When I reached Jeremy’s, I wasn’t any closer to answers or understanding. He answered the door quickly after I rang the bell, a frown on his face.

  He stepped aside to let me in. “Did you talk to Sonya this morning?” He asked.

  Not the best greeting, but at least it was one I understood. “There were words exchanged. I’m not sure I’d call it an actual conversation.”

  “She texted me about fifteen minutes ago.”

  Which was right after I left. “Oh?”

  Jeremy showed me his phone.

  Sonya: I’m tired of trying to hint.

  Jeremy: At what?

  Sonya: You and Quentin belong together. I know you’re both hurting from the past, but it’s obvious.

  Suddenly more of what she’d said in the kitchen made more sense. “Fuck me.”

  “I think that’s what she’s pushing for,” Jeremy said dryly.

  “So she thinks we’re one of her fictional couples?” My frustration surged again, blending to anger.

  Jeremy gave me a flat smile. “If she’s right, you’re definitely John Watson.”

  “Bullshit. Because there’s no way you’re Holmes.”

  “No? I figured this twisted shit out.”

  “She sent you a text. She fucking told you. You didn’t figure anything out, and this isn’t a joke.”

  Jeremy scrubbed his face. “I know. I thought we were… And then last night… And it turns out she was never—”

  “Homey, I’m a gnome.” Nigel’s voice came from behind me as he walked through the front door. “Shit. Do you want me to come back in five so you can finish whatever this is?”

  “No.” I bit off the word.

  Jeremy gestured toward the back yard. “I asked Nigel if he wanted to help. That probably squashes Sonya’s mastermind scheme. Do you want to see the place?”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back? I’d never intentionally disrupt one of Sonya’s plans,” Nigel said.

  “We’re fine.” Jeremy’s tone conveyed we were very much not, and reminded me too much of my conversation with Sonya.

  Nigel held up his hands, as if in surrender. “All right. Fine it is. Do you want to do this now?”

  “Yes.” Doing was exactly what I wanted.

  Jeremy lived in one of the older parts of town, not quite at city center, but close, in a house on about an acre of land. A driveway led to a detached garage that was much newer than the house, and that same path kept going to a second structure in the back yard that was built from the same brick as his home.

  Small windows ran along the top of the older building, near the roof. He opened a side door and flipped a light switch. Two rows of fluorescents flickered on above our heads, and kept flickering, illuminating a lot of dirt and leaves and a wall full of tools that were as much rust as metal.

  “You didn’t have time to lay down the plastic sheeting.” Nigel’s tone was a strained teasing.

  I tried to chuckle. “I knew it. This is all part of an elaborate plan. To… kill me?”

  “If bad puns and pop culture references are deadly, then definitely,” Jeremy said.

  What looked like minimal work at first turned into several hours of removing a layer of dirt, debris, and trash at a time. The three of us worked for several hours doing just that.

  We were moving on to sweeping and scrubbing when Jeremy let out a soft oh and his hand dropped away from the portion of two-by-four he was de-griming.

  Nigel glanced over Jeremy’s shoulder, then frowned and turned back to his work. “She’s in the past.”

  Curious. I couldn’t help but look. It was a heart with J+J in the middle of it. Cliche, but also sweet. “Who’s J?”

  “Jeremy.” Nigel’s answer was less than helpful.

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, genius. The other J?”

  Nigel looked at Jeremy who shrugged.

  “His ex-wife,” Nigel said.

  Ah. That made sense. I knew Jeremy had been married, but no one had ever shared the details with me. “I’m sorry.”

  “It was what needed to happen. Sometimes the reminders just hit hard, you know?”

  “I do.” Especially after time spent with Mick this last week. I was curious, possibly more than curious if there was a level above that, but I wasn’t up for prying, the way things had been going with Sonya.

  We went back to work, the new silence in the room feeling heavier than the grime, and Jeremy moved away from the patch of wall in question.

  “She was one of my best friends.” Jeremy’s comment came out of nowhere. “Worked with so many of us and the original crew at Cord and then Rinslet.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to the statement. “Okay.”

  “So many of us had been working together for almost a decade. A lot of us had gotten married. Hell, some were already divorced.” Jeremy’s voice was more contemplative than sad. “A bunch of us were in Vegas for some show. Funny how I don’t remember which one.”

  Nigel laughed. “There were a lot of Vegas shows. Pretty sure that was one with open bars in the courtesy suites.”

  “Definitely.” Jeremy nodded. “We wouldn’t have drunk that much if it was on our own dimes. But just like in the movies, drunk-Jenni and drunk-Jeremy decided we were such amazing friends, we should get married.”

  “I’m guessing it didn’t turn out like in the movies.” I felt bad for Jeremy that he’d gone through such a thing. Was it weird that there was also a thread of relief that it hadn’t worked out? That was fucked up.

  Jeremy barked a laugh. “After a couple of years of what I thought was living with and fucking one of my best friends, she told me what we had wasn’t love, and she wanted more out of life.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah.” Jeremy sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “I had no idea it was coming, I didn’t understand at the time why she did it, and because we all had the same friends and worked with them, it pretty much tore the group apart. Everyone blamed me for pushing her away, especially when she quit and moved to another state.”

  “We didn’t,” Nigel said. “Yeah, there was some animosity when it first happened—Jenni was one of us and she was leaving—but that wasn’t your fault, and no one thought that. She grew beyond us.”

  Jeremy’s long sigh implied he wasn’t sure he agreed. “One of the last things she said to me was that I was an immature man boy who would never recognize love.”

  “That was a decade ago.”

  I was with Nigel on this. “We were all immature man boys at thirty, and I’ll tell you a secret about love.” Wait. I didn’t know any secrets. Did I?

  “This oughta be good.” Nigel leaned in.

  It ought to be interesting, at least. “Everyone says you’ll know it when you feel it. I call bullshit. Or rather, it’s not nearly that simple. Love isn’t enough. Sometimes it doesn’t last. But everyone spends so much time searching for that elusive lightbulb that says this person will be yours forever that they miss out on the good stuff.”

  “Does that include you?” Jeremy asked.

  Missing out on the good stuff in my never-ending quest for a love that was guaranteed to not hurt? “I think it might.”

  “I like this guy.” Nigel turned back to his work. “Smart and pretty. He’d be perfect for—”

  Jeremy smacked him on the arm.

  “Sorry,” Nigel said.

  I was so tired of incomplete thoughts. “Perfect for what?”

  Nigel grabbed his phone from his back pocket. “Look at the time. Wow, it’s late. I should go.”

  “It’s three in the afternoon.” No, really. I was sick of this.

  Nigel wiped his hands on one of the cleaner rags we had for things like that. “It’ll be dark in less than three hours. I hate driving in the dark. Catch you Monday, Jeremy. Great hanging with you, Quentin.” He backed out of the shed like his ass was on fire.

  “Few things have ever been less subtle,” I said.

  Jeremy leaned against the nearest support post, arms crossed. “He was going to say you’d be perfect for me, if I hadn’t been hung up on Sonya since I met her.”

  Wow. “You know that for certain.”

  “I do. She’s not the only one who’s tried to set me up over the years.”

  I processed the words. “So she’s tried to push you toward someone else more than one.”

  “No. She hasn’t. He has. She’s got a better eye for chemistry between people.” Jeremy looked at me.

  It would be easy to just stare back. To gaze into his eyes and see what kind of answers sat there. I didn’t appreciate Sonya matchmaking me, but she did have good taste. The thing was, I couldn’t let her go. Like Nigel hadn’t said… If I wasn’t so hung up on Sonya.

  “I think though, that if love is possible—if it’s a real thing—then being able to love more than one person is possible, too.” Jeremy kicked away from the wall and turned back to the heart with J+J in it. “Hand me the orbit sander.”

  I did, and listened to the device whir over wood as he erased the crudely carved mark from the interior wall. Love wasn’t the right word for how I felt about Jeremy, but it didn’t taste wrong, either. Could it become the right word? Did he think it already was?

  He finished and set the tool down. “I don’t think you and I are there yet, but would you really write off a chance to find out if we could be?”

  “I really wouldn’t.”

  24

  Sonya

  I didn’t want to be harsh with Jeremy and Quentin last night, and Goddess pushing them away hurt. But better now than a month or two down the line, when I was so addicted to what we were doing that I crumbled from losing it. If having those TV offers withdrawn to buy my rights almost crushed me, I didn’t want to think about how I’d react to having to admit Jeremy and Quentin weren’t mine long term.

  I was happy being friends with them, and I couldn’t risk losing that.

  Unless I was being an idiot about the entire thing.

  When I saw Quentin this morning, it had taken all of my restraint to not stay and talk. I wanted to sit and chat and see if he’d flirt and tell him I was wrong to cut him and Jeremy off the way I did last night.

  To beg him to let me pretend things meant more than sex.

  And that one thing was what made me keep my distance.

  I could shove thoughts aside for more important things, as long as I was working. Fortunately, today was Make Things Awesome for Megan Day. I already had a plan for that and it had much better odds of turning out the way I envisioned than me moping over men who weren’t mine.

  I’d spent the morning shopping and the afternoon baking pigs in a blanket and sugar cookies shaped and frosted like gray sweatpants. By the time the first guests arrived, penis streamers hung on the walls and drinks and appetizers waited on the dining room table, like a buffet of I’m-going-to-be-so-sick-in-the-morning-and-I’m-not-going-to-regret-it.

  Not everyone could make it with the last-minute schedule change, but in addition to Carly, Megan, and me, there were three other women. Gretch was one of Megan’s best friends and her wedding planner. Evie was my kind of nerdy—an electrical engineer who owned a hardware store in a small town in the mountains. Zoey was a competition gamer and gaming streamer.

  We started drinking and playing silly games right away.

  Adult Pictionary quickly degenerated into pictures of large dicks and boobs with stick figure arms and legs. It was funnier with a couple of shots of liquor in me.

  I hadn’t planned the timing well at all. The stripper wouldn’t be here for an hour, and I didn’t have any other games to play. Why hadn’t we come up with more games last night when I was planning with Jeremy and Quentin?

  Thinking their names sent a wave of sadness through me. How did I miss them already? It had been less than 24 hours since I last saw them, and it wasn’t like they were gone from my life. I’d just vowed not to sleep with either of them anymore. I poured myself a shot of something green and vaguely licorice-smelling.

  “We should play Drink if…,” Megan said.

  I was intrigued.

  “What’s that?” Gretch asked.

  “It’s like Never Have I Ever,” Carly explained. “Someone says an event, like sex in the back seat of a car or sex in a dressing room, and if you’ve ever done that thing, you have to take a drink.”

  I wasn’t sure I liked the topic. Or rather, the reminders that came with it. “Do they all have to be about sex?”

  “No.” Megan shook her head more furiously than was needed. “Well throw some things in there for those of you who are boring, to make sure everyone gets drunk.”

  I stuck my tongue out at her and swallowed another shot. “That’s because I’ve done one of those.”

  “We haven’t started yet,” Carly said.

  I shrugged. “We have now.”

  “Fine. You pick next, then.” Megan poured herself a shot and waited.

  I should give them a chance to catch up. “Slept with someone who has the last name of Cocker.” Easton’s last name.

  Megan, Gretch, and Evie took a drink. It was a good thing I’d hidden everyone’s keys when they arrived and told them to plan on crashing here tonight. Though it wasn’t such a good thing that I asked the stripper to come after the drinking games.

  I’d have to remember that next time. Though, if I was lucky, I’d forget a whole hell of a lot tonight. Every time I let my mind settle, I remembered the last few weeks with Jeremy and Quentin. How good it felt to be with them. Not just the sex, but there was a closeness that had happened too.

  I downed another shot.

  “When did you go skydiving?” Carly asked.

  Oh. Shit. “Um, in my dreams?” I tried to laugh off the mistake. “Maybe no more Drink if… tonight.”

  I needed to empty my head, and the noise and alcohol weren’t doing what I wanted. The laughter was drilling into my thoughts, though. I adored all of these women, but there was a reason I skipped most parties. My people meter didn’t hold very much.

  If I took a few minutes to catch my breath, I’d be okay and then I could laugh with everyone else again. As the topic shifted to a new tangent, I slipped away to the kitchen.

  I was standing by the sink, drinking in lungfuls of air and trying not to think about Quentin and Jeremy, when Megan joined me.

  “Thank you for tonight. For all of it.” Her cheeks were flushed and there was a faint slur to her words.

  “Of course. Anything for you.”

  Megan leaned her head on my shoulder. “You’re lucky.”

  I didn’t feel it tonight. “For what?”

  “You’re a bestselling author. People love your words so much they build games around them and want to make TV shows out of them. You have two perfect guys—okay, one gorgeous guy and one cynical idiot—who worship you—”

  “They don’t.” And now the thoughts of Jeremy and Quentin were back.

  “They do. I wish I could… Never mind.”

  Something in my mind snapped. I hated seeing Easton treat Megan the way he did, and my filter was already clogged with an assortment of liquors. “Why don’t you leave him and find someone who’s worthy of your loyalty?”

  “Because he loves me.” Megan’s answer came out so tiny I barely heard it.

  My heart cracked for her and my stomach lurched. “Does he?” I winced as soon as I asked the question, but I could tell from her hurt expression it was too late to take it back.

  “You’ve been spending too much time with Jeremy.” Now Megan sounded upset. “He’s infected you with bitterness.”

  Might as well finish the conversation I started. “Easton treats you like shit. We love you and we all see it. I’m sorry.”

  Her chin quivered and she let out a huff. “I’m almost forty.” Megan’s voice cracked. “What if there’s no one else who wants me?”

  “In the whole wide world? I guarantee there are other people who want you. Even in this city.” I softened my voice.

  “But how do you know?”

  “I write romance for a living. I know a wonderful, lovable heroine when I see one. Besides, isn’t no relationship better than being in one where you’re not treated like his equal?” I almost gagged on the words as they mingled with Dominic’s from yesterday.

  Megan huffed and leaned against the counter next to me. “You’re drunk.”

  “So are you.”

  “Then we can take it all back in the morning.”

  I didn’t want to do that. The only thing I wanted to do was take back pushing away—

  The doorbell rang, slicing through my thoughts.

  “Stripper’s here,” Carly called from the other room.

  “Yay.” Megan grabbed my hand and yanked me back toward the living room.

  The man standing in my entry way was gorgeous. Short, blond hair, a wiry muscular frame, and camo pants and a T-shirt that were probably two sizes two small.

  He reminded me of Quentin. Why was I here instead of spending time at Jeremy’s with them?

  I grabbed the closest beer, popped the top, and took a long swallow. The music wound up, and I played along with the whoops and cheers as Landon shimmied his way out of his clothes.

  What was wrong with me that I couldn’t get into this show? Even when he was stripped down to nothing but a thong, his erection obvious, my thoughts were somewhere else.

  When he asked where the bride-to-be was, he shifted his attention to Megan. There was a lot of grinding and no protest. She looked cuter with him than Easton, but who was I to match people up?

  He finished his dance, but didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave. Instead, he pulled on enough clothes to cover his dick, and let the women pull him onto the couch for conversation.

  I wandered into the kitchen again, so many thoughts overlapping in my mind. Why was I giving advice to Megan when I couldn’t even make smart decisions myself? Why had I pushed away amazing men? I really didn’t know. The reasons I’d given were there, but I didn’t believe them.