One Last Night (Love or Magic #2)

by Sotia Lazu

  “Reject,” she said. “And set phone sound off.”

  She was convincing herself to get out of bed, when Mike’s voice filled her bedroom. “Please answer me, Ana. Hear me out.”

  “Reject call. Reject.” She was going to call WICCTech, the HouseSsistant5000 provider, and chew them out.

  Mike kept talking. “You haven’t given me a chance to explain. Someone’s setting me up with those pictures.”

  “Setting you up? Who?” she called out, against her better judgment. “Who has anything to gain?”

  He spoke over her. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “Your little girlfriend was tired of fucking a married man, and she decided to take action. That’s what happened. No more games, Mike. Stop calling.”

  “All I know is I love you. I’ve never loved another woman, and I certainly haven’t touched one since I met you. If the pictures are real, if my”—he twisted his mouth—“lover sent them, why do it anonymously? Why not tell you when and where they were supposedly taken? Whoever’s behind this doesn’t want me proving my innocence, but you should know, Ana. You should know. I love you.”

  She pressed her hands over her ears, trying hard to block out his voice. “End call. Please.” She was sobbing again. She’d thought she had no more tears left for him, but here they were, drowning her again.

  “End of voice message. Voice message stored,” HouseSsistant5000 said.

  A freaking message. At least Mike didn’t hear her cry.

  But she heard him cry. She heard the catch in his voice, and it tore her up inside. If there was a chance he was telling the truth—

  No. Lies. All lies. Back then, and still now. She wouldn’t let him trick her again. The pictures were clear.

  She remembered the message blinking in her inbox. It had been the anniversary of their first night together, and he always took her to Arbore’s to celebrate. He’d been waiting in the car for her. He said he loved waiting for her. Loved seeing her always choose to come to him.

  She’d seen the notification on her way down the stairs, and pulled up her inbox as she entered the car to sit next to the man she loved, who was supposed to be her home. Her nest.

  His hand was on her knee when she opened the message. No subject. The sender was d0wnwf8@dreammail.com. It should have landed in her spam box, but it hadn’t. It was in her inbox, waiting to ruin her life. Dread wrapped icy fingers around her lungs and squeezed the breath out of her. She should spam it. Trash it. Report it.

  She hadn’t. She’d opened it, and looked at picture after picture of her husband fucking another woman. A younger woman. There was no doubt it was him; he faced the camera, eyes hooded, his sensual lips curved in the self-satisfied smile she knew all too well.

  “I want a divorce,” she’d said. No tears. No waver in her voice.

  She was proud of how she handled the situation, not once having an outburst in front of him. No screaming. No calling him names. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see he’d destroyed her.

  Her mother refused to acknowledge the possibility the pictures were real. Who took them, if they were? Bella had no answer to that, but if Mike was sleeping with another woman, he might have been sleeping with two of them just as easily. One of his horde of lovers might be a photographer.

  “You have an incoming call from Angie.” Her virtual assistant was back to having a female voice.

  Bella wasn’t in the mood to be pitied, but her cousin had achieved an admirable balance between understanding Bella’s pain and not making it the focal point of all their interactions.

  “Accept call,” Bella said.

  “Hi, hon. How are you?”

  Miserable, lonely, and beating herself up over her failed marriage. “I’m okay, I guess.”

  “Should I believe you, or keep asking?”

  Bella sighed. “I’m lying, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay. Wanna go for lunch? I have a free hour or so.”

  Bella thought about it. Not like she’d be cooking, and there was only so much takeout she could bury her grief under. “As long as we don’t go for Italian.”

  Angie didn’t pretend to find the forced joke funny. “Good. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

  Bella thought of asking where they’d go, so she could dress appropriately, but decided not to bother. Jeans, a black top, and a blazer would work for most places, and she didn’t feel like wearing anything fancier, anyway. “I’ll be ready.”

  Once Angie was off the line, Bella clapped. “Insert memo: Tell Angie about HS issues. End memo and export to cell.”

  She had to fix the HouseSsistant5000 before she called Cassandra. She wouldn’t want faulty software to mess up something as important as a call to her old manager. This was the only reason she put off calling, not her fear that the woman wouldn’t even remember her name.

  Cassandra had believed in Ana. She got her the summer gigs Ana was celebrating at Arbore’s, the night she first laid eyes on Mike. Cassandra had urged her to continue the celebration afterhours, with the hot young chef. Poor woman couldn’t have imagined a night of fun would lead Ana to dropping her career and becoming an ornament on Mike’s arm.

  Bella wanted to blame Mike for her loss. For all her losses. For the wasted years. The more she thought about it though, the more she realized that wasn’t the case. She’d allowed herself to be lost in a man. That he ultimately wasn’t who he seemed to be was irrelevant.

  Maybe she should cancel her lunch plans and try to get some sleep. Then she could dream of being that other woman, who took hold of her destiny and didn’t throw her life away for love.

  * * * *

  “Thought the world’s best pork buns would cheer you up.” Angie pulled into the parking lot of Bella’s favorite Chinese place, and Bella’s stomach growled and clenched at the same time. Memories of happier times clogged her throat and made her eyes sting.

  Oblivious, Angie checked her rear-view mirror before sliding her car in reverse and easing it into a spot Bella would need a million maneuvers to fit in if her car was covered in lube. Angie’s parking was as perfect as anything she tried her hand at, and Bella couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy that speared her insides. If she had half of her cousin’s determination to succeed, divorcée wouldn’t be her only qualifier now.

  “I said pork buns, and you didn’t salivate.” Angie turned her worried gaze to Bella, her tone too serious for her words.

  Bella hoped the smile she managed didn’t look pained. “I’m drooling on the inside. Honest.”

  “I messed up, didn’t I? Let’s go somewhere else.”

  Like where? San Francisco was their city—hers and Mike’s—and they’d made the most of it whenever Mike wasn’t working. Or fucking barely-legal redheads. He wouldn’t kill this place for her.

  “I’ve missed good pork buns.” Bella got out of the car, careful not to scratch the Lexus to her right.

  Angie nodded and followed suit. “Lock. Alarm set on touch,” she said over her shoulder, and her car responded with series of clicks and a long bleep.

  “This is new,” Bella said.

  “Prototype. You can set a radius for reaction, and whether you want the alarm to blast everyone’s eardrums or text you. I prefer the mayhem option.” Angie was the head engineer in WICCTech. She and her wife had established the cutting-edge software company, and both maintained key roles after it went public.

  “I like it. Do you have something that repels cheating ex-husbands?”

  Angie rolled her eyes and led the way in. “I have some things in mind for him, but I’ve promised Sarah not to go there.”

  Bella wouldn’t mind talking torture techniques, but she doubted it would help. She needed her mind off Mike.

  Angie didn’t see things the same way. “How does it feel to be officially free—judge’s seal and all?” she asked as soon as the waiter took their order. Her grin didn’t reach her blue eyes.

  Bella appreciated
the effort, but the words sliced through her. “Not as liberating as I expected.”

  “It hurts, huh?”

  “Like a motherfucker.”

  Angie chewed her lower lip and ran a hand through her shoulder-length chestnut hair.

  “Hey. I’ll be okay,” Bella said.

  “I know you will be. It’s just so hard sitting back and watching you go through this, when I could— Oh, goddess. I’m making you comfort me? I’m so selfish.” She frowned. “And now I’m a drama queen. Ignore me. You talk. How are you feeling? How are you doing? How can I help?”

  Bella’s smile caught her unaware. She didn’t think she had a real one left in her, but Angie’s rambling did the trick, and Bella was done hiding. “I’m lonely. I miss him. Can’t stop thinking about it all and wondering why I wasn’t enough.”

  “Honey, you can’t blame yourself. He’s the one who messed up what you had.”

  “Yes, but maybe he wouldn’t have, if I were still the woman he fell in love with. I changed. I lost myself. And I was stupid to believe he’d love me no matter what.”

  “You weren’t stupid.” Angie shook her head. “None of us saw this coming. And I’m a friggin’ genius; I should have. I still can’t believe it’s true. I know the pictures checked out, but are you sure you don’t want me to look into the email account? I can trace it. We can find out more about…”

  The other woman. How not like Bella she was. Or worse, how much she and who Bella used to be had in common. “No. I don’t blame her. Mike was the one who swore to love me forever.”

  The server approached with a tray that held all sorts of delicacies, and Bella and Angie watched in silence while he unloaded dish after dish on their table. Bella reached for the seaweed as soon as the man turned his back.

  “You know, there are other things I could do.” Angie spoke the words slowly. Carefully. As if they’d break. Break Bella?

  “Surveillance?” Bella snorted around a mouthful of crispy perfection. “I want to put everything behind me, Ang.”

  Angie wiggled her fingers, and the tips glowed blue for a split second. Trick of the light? “I wasn’t talking about technology,” Angie said. “I meant magic. I haven’t messed with it since—when did Lexi…? Oh, never mind. The point is I still have it.”

  It took a heartbeat for the words to sink in. “Magic? Angie, it’s 2031. Technology is like magic, but—”

  “No, hon. I’m talking actual magic. I can cast spells.” Angie hooked her finger and a spring roll flew into her palm.

  Bella gaped. “Is this a new project? A magnet that works on non-metals, or something?”

  “Why don’t people listen when I talk?” Angie took a bite. “It’s magic. I have it. Haven’t used it since Lexi and Ric got together. Well, not much. I promised Sarah I wouldn’t meddle with you and Mike, and I thought the statue was enough, but it wasn’t, and now I’m thinking maybe I should do something.”

  This wasn’t real. It was another of Bella’s messed up, too-real dreams. Her cousin couldn’t be a witch, and the statue…

  “Ugly little Aztec-god guy? You said it was for good luck.” Bella’s ears buzzed, and shaking her head didn’t help, but she did it again. “You can do magic?”

  “It was for luck. He is. He’s supposed to look after you and make your dreams come true. Not in a horror-movie way. He was supposed to keep you and Mike happy together. Which is why it’s so hard to believe he did what he did.”

  Bella kept her composure. Either Angie was having a psychotic break, or Bella’s mind was playing tricks on her, but she’d go along with it. Not like anything else in her life made sense. “You expected your mini-god to brainwash Mike into not fucking anyone else?”

  “It doesn’t work that way. Xochipilli is supposed to send you good vibes and ward you from external negative influences. It would work if Mike really lo—” Angie snapped her mouth shut so hard, Bella’s jaw ached.

  “If he loved me.”

  Angie held her gaze. “I can figure this out. If you want me to.”

  “Nothing to figure out. What’s done is done. And if it’s okay with you, I’ll forget all you said about magic. My world is messed up enough without more unknown variables.”

  Angie opened her mouth, seemed to reconsider it, and nodded. “Change of subject. Did you get a hold of Cassandra?”

  Not that Bella’s lack of a career was her favorite thing to talk about, but it was an improvement. “Not yet. I’ll call her tomorrow. Your latest upgrade messed up my HouseSsistant. It accepts calls I want to ignore, and the voice keeps changing from female to male. It’s a little freaky, hearing a strange man’s voice inside the apartment.”

  “I’ll check it out tonight. Remotely.”

  “Cool. Thanks.”

  Angie bared her teeth in an imitation of a smile. “And what will you be doing tonight?”

  “Um… sleeping?”

  “No. You’re hot, and you’re single. You should be on the prowl.”

  “I don’t think that’s happening any time soon.”

  “Tonight.”

  “Angie…”

  “Tonight.” Angie’s scowl and the way she shook her index finger in Bella’s face indicated she wouldn’t drop it.

  Bella couldn’t win this. “Tomorrow. One drink.”

  “Acceptable start. And you’ll have to talk to a guy. Just one.”

  Bella leaned back in her chair and shoved half a pork bun in her mouth. Her reluctant nod wasn’t exactly a binding contract.

  Chapter Seven

  “Man, how much salt did you put in that Marinara?” Grant tossed his spoon into the sink with a grimace.

  Mike wiped his hands on the towel and grabbed another spoon, to try for himself. Bad. “I can fix it. I’ll add some sugar.”

  “Careful. Don’t make seafood marmalade out of it.”

  “You don’t tell me how to fucking cook, all right?”

  Grant held up both hands. “I’m joking, Mikey. Don’t freak out.”

  Mike patted Grant’s shoulder and forced a smile. “I’m just used to getting it right the first time, you know?” That was why he didn’t do second times.

  Except for Ana—she broke his rule.

  And he wanted her to keep breaking it.

  “I got this. You go have a smoke or something.” Derek nodded at Grant, pulled on an apron, and tied it behind his back. Grant went out the back, and Derek joined Mike behind the cooker. He sniffed the air over the pot of failed sauce and said, “I can smell the extra salt. You’re all over the place. It’s the blonde, isn’t it?”

  Mike’s first instinct was to tell Derek it was none of his business. Instead, he nodded. He wasn’t the kind to talk about feelings and thoughts and relationships, but Derek was his friend, and the rest of the brigade wasn’t in yet, so they had relative privacy.

  “I’ve never seen you so discombobulated before.” Derek added a pinch of sugar to the marinara and nudged Mike with his elbow. “She’s different, huh? Drives you nuts. Gets under your skin. Doesn’t let you focus.”

  “How’d you know?” It was easier to talk when Derek looked at the simmering pot instead of at him.

  “Amanda did the same to me. Still does, sometimes. I can never tell what’s on her mind.”

  “Ana—that’s her name. She won’t give me her number. Says we’re good the way we are.”

  Derek laughed. “You found a girl who doesn’t want commitment, and of course you get hooked.”

  Mike crossed his arms over his chest. He felt defensive, though his rational mind said Derek wasn’t attacking him. “It’s not like that. I’d want her—” He wouldn’t finish that aloud or in his head. “I don’t want her because she’s not looking for a relationship. I just… I like her. We have fun. She’s smart, and she’s funny.”

  “And good in bed?”

  Mike clenched his fists until his knuckles hurt, to keep from planting one of them in Derek’s nose.

  “I see it’s not like that.” Dere
k turned to face him, his blue eyes serious. “If you like her, why not date her?”

  “Are you deaf? She won’t let me.”

  “Did you tell her that’s what you’re after?”

  Mike thought back to his too-brief, sex-filled nights with her. “Not in so many words, no. But she brushes me off when I mention anything about future plans.”

  Derek widened his eyes in mock horror.

  Mike punched him this time, but it was light and on the shoulder. “You’re a jerk. I mean arrange to meet up for coffee. In advance. Like people do.”

  Derek returned his attention to his cooking. Added some olive oil. Pepper. Tasted it again. “Maybe she doesn’t do plans?”

  Or maybe she didn’t want to do Mike again.

  Maybe she was already doing someone else. She didn’t want Mike calling, because another man might pick up the phone. The man she went home to, after Mike fucked her. The one she woke up next to.

  The possibility sent a stab through Mike’s gut. “I need a break.”

  “We haven’t started yet.”

  “Just gimme fifteen. You got this.” He had to get some air, put his thoughts in order, and think of what little he knew about her. Maybe he could find her?

  “Go. Fifteen minutes, man. I’m serious.”

  * * * *

  Times like this, Mike wished he still smoked. He could sure as fuck use the high. He could bum one off Grant, but he refused to pick up the habit again.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at an empty bottle. At Derek’s orders, the alley behind Arbore’s was kept clean, but the cleaning crew wasn’t due for another hour. The heat had gotten to the trash, and the smell of rotting food assaulted Mike’s nostrils. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be with Ana.

  A rundown minivan sputtered his way, and the front wheel landed in the single puddle of water in the entire alley. The puddle that was right in front of Mike.

  “Hey.” Mike’s pants were drenched in muddy water, the shittiness of the situation matching his mood.