thought he’d c-c-come back,” I sputter as Olivia comes off her bar stool and gathers me into her arms. I lay my head on her shoulder and I cry. And I cry. And I cry. I cry until there’s nothing left.

Olivia doesn’t move a muscle, other than to stroke my hair. Finally, I pull back from her to reach into my purse for a tissue.

“I’m sorry,” I sniffle before blowing my nose. “I guess that’s been a long time coming.”

Olivia sits back down, her expression sad. “To be honest, I thought he’d come back, too. I really, really did. It was obvious he had feelings for you. I think he’s just too screwed up to know what to do about them.”

“We just didn’t have enough time. And now we never will. I just thought . . . I had hoped . . .” I swallow back the sob that rises into my throat. I’ve cried on Olivia’s shoulder—literally—enough for one day. “But I’m a big girl,” I say, sitting up a little straighter. I need to put on a brave face and put this behind me. At least outwardly. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to really do that on an emotional level. At least not completely. “It’s time I figure out what I’m going to do with my life and get to it. I’m not getting any younger.”

Olivia rolls her eyes. “Because twenty-seven is so old.”

“Twenty-eight,” I say automatically.

“What? Twenty-eight? I thought . . .” I see her forehead wrinkle as she thinks our ages through. Her eyes round when she realizes I’m right. “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod! We missed your birthday!”

She covers her mouth with her hands like she cursed in front of a priest. I can’t help but smile. To me, this is no big deal. But to Olivia, it’s tantamount to burning my house down.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal! How could this happen? How could I not know?”

I shrug again. It’s the story of my life lately. One big shrug of ambivalence. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve been fussed over on my birthday for most of my life. You know, to keep up appearances and all.” It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “It was kinda nice to be anonymous that day. I didn’t really feel like celebrating.”

And I didn’t. The only thing I really wanted was for Nash to come back. Or even to call and tell me he missed me. But that didn’t happen. After that, no amount of presents or parties or birthday wishes could’ve salvaged that day. That being the case, I figured it was just best that no one knew.

The look on Olivia’s face assures me that she understands all that I’m saying and all that I’m not. She gives both my shoulders a squeeze. “It’ll get better, you know.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement. And I do know that. I think. It’s just that, at the moment, it doesn’t feel like the dull ache in my chest will ever go away.

THIRTY-NINE