"I think Jade's a little busy right now."

She smirks, her eyes burning into me with that hungry, predatory look she gets. "What time are you off?"

"I'm a little busy right now, Fi."

"Well take a break. I thought you owned the place."

"Hold that thought." I shove a finger at her before looking past her at the actual customers crowding behind her. "Yeah?"

"Three vodka sodas, two Sam Adams, Coors Light."

"You got it."

I spin, grabbing a pint and spinning it in my palm as I whirl back for the beer taps.

"You're busy."

I turn back to Fiona. "I literally just said that."

She rolls her eyes, batting a hand at me. I ignore her as I pa.s.s the drinks to the guy next to her, grabbing the cash off the bar and tossing it in the register.

I'm shaking up a double order of raspberry martinis for two of the co-eds from the frat-boy table before I have time to glance back at Fiona.

"C'mon, take a break."

"Can't."

I pour out the drinks and slide them with a charming grin towards the two blushing sorority girls. When I look back up, Fiona's glaring at me.

s.h.i.t I know the look.

Fiona and I had fun, once. Well, many times. I mean once as in once upon a time, but we sure as f.u.c.k weren't a fairytale. In fairytales, the princess usually isn't still living with her boyfriend, and she's also not usually getting f.u.c.ked over the hood of her boyfriend's car in the garage by the bartender she's been banging behind his back.

I don't really see that flying very well with the Disney crowd.

A fairytale also wouldn't usually involve Fiona melting into bats.h.i.t insane fits of jealous rage at the slightest provocation. Like, for instance, when some girl I've never met before smiled at me in a bar, provoking Fiona to stalk after her and smash a f.u.c.king martini gla.s.s over the poor girl's head.

The irony that she was the one with a boyfriend she was casually cheating on with me was apparently way lost on her.

"Easy, Fi."

She whips her head back from staring lasers at the two girls walking away. "What?"

"Deep breaths?"

She rolls her eyes. "That happened once, Row. And I was wicked drunk."

"Just trying to keep my customers out of the E.R."

She grins at me, and I suddenly wish I wasn't done with that bar rush I just had.

"So, you free tonight?"

"You still seeing Jeff?"

She chews on her lip.

"Fiona-"

She holds out her hand, and my brows shoot up at the giant rock on her hand "Jesus f.u.c.k, Fiona."

"I know, I know. Crazy, right?"

"You're f.u.c.kin' married?"

"Engaged," she says in a bored tone.

"Well, congrats?"

She shrugs before grinning that hungry smile at me again. "So you free or not."

"I thought you're getting married."

"I am."

"Then not."

She rolls her eyes. "C'mon Row."

"Why the f.u.c.k are you here if you're engaged? I thought you and Jeff were doing better."

Doing better as in "her not skipping out four times a week to let me f.u.c.k her any way I pleased".

Amazing what "not cheating" can do for a relationship.

"Oh, we are."

"Then why are you here," I mutter through gritted teeth.

"You wanna know?"

Not really.

I frown at her as she grins and leans across the bar - her t.i.ts almost falling right out of her shirt as she crooks a finger at me. I lean forward despite every voice in my head that tells me not to.

"Because he doesn't f.u.c.k me like you do, Row," she husks into my ear. "Because I can't have s.e.x with him without closing my eyes and dreaming of that big d.i.c.k of yours f.u.c.kin' me senseless."

f.u.c.k.

This is how the trap gets sprung.

This is what happened every time before when I'd try and walk away. I'd get hooked right back in.

Why?

Because it's easy. Because I'm an a.s.shole, because I think with my d.i.c.k more than I should, and because Fiona has a great pair of t.i.ts and a mouth like a G.o.dd.a.m.n machine.

I close my eyes and grit my teeth as she giggles and purrs into my ear. And I'm seriously about to throw in the towel and admit she wins, when something stops me.

I can't do this. I won't do this.

Not again.

"I think you should probably leave, Fiona."

She pulls back from me with a look of fury on her face. "Are you serious?"

"You're getting married."

Her eyes narrow to slits suddenly, her lips going tight. "Who is she?"

I frown. "What?"

"Who the f.u.c.k is she!" she hisses, eyes darting around the bar as if looking for someone.

I roll my eyes. "Jesus, there's no she, Fiona, I'm just not getting involved in whatever train-wreck you and Jeff are headed for next."

"I'm gonna find out who this b.i.t.c.h is that you think is so f.u.c.kin' special, Row," Fiona spits at me, shaking her head and furiously s.n.a.t.c.hing her purse off the bar. "We're not done with this."

"Yeah, we are," I mutter under my breath as she storms out the door.

But a few hours later, as we're closing up for the night, I keep coming back to what she said, "Who is she?"

And I lied when I said no one. Well, half lied. Am I seeing someone else? No, but that doesn't mean there isn't someone on my f.u.c.king mind. It doesn't mean there isn't someone planted deep inside my head in a place she shouldn't be, giving me ideas she shouldn't be.

It doesn't mean I haven't been having daydreams all night about what sweet, innocent, prudish little Eva Ellis would look like on her knees wearing nothing but a hungry look and that silver cross around her neck.

Jesus I'm going to h.e.l.l.

Jade leaves first, but I sit at the dark bar, lit only by the neon Red Sox sign in the corner I haven't turned off yet. I let the last of the Led Zeppelin record spin out through the jukebox before I'm finally sitting in silence with an empty beer and thoughts like these about the last girl in the world I should be having them about.

f.u.c.k it.

I get up and turn the neon sign off. I step out, locking the front door behind.

This is a bad idea.

And then I turn and walk directly up the street in the direction of the rental house.

Chapter Eleven.

Evangeline

My eyes travel across the pages of the book in my hand, trailing page to page as I sit up in the bedroom of our house. I'm worn out from the first day of actual work, even if mostly just mentally.

Today was groundbreaking at the new center. Well, not literally groundbreaking, since the Center is being put up in an old factory building from a closed down garment factory. Today was the start of the work though, and my job was mostly marshaling volunteers and helping to lay out schedules for the coming week or two. Still, exhausting, and just the same, I've always had a hard time falling asleep without reading something.

Back when I was younger, it was bible pa.s.sages, of course. Slowly, over the years, I moved past that - d.i.c.kens, Ayer, Hemingway. Some under the begrudging consent of my father, others hidden and read by flashlight.

Tonight's an old favorite - Abelard and Heloise - randomly one of the few I grabbed off my shelf and packed to come here with.

I'm paging through it when a clacking sound comes from outside.

I stop, frowning and glancing up. There's only silence, and the dim sound of someone snoring - probably my father - down the hallway. I return to the pages.

The clacking sound comes again, and I glance up sharply again. The third time, I realize it's the sound of something hitting the window. I slip from the covers, grabbing one of the blankets and wrapping it around myself as I frown and pad to the window.

Something strikes it again just as I get to it. And I gasp, jumping back before flinging it open and sticking my head out.

"Are you serious?"

It's Rowan, standing in the side yard in jeans and a leather jacket, a handful of pebbles in his hand.

"Hey."

"What are you doing?"

He shrugs. "Getting your attention."

"There's a front door and a doorbell, you now. It is your house."

"And how exactly do you think me ringing the bell right now would go over with Preacher Ellis?"

I half hide the grin as I shrug.

"What are you doing?"