She’s already wearing a full face of makeup.
Did she put it on after I texted? Is it for me? For herself? For someone else?
Fuck, I want to know.
I want everything in her head.
But one thing at a time. I still have to make this up to her. “We do have plans.”
“When will you have her home?” he asks.
“Dad!” she squeals.
He laughs. “Just kidding. Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight, Forest?”
“Oh, well—” I look to Skye for a clue. After she nods okay, I turn back to Mr. Kim. “That would be great.”
“You’re coming to the wedding?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes.”
“You have something to wear?” he asks.
“I should.” It’s been a while since I’ve needed a suit.
“And you, sweetie? You have a dress your aunt won’t criticize?”
“Is that even possible?” She sticks her tongue out in distaste.
Mr. Kim nods true. “She gets sensitive about—”
“Boobs. You can say boobs.”
“I can say boobs but not ass?” Her dad challenges.
She cringes. “Mrs. Davis get upset if she sees too much of mine.”
“That must be hard for you, sweetie. Since you enjoy showing them to strangers on the Internet so much,” her dad says.
Skye clears her throat. “Yeah, I, uh—”
“If you need a new dress, you can borrow this?” He brandishes his credit card. “Or maybe your boyfriend—”
“No, that’s—” She swallows as she takes the card. “That’s very generous. Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Keep it under three hundred dollars,” he says.
“What about shoes?” she asks.
“Three hundred total,” he says. “If that can’t cover the engagement party and the wedding, we can talk.”
“Sure.” She fights a frown.
His voice softens. “You don’t have to go.”
“I know.” She slides his credit card into her purse. “I want to.”
They exchange a look, one of those familial looks, where two people communicate everything without saying anything.
Skye turns to me. “I guess… we should head out. To our plans.”
“And shopping,” he says. “Bee said there’s a sale at Nordstrom.” He refers to Skye’s mom by her nickname. Her name is Belinda. Most people call her Linda, but he always calls her Bee.
“Yeah, and Nordstrom.” She hugs her dad goodbye. Grabs her purse. Heads to the door.
I follow.
“I love you, sweetie,” he calls.
“Love you too,” she says.
For a second, the words drift into my ears, my head, my heart.
For a second, I believe it’s for me. That she loves me. Wants me. Needs me.
Then I blink and she’s staring at me like I’m an asshole.
And I want her love, need, affection, trust more than anything.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Skye
“What happened last night?” I hug my purse to my shoulder. Which does nothing to slow my pulse.
My heart is beating so fast.
And so hard.
He’s so close.
I want to slap him for last night. Then pin him to the wall and kiss him senselessly.
He motions to his car. “We can park in the garage.”
“What garage?”
“At Nordstrom.”
I stare back at him. “Are you serious?”
He shrugs am I?
I can’t tell. I usually can. Okay, I sometimes can. Right now, my body and head are at war.
My body screams just kiss him. Stop talking. Stop questioning. Stop worrying if he’s thinking about her.
Take off his pants. Climb into his lap. Drive down on his thick cock—
My head knows better. But you’ll regret this tomorrow is a much less persuasive argument than FUCK FOREST NOW.
A laugh breaks up his poker face. “Nordstrom has nice menswear.”
I just stare at him.
“Maybe I want to go.”
“If you want to go, fine. But don’t accuse me of shopping at a giant department store.”
“Where do you get your shoes?”
I clear my throat.
“‘Cause I remember something about Zappos having the best price.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No.” He offers his hand. “I want to buy you a matcha latte.”
“We’re walking?”
“It’s a nice day.” He motions to the bright blue sky. The lemon sun. “Horribly bright, but—”
“How much did you drink?”
“Too much.” He dons his sunglasses. Takes my hand. “I’m an idiot.”
“You are.”
“The stupidest person on the planet.”
“True.” I follow him down the sidewalk. “But self-flagellation isn’t an apology.”
“I sound like Chase, huh?”
“Yeah, but Chase can pull off the whole tall, dark, and self-loathing thing.”
“Dark? He has dirty blond hair and blue eyes.”
“And?”
He chuckles. “He pulls off tall, light, and self-loathing.”
“Don’t even, Forest. Remember Halloween? You spent two hours laughing about how his Daredevil costume fit him perfectly, because ‘Matt Murdock is the only self-loathing motherfucker more irritating than Chase is.'”
“I meant it with love.”
It’s true. And Chase wouldn’t mind either. He wears his misery proudly. Or he did. Until he and Ariel got together.
I don’t know him well, but she’s like a sister. She’s happy, so I’m happy for them.
Still. “What do you say about me when I’m not around?”
“Mostly ‘Holden, stop talking about Skye’s tits.'”
I clear my throat.
“You’re right. Feeling like shit isn’t an apology. But I am sorry. And I want to make it up to you.” He lifts his sunglasses. Cringes as light floods his eyes. “I’ll chauffeur you all day—”