Tangled Page 46

Men are a lot like frogs.

Was I freaked out by my little epiphany? Of course I was. It was huge. Life-changing. No more strange pu**y. No more stories for the guys. No more Saturday nights. But none of that mattered anymore. Honestly.

Because it was too late. I was already boiling—for Kate.

That whole night I watched her sleep. And made plans…for us. The things we’d do together, the places we’d go—tomorrow and next weekend and next year. I practiced what I would say, how I would tell her my feelings. I imagined her reaction and how she would confess she felt the same way. It was like a movie, some horrible chick flick that I would never go see. The dashing playboy meets the take-no-prisoners girl of his dreams, and she snags his heart forever.

I should have known then that it was too good to be true. The best things usually are: Santa Claus, the male G-spot, heaven—the list is endless.

You’ll see.

We’re walking down Fifth Avenue. Instead of wasting precious time driving across town to Kate’s apartment, we stopped at Saks on the way to work, where I bought Kate a new navy Chanel suit. Can’t have her doing the Walk of Shame into the office, now can I? When she was trying on clothes for me, I swear, I felt just like Richard f**king Gere in Pretty Woman. Kate even bought me a tie.

See?

Then she insisted on stopping by the lingerie department to replace the panties I’d so erotically destroyed. I put up a good fight over that one, but I lost. You ladies ought to know—going commando? That’s sexier than leather and lace and whips and chains all put together.

We stop by Starbucks and grab some much-needed caffeine. As we walk back outside, I pull Kate close. I cup her cheek and kiss her. She tastes like coffee—light and sweet. She pushes my hair back out of my eyes and smiles.

I’ll never get tired of looking at her. Or kissing her. Pussy whipped, thy name is Drew. Yeah I know. It’s okay. I don’t mind. ’Cause if this is the Dark Side? Sign me up. Seriously. Don’t be surprised if I start skipping down the street singing, “Zip-a-Dee-fucking-Doo-Dah.” I’m that happy.

Kate and I turn the corner. Holding hands and smiling at each other like two idiots who popped one too many antidepressants. Nauseating, isn’t it?

We need to stop here for just a minute. You should look at us. How we are right here, right now—hand in hand. You should remember this moment. I do.

We were…perfect.

Then we get to our building. I open the door for Kate and walk in behind her.

And the first thing I see are daisies. Large white daisies with cheerful yellow centers. Some in vases on the security desk, others in bunches tied with ribbon. Some are scattered singly all over the floor, random petals here and there. In the middle of the lobby is a circle of even more daisies. In the center of that circle, is Billy Warren. And he’s got his guitar.

Fuck. Me.

No, that doesn’t quite cover it.

Fuck me with a chainsaw.

Yeah—that’s about right.

You ever see a singing ass**le? Here’s your chance:

I was so blind I didn’t know

How much it would hurt to let you go

I want to heal us, want to mend

Come back, come back to me again

If I didn’t hate him so much—and the jackal who spawned him—I’d have to admit he’s not half bad. I watch Kate closely. Every emotion that crosses her face, each feeling that dances in her eyes.

You know when you have a stomach virus? And you lay around all day with a bucket at your side because you feel like you’re going to puke at any second? But then there’s that moment—when you know it’s coming. You break out in that cold, full-body sweat. Your head pounds, and you feel your throat expand to make room for the bile that’s charging up from your stomach.

That’s me. Right now.

I actually put my coffee down and look around for the nearest garbage can just to be sure I’ll make it there in time.

And I need to say I’m sorry

For all the pain I caused

Please give your heart back to me

I’ll keep it safe for eternity

We belong together

We’ve always known it’s true

There will never be another

My soul cries out for you.

Any other time, any other girl, I would bury Warren. Without even trying. He can’t hold a candle to me. I’m a goddamn Porsche; he’s a frigging pickup truck that can’t pass inspection.

But this is Kate. They have a history, a decade’s worth. And that, kiddies, makes him some major-league competition.

In the dark of night, it’s your name I call

I can’t believe I almost lost it all

One more chance, one breath, one try

No more reasons to say goodbye

I want to pick Kate up, caveman style, and carry her out of here. I want to lock her in my apartment where he can’t see her. Can’t touch her. Can’t touch us. The whole time I stare at her, but she doesn’t turn to look at me.

Not one f**king time.