by Tara Wyatt
Or, maybe she’d done them a favor leaving them alone together because Elliott and Brandon were making out. She glanced away, happy for them but not wanting to watch her brother make out with her friend.
She sat back down at their table alone, her gaze on the dance floor below. A pang of loneliness, sharp and intense cut through her, dampening her bright mood. Feeling the need to connect with someone, she pulled her phone out of her clutch and texted Kayla and Lauren.
Willa: I miss you guys.
She waited for a few minutes, but her phone remained silent. Lauren was probably curled up with Theo, watching a movie and eating popcorn. She could picture them now, Lauren’s head on his chest, Theo’s arm around her, his fingers playing in her red hair. And Kayla was probably in bed with Sebastian. Based on everything she’d shared, Willa was aware that the two of them had an insanely active sex life.
She sighed and set her phone down on the table. She missed her friends, and while she didn’t begrudge them their happiness, she was a little jealous that they both had a Prescott to curl up with and she was stuck pining after a Prescott who’d made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want her.
She felt…left behind. Left out. And alone. In that moment, she felt really, really alone.
She slumped back in her seat and let her eyes wander around the club, taking in the happy people all around her. Normally, she would’ve counted herself among them. She was a happy person. Hell, she’d smiled her way through the torturous chemo treatments she’d had to endure six years ago. But lately, the smiling had been getting harder and harder. For the past…oh, six weeks or so.
Since the home invasion. Since the incredible night with Max and then the fallout the next morning. Fallout she was still dealing with.
She closed her eyes for a second and pulled herself together. She didn’t want to sit here feeling sad or sorry for herself. That wasn’t who she was, and even though she’d been rocked, she’d find her footing again. She always did.
Fresh resolve steeling through her, she picked up her phone and opened the Blind Date app, trying to figure out what she should say to SilverFox44. But before she could come up with anything interesting, her phone buzzed, a notification from the app popping up.
You have a new match!
Her interest piqued, she refreshed the screen she was on, and sure enough, there it was. A new match, outranking all of the others.
BetaTestAccount23 – 98% compatibility
Her eyes widened. Ninety-eight percent? How was that even possible? Surely there’d been a glitch in the algorithm to get that kind of percentage. Biting her lip, she clicked on her match’s username, her eyes scanning across the screen. Male, 36, straight, in Manhattan. No additional details filled out. He hadn’t even come up with an original username. Pretty boring.
She almost closed out of the app entirely, but her eyes kept bouncing back to that 98%, which had to be a mistake. When the beta test was over, she’d have to pull the reports and find out what had glitched. And yet…
Licking her lips, she decided to message him just to see if he’d respond.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Wow, 98%. That’s impressive.
Her heart gave a little jolt when he started messaging back right away, three little bouncing dots appearing below her message.
BetaTestAccount23: Right? No pressure.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Now I’m dying to know how you answered some of those questions. I mean, we’re practically soulmates. At least, according to science.
She cringed as soon as she sent the message, wishing she could undo it. Soulmates? So cheesy.
BetaTestAccount23: Maybe we scored 98% because I had the exact same thought about wanting to know how you answered. Science doesn’t lie.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Well…pick one of the questions. What do you want to know?
BetaTestAccount23: Is talking about the test against the rules?
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: I don’t think so? Just no personal details.
BetaTestAccount23: Right.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: I guess there’s nothing stopping us from just saying who we are—we both work at Tapp, maybe we know each other. But then…it’s kind of fun not knowing, isn’t it?
BetaTestAccount23: It is. It’s freeing. No preconceived ideas. I like it.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: So…what did you want to know?
BetaTestAccount23: Hmm.
BetaTestAccount23: Okay, if you could have dinner with anyone in the world, who would it be?
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Ha. Well, I didn’t have the deepest answer for this one. But I said Gordon Ramsay because 1) I’m sure he’d cook us an amazing dinner and maybe I could pick up a few cooking tips, 2) he seems really interesting, and 3) I’m sure he has amazing, hilarious stories.
BetaTestAccount23: No way.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: What?
BetaTestAccount23: I said Gordon Ramsay for the same reasons. I’d also keep a running tally of how many F-bombs he dropped.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Right? He’d make amazing food and be super entertaining. Are you a foodie?
BetaTestAccount23: I love food, but I’m strict with what I eat.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Oh no. Are you a gym bro?
BetaTestAccount23: I like working out, but I’m not a meathead, if that’s what you’re asking.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: So why do you keep your inner foodie restrained?
BetaTestAccount23: This is totally top secret.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Dude, I don’t even know who you are! But I promise, anything that happens in the chat stays in the chat. Pinky swear.
BetaTestAccount23: I was overweight as a kid. It was cute when I was little—I was a ball of pudge. You should’ve seen my cheeks. Most pinchable cheeks within a 40 mile radius.
BetaTestAccount23: But it became less cute as I got older and you know how kids can be. I got picked on a lot, so in my late teens I started lifting weights and watching what I ate.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: I’m sorry. That must’ve been really hard. Kids can be cruel, and it sucks that you had to deal with that.
BetaTestAccount23: I liked taking back that control over how I looked, and now it’s just part of my everyday life.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Okay, but if you could indulge in anything right now, what would it be? Imagine a day with no calories. What’s on the menu?
BetaTestAccount23: Waffles, covered in whipped cream and maple syrup. Mid-morning snack would be a donut, and then lunch would be the biggest bowl of cheesy pasta I could get my hands on. Then fries, then an entire pizza for dinner followed by an entire chocolate cake.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: That sounds absolutely heavenly.
BetaTestAccount23: Even as I was typing all of that out, a part of my brain was tallying up the calories. I can’t switch it off.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Hey, that kind of discipline is impressive.
BetaTestAccount23: Or psychotic. But I’ll take the compliment.
BetaTestAccount23: Okay, it’s your turn.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: My turn?
BetaTestAccount23: Yeah. I never tell anyone about being an overweight kid. Ever. So I need blackmail material.
BetaTestAccount23: That sounded far more sinister than I intended.
BetaTestAccount23: I don’t people well.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Really? I think you’re doing fine. More than fine.
BetaTestAccount23: That’s a relief.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Hmm…Well, okay, there’s this one thing. It’s kind of embarrassing.
BetaTestAccount23: Do tell.
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Don’t judge me, but I thought fairies were real way past when it was cute to think that.
BetaTestAccount23: How old were you?
FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Um, like 10. Way too old to believe in fairies.
BetaTestAccount23: I don’t think that’s embarrassing.
BetaTestAccount23:
It’s sweet.
“Who are you talking to?” Dori’s voice cut through the music and startled Willa, forcing her to set her phone on the table and look up.
“Oh, um. One of my matches in the app,” she said, shocked to find that they’d been effortlessly chatting for nearly half an hour now. Or maybe it wasn’t shocking given their alleged compatibility. She rubbed at her face, realizing that her cheeks were sore from smiling. “How did it go with blue shirt guy?”
Dori made a face, wrinkling her nose. “Total bust. Total douche. Total waste of time.”
Willa frowned. “Damn.”
“Yeah. I think he saw how much fun I was having and decided to ruin my night.”
“I’m sorry, Dor.”
“It’s okay. Besides, I’m only interested in fictional men and guys who don’t actually like me back. But I did find this guy who could be an honest to God Viking to dance with for a bit, so I still had some fun. Were you up here on your phone the whole time?”
“Yeah, sorry. I got chatting with this guy, and time just kind of flew.”
“That’s got to be a good sign, right?”
Willa smiled. “Yeah. Maybe.” She liked that he’d opened up to her right away, sharing about his weight struggles when he was younger. In her experience, that kind of vulnerability wasn’t easy to come by and it made her hopeful that not only were they truly a good match, but maybe he’d be her ticket to really moving past Max.
Just then, Brandon came back to the table, Elliott hanging a few feet behind him. “Hey, we’re going to head out,” he said, his eyes bright.
Willa’s eyebrows rose. “You’re taking Elliott home?”
Brandon nodded. “Mmmhmm. Yep.”
Willa stood and pulled Brandon in for a hug. “Just…be careful, okay? He’s got a lot of baggage and I don’t want you to get hurt.” She’d wanted to bring Elliott out so he’d have some fun for once, but now that he was going home with one of her good friends, she had mixed feelings about it.
Brandon gave her a squeeze. “I appreciate the concern. But I think we both know that I always go for red flags over red roses and your brother is no exception. I know what I’m getting into. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Text me tomorrow. But, um, no details, okay? He is my brother.” And there went another pang of jealousy-tinged loneliness, stabbing her right in the middle of her chest.
He winked at her and then returned to Elliott, who took his hand and led him down the stairs, tossing a wave over his shoulder at Willa.
“You wanna go home and eat ice cream and watch trash TV?” asked Dori, her head tilted. “My feet hurt.”
Willa smiled and picked up her phone, slipping it back in her clutch. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
7
“Would you put your phone away? I’m starting to think I’m boring you. You’re going to give me a complex,” Max’s brother Lucian said dryly from across the table. Max glanced up from his phone to find Lucian staring at him with one eyebrow arched. Shooting his brother an apologetic smile, he slipped his phone back in his pocket.
He was having his usual weekly dinner with Lucian at one of Lucian’s many restaurants. He’d been in the mood for steak, so Lucian had booked them a table at The Stonewall Chophouse, a steakhouse he owned in Hell’s Kitchen. In the past, the four Prescott brothers had always had dinner together, but with Theo and Sebastian both out on the west coast, the dinners had become smaller with just Max and Lucian.
The interior of the restaurant was dim and expensive-looking, all wood and leather with jazz playing through the hidden speakers. Every table was adorned with a pristine white tablecloth and nestled between wood and brass dividers, giving everyone privacy. It was swanky and elegant and masculine, all at the same time.
“Sorry,” he said, picking up his scotch and taking a sip. It cut a warming path right down the center of his chest and he savored it for a minute.
“Who were you talking to?” asked Lucian, his tone casual but his posture alert.
Max shook his head. “No one, really. We’re beta testing this app.”
Lucian took a bite of his baked potato. “The dating one?” he asked, raising his eyebrow again.
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
Lucian grinned. “That makes more sense. You’re waiting for a woman to message you.”
Heat curled through Max’s system, coupled with a healthy—or unhealthy, depending on your viewpoint—dose of shame. Yeah, he was talking to a woman. Yeah, he was enjoying it. Yeah, he felt like he was doing something wrong because he was still completely hung up on Willa.
But Lucian was right. Max had been waiting for Fresh Princess to message him back. Over the past three days, they’d already managed to take their connection meter from light pink to a much darker pink with all of the messages they’d exchanged. They’d talked about their favorite movies and music, divulged that they both rehearsed phone calls before making them, were both video game nerds, and found out that they agreed that the most underrated spot in Central Park was Wagner Cove. She’d told him a little bit about her brother, that she’d grown up in Woodbury, NY and moved to the city for school and had stayed.
He’d told her tiny bits and pieces about his life, but he didn’t like talking about himself or his past. He probably wouldn’t have told her about being an overweight kid the first night they’d talked if he hadn’t been deep into his second whiskey. He kept everything about himself so tightly contained that he worried that if cracked it open even just a tiny bit, it would be messy and ugly. So he hadn’t told her about the fact that his parents had had a disaster of a marriage that had ended in a horribly acrimonious divorce. He hadn’t told her about how hard he’d worked to build Tapp from the ground up because that would’ve given away his identity.
And he sure as fuck hadn’t told her about Sophia.
A part of him knew he should pull back on all of this chatting, but earlier that afternoon, she’d messaged him asking him what his perfect day was and he’d taken the time to really think about it before answering. He was waiting to hear what she thought of his answer. Waiting to hear what her perfect day was because even though she was a total stranger, he wanted to know. She’d been offline since he’d sent his answer and he couldn’t seem to stop himself from checking his phone regularly.
Talking to someone like this was completely out of character for him. He wasn’t a sharer. He wasn’t good with people. But with her…he couldn’t explain it. He just liked talking to her. There was something about the ease of it that was comforting and fun. It felt really good to actually connect with someone.
The other side of the coin, though, was Willa. Every single time he saw her, guilt sliced through him, and not just because of how he’d hurt her. Now, talking to someone online, he felt like he was doing something wrong. Like he was cheating on her. Which was stupid, given that they weren’t together and she was still doing everything she could to avoid him. But still, he felt like he was giving this complete stranger something he should be giving to Willa. The anonymity of it all made it easier to open up, true, but it was probably just more proof of how broken he was that he’d rather talk to a stranger than the gorgeous woman down the hall who’d told him she wanted him.
“I’m not looking to get involved with anyone,” he said, tension radiating through his jaw. “You know that.”
Lucian studied him, a pensive look on his face. The second he opened his mouth, Max shook his head.
“Don’t.”
“Someone’s touchy,” said Lucian, shaking his head. “I was only going to ask if you’d talked to Bastian recently.”
Max shook his head, not believing Lucian for a second. “The last time I talked to him was the day after he and Kayla landed in Tahoe. Why?” His eyebrows furrowed as he leaned forward, his elbows braced on the table. “Do you think he’s still in trouble?” Worry for his brother pulled at him. Bastian had made a mess of his life, but he’d turned over a new leaf, finding ways to move past his gambling
addiction. And now that he had Kayla, he seemed like he was finally in a good place with everything, and Max wanted it to stay that way for him.
The home invasion that Kayla and Willa had endured felt like both ancient history and as though it had happened yesterday. Thank God he and Lucian had gotten to them in time.
Thank God his older brother was a scary as fuck badass who’d handled everything.
Lucian took a sip of his scotch and shook his head slowly. “No, I think everything here’s finally settled. Bastian’s debt is paid. But still, it’s probably for the best that he’s starting fresh on the other side of the country. Safer that way, for both him and Kayla.”
Max eyed his brother. “Can I ask you something?”
Lucian grinned. “I have a feeling you’re about to ask me the same question Sebastian did several weeks ago.”
“I try to stay out of your business. I try to stay out of everyone’s business, mostly because I sure as hell don’t want anyone in mine.”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you in the mafia?” he asked quietly, glancing around to make sure no one was paying any attention to them. He knew about the rumors that swirled around his brother, but until the night Kayla and Willa had been in danger, he hadn’t truly believed them. Sure, he’d known his brother was shady and colored outside the lines when it benefitted him, but he’d still been shocked to watch Lucian calmly pull a gun from his waistband and stride into that apartment as though he did that kind of thing all the time. It had made Max think that maybe he did.
Lucian laughed. “Short answer is no. I’m not.”
“And the long answer?”
Lucian shrugged slightly and tipped his head. “Is more complicated.”
“So you’re not mobbed up?”
