The Lover’s Promise (No Exceptions #3)(4)
Author: J.C. Reed

“For what? For telling me the truth? Or for not feeling the same way I do?” She smiled bitterly. “It’s not your fault that the truth sucks, Jett.”

“I still had no right to be so rude.”

“You had every right.” She looked away, past my shoulders, and took a deep breath. “You might be an asshole for hurting me when you left and then again the day you returned, but it’s not your fault for feeling the way you do. I mean…” She sighed. “I knew someday casual sex would no longer be enough for you; I knew you’d find someone who’d make you want to commit. I just hoped I’d never get to see it. I just hoped…”

I hoped it would be me.

The unspoken words lingered in the air.

“Anyway, I’m better off now.” Signaling that she was ready to leave, she gathered her coat and bag, barely looking at me. “I’m sorry I won’t be at your engagement party, Jett. I have so much stuff to do at work, but I’ll make sure to send you a gift.”

“Don’t do that, Ti.”

She held up her hand, stopping me in mid-sentence. “No, it’s okay, I want to. I should never have booked that room, anyway. Brian has been good to me; way better than you ever have.” Even though her smile indicated that it was all a joke, I didn’t miss the sting in her tone. “He didn’t deserve all that shit, you know?” She looked up at me. “Please do pass on my best regards to Brooke and tell her…tell her I’m sorry for everything.”

I nodded, watching her get up and slide into her coat.

“Will you be okay?” I asked. Opposite from us, a neon light flickered across the bar area, illuminating countless bottles of alcohol, making them even harder to miss—or resist.

She rolled her eyes and a soft smile lit up her face.

“Look, Jett, I’m fine. And I’m clean. If you think I’m back to my old days of guzzling down booze, you’re wrong. So very wrong.” She laughed. “I have absolutely no desire for a single drop. The fact that you see me walking into a bar to meet you over a glass of water should be proof enough that I’m long over my addiction.” At my skeptical expression her smile widened. “Really, you’re making such a fuss. It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

The lie sounded plausible enough—if only I could believe it. If only I hadn’t caught the way Tiffany looked at the guy holding his drink. If only she hadn’t been so quick to kiss me and act the way she only did when she was drunk. If she cracked, there would never be enough alcohol to sate her addiction and it’d all be my fault.

“Ti…” I began, gathering my words.

“Goodbye, Jett.” She flashed me another smile and snatched the bag out of my hand, then leaned forward to plant a kiss on my cheek. “Be good to Brooke. I know you’ll make a great husband…and dad.” Her eyes lingered on me for a few moments. And then she walked off without waiting for my reply.

BROOKE

New York City, Present Day

Calm down.

Calm the fuck down.

There was nothing to fear, because I had done nothing wrong. It had been Gina’s idea to visit the club, not mine. All I had to do was answer the detective’s questions and then I was free to leave.

Countless thoughts raced through my head but only one registered: Gina was dead. Killed. Who would have done it? And for a handbag? Even as I asked myself those questions, I knew a mugging wasn’t the answer. While people stole handbags, they didn’t necessarily cut the victim’s throat in the process, which was why the detective was here—to unravel the mystery and get to the bottom of things. Like me, he probably suspected foul play and while I hoped he’d find the killer, I also hoped that, just because Thalia and I happened to be the last people who saw Gina alive, we wouldn’t end up as persons of interest.

“Jenna?” Grayson’s voice drew me back to reality. “You’re the first. The detective would like to ask you a few questions now.”

Oh, shit.

The icy knot in my stomach intensified, growing as big as an iceberg under the water’s surface. Why did I have to go first when I didn’t want to? He’d only pour all his energy into grilling me, and I had no answers, no clues, nothing to help out in any way.

Basically, I was doomed to look like I was guilty.

“Great. I’ll be happy to help,” I said weakly and shot Grayson a confident smile, avoiding the detective’s intense stare. To be honest, I had no idea if he remembered our brief encounters at the hotel, but I could feel his gaze burning a hole in my head. When I finally dared look up, I realized his eyes not only rested on me, but there was also a flicker of recognition clearly written on his face. I froze in horror.

This is what happens when you stare at a guy you don’t know, Stewart. You come across as a complete creep.

Back then, I had probably looked like a guilty mess to him. I swallowed down the lump in my throat, and tried to behave as innocently as possible.

“Detective, you’re welcome to use my office,” Grayson said, oblivious to my frayed nerves.

“Thank you. It won’t take long,” the man said while his stare remained glued to me.

Please, don’t leave me alone with him.

I felt like a lamb scheduled to be slaughtered. My skin began to itch from the strain of trying to act casual. I had done nothing wrong, and yet his intense glance made me feel guilty. Talk about unfair. Talk about the crappiest day of my life. The crappiest of all crappy days.

The detective turned on his heels and motioned for me to follow him, and so I did, unsure what would happen next. To the daunting sound of impending doom, we walked into Grayson’s office. I was like that woman in white, ready to be sacrificed to King Kong and could almost hear the proverbial drums beating in the background. I felt completely paralyzed with fear. With my heart pounding hard against my chest, I took a seat and waited for the detective to do the same.

He didn’t sit down, which was probably a ruse to infuse respect into a suspect. He wasn’t even that tall, so under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have intimidated me. But there was nothing normal about today.

I peered around me, considering getting out of Grayson’s office by faking fainting. I had always wanted to do that, and figured that was the perfect moment, if only to avoid the probing questions and mistrust that would follow. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then closed my eyes for a moment, envisioning the scene. Just too bad I wasn’t cut out for acting. In my head, I promised myself that I’d sign up for some much-needed acting classes. That is, if I ever made it out of here and saved up enough money.