Dangerous Exes (Liars, Inc. Book 2)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  I wiped my cheeks as the doorbell rang.

  “Colin!” I yelled.

  He jogged down the hall and sent me an irritated glance. “Didn’t know that a broken heart also meant broken legs.”

  “It’s not my house,” I snapped right back.

  “And yet your ass seems to be melting into my couch.” He sighed and unlocked the door, calling over his shoulder, “You’re not that girl, the one who gets sad.”

  Hadn’t I just said that to myself?

  “Isla!” Goo-Poh’s voice was like a gong going off in the living room as she dropped a dress bag onto Colin’s hands. “You go get the bags.” She left him like that, gaping after her.

  He listened.

  Men always did when it came to Goo-Poh.

  Goo-Poh made her way over to me, and then sighed like she was disappointed. “You look pale.”

  She gripped my chin between her fingers and narrowed her eyes. I tried to pull away. Resistance was futile. Luckily I kept my tears in as her eyes roamed my face at least a dozen times. She released my chin and turned to Colin, who was just laying down the dress bag. “Why have you not fed her?”

  I love that her assumption was that since I looked pale, my blood sugar was low. Sigh. “Goo-Poh, it’s not his job to feed—”

  She held up a hand.

  Colin’s eyebrows shot up. “Blaire!” he called out of the corner of his mouth. “Get your ass out here.”

  Blaire rounded the corner and grinned. “Hi, Goo-Poh.”

  “Your man hasn’t fed Isla.”

  Blaire gasped in outrage. “How dare you lie to me, Colin!”

  I covered my face with my hands, and Colin made a choking noise.

  “You said you fed her!”

  “I didn’t—”

  I peeked through my fingers while Colin made a face at Blaire that pretty much guaranteed he was going to torture her later. He turned back to Goo-Poh. “Uh, what would you like me to make?”

  Goo-Poh straightened. “What are you capable of making that has nourishment for a broken heart and pale skin? We can’t do anything about the loose-fitting clothing, but I do pray one day she’ll reconsider her fashion choices.”

  I looked down at my skinny jeans and top. They were Citizen! The woman was crazy!

  Goo-Poh cleared her throat. “She must look healthy for the wedding.”

  Say what?

  My jaw dropped.

  Colin looked unsure. “I, um . . . pancakes?”

  “Pancakes!” I yelled. “That’s your solution? Pancakes!”

  “Lovely.” Goo-Poh pinched his cheek, then slapped it. “You’re a smart man.”

  He exhaled like he’d just been taken off death row.

  “Goo-Poh,” I said gently, maybe age was finally catching up with her? “I don’t think you understand . . . I’m not marrying Jessie.”

  “Yes”—she nodded—“you are. I already picked up your dress.”

  I was going to be sick.

  Really. Sick.

  “Goo-Poh.” Tears filled my eyes. “I’m not marrying a man who betrayed me in that way, I can’t trust him, I’m not walking down that aisle.”

  “Yes,” she turned around and said, “you are. Now, Colin, let’s get started on those pancakes.”

  She abandoned me for the kitchen.

  My jaw was still unhinged.

  Blaire looked just as surprised. “What did I miss?”

  “She’s convinced I’m getting married still . . . you think it’s because she thinks I’m pregnant?”

  Blaire shrugged. “With all the sex you’re having you could be pregnant, you know.”

  I glared at her.

  “What? Just saying.” She pulled me in for a hug. “What are you going to do?”

  “Eat pancakes.” My voice muffled against her shirt. “Murder Jessie.”

  “You know we’d get away with it easily, we know people,” she said encouragingly.

  My chest pricked with more pain as I tried to suck in a breath.

  The thought of him gone only made me more sad.

  I was still angry.

  So angry.

  But a world without him was like a rainbow without color.

  I hung my head to the sound of Goo-Poh yelling at Colin in Chinese. A pan dropped, more yelling.

  Blaire wrapped an arm around me. “So, what are we going to do?”

  “Let Jessie live . . . save Colin from certain death.”

  “And the wedding?”

  My throat felt like it was closing up. “I wish I knew.”

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  JESSIE

  I’d sent flowers to her office.

  I wrote her a poem.

  It sucked, but it was still a handwritten poem, on paper. Red paper.

  Luckily, Colin finally agreed to hang out with me as long as I promised not to talk about Isla or ask where she was. Not that it mattered, Goo-Poh already told me.

  She was mine.

  And I would break through every single wall Colin put up in order to hunt her down and tell her just how much I cared about her.

  How much I wished I could reverse my bad choices, and at least confess to her and let her help me solve it.

  I told her I wanted to be a team.

  And the minute I had a chance to act like it.

  I handled things on my own.

  The Jessie Beckett way.

  The way I was always used to handling things, with my killer smile, money, influence, power.

  I handled it like the old Jessie.

  When I should have handled it with her.

  I was just scared shitless she wouldn’t give me a chance to explain, and now I was even more screwed.

  Colin’s knock was the only warning I got before he jerked open the door to my house. “Hey, so—holy shit!”

  I looked up from the couch. “What?”

  “What. The. Hell.” He did a slow circle and then faced me. I knew what he saw, an explosion of red, a mixture of other colors, life. “Are you okay? Do I need to call someone? Are you . . . have you snapped?”

  He whispered the last part like I was a small child.

  The walls were painted a muted blue to match the kitchen, and I’d added deep-brown leather couches to the living room, a few spots of color on the throw pillows, and traded in a few of the white kitchen appliances for red ones.

  Because. Red.

  “Yeah, can’t you see the drool, I’m heavily medicated, high as a fucking kite, but I feel great. Did you know that even when the TV’s off people are still talking?” I forced a laugh at his horrified expression. “They talk to me. They tell me things.”

  “Uh, cool, man.” He took a tentative step toward me. “What, um, what do they say?”

  “Things.” Oh hell, this was the most fun I’d had since . . . her. I swallowed past the lump and shrugged. “They say they’re trapped.”

  “Trapped?”

  I nodded and whispered, “In the TV!”

  “Are they now?”

  “Yup, but don’t worry. I’m working on a plan to set them free.”

  “Jessie, maybe we should talk to someone—”

  “I’m shitting you, you dumbass.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not having a breakdown, though good to know you’d stick by my side if I was.”

  “Yeah, I was about ten seconds away from running out the door and calling in reinforcements, so . . . maybe don’t put too much faith in our friendship.”

  “That’s why I called you a dumbass,” I added.

  “Oh, good.” He nodded. “So . . . care to explain?”

  “Explain what?” I got up and walked into my kitchen to grab a beer from my fridge.

  My red fridge.

  Hey, I think it matched the rest of the decor nicely, so what if it was a little . . . loud. At least I could sleep now.

  The white was driving me crazy.

  “You have wall art,” Colin said slowly. “Your kitchen looks like a red bomb was dropped in the middle o
f it, damn, is that a mixer? Do you really have a KitchenAid in here?”

  “I’ve been trying to bake.” I shrugged. “What’s the big deal?”

  “This, this isn’t normal.” He took one look at the beer in my hand, walked over to my minibar, poured two shots of whiskey, and downed them, then winced. “Normal behavior is getting drunk at a bar, having a one-night stand, going on vacation, or in your case buying a new car in white . . .”

  “Hilarious.”

  “You said color gives you hives.”

  “Well, it doesn’t anymore.” I closed my eyes as fresh pain washed over me, and then took another sip of beer.

  “Holy shit, are those red barstools?” He pointed.

  I gave him a shove. God forbid he’d go into my bedroom and see the purple.

  I’d done it on a whim.

  I needed color so bad that I literally was ready to take a marker to my walls like a toddler, and then I went to Target.

  I just wanted to think.

  And I ended up leaving with three carts full of shit that I found great joy in putting in my house. Actual joy.

  The only downside was that I wanted her to be with me.

  I wanted her to experience it with me.

  I saved two rooms for her.

  Just like I saved hope in my heart that she’d come back and fill them up, fill the house up with her laughter, her baking.

  Just her.

  “Lost you there for a minute.” Colin waved in front of my face. “You seem like you’re doing better than you were.”

  I lifted the beer to my lips and shrugged, then said, “Still won’t tell me where she is?”

  Colin looked ready to blurt something when the front door opened. Goo-Poh entered with a few plastic containers of food. She was humming to herself, then stopped in front of me. I kissed both of her thin cheeks before she continued humming and put some of the food in the fridge and some on the counter.

  “What. The. Hell?” Colin looked between the two of us. “Did she just? Is that food? What’s that smell?”

  Goo-Poh went into the pantry and let out a happy sigh, her eyes taking in all the ingredients.

  I grinned at Colin. “She likes me for my pantry.”

  He eyed me up and down. “Yeah. Sure. That’s the only reason.”

  Goo-Poh looked over her shoulder at us, eyed my ass, and then looked back at the pantry.

  “There may be a few others,” I admitted. “Plus she’s helping me get Isla back.”

  Colin’s eyes narrowed. “Would any of this have to do with the fact that she’s forcing Isla to get married still?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Jessie . . .”

  “No, I don’t want to hear it. I have a plan.”

  “Yeah, last time you had a plan you ended up without the woman of your dreams and going on a shopping spree, and this is just as bad. You can’t just force someone to marry you and then try to make it work. That’s screwed up, even for you.”

  “That”—I tipped my beer toward him—“is not the plan. Plus, she went all PI on my ass, why not do it to her?”

  Colin’s answer was to groan. “Leave me out of this, I’m actually still getting laid, alright?”

  “Oh, don’t worry”—I looked over my shoulder and winked at Goo-Poh—“I already have a partner.”

  Colin shuddered.

  “What did she ever do to you?”

  “Well, she ruined pancakes, so there’s that. I still hear the screaming when I close my eyes at night, but other than that? Can’t think of a thing.” He waved at Goo-Poh, who finally acknowledged him with a curse.

  Followed by a hiss.

  Colin stumbled back a step and shook his head. “I was missing one ingredient.”

  “She takes her ingredients very seriously.”

  Goo-Poh finally made her way back to us only to walk right by and sit on the sofa. She grabbed the remote, wrapped it in plastic, and then smiled to herself.

  “What the fu—”

  “Shhh.” I hit Colin on the chest. “It’s a thing. I’ve learned not to ask questions.”

  “You do realize your new partner in crime is basically setting up camp in your home, right? She brought you food, man!”

  I shrugged. “I’d build a house for Goo-Poh and let her fucking watch me sleep at night if that meant I got Isla back.”

  “You’re either crazy or really in love.” Colin slapped me on the back in commiseration, like he got it.

  “Both.” I sighed as Goo-Poh switched channels. “I think I’m both.”

  She started yelling at the TV.

  Colin and I both jolted.

  “Maybe give her a wide berth when she’s here, though,” Colin whispered.

  “Yup.”

  Chapter Sixty

  ISLA

  The countdown was on.

  I measured everything by time.

  It had been seven days since his last text.

  A day since another dozen roses had been delivered by Blaire, a clever way around the whole not-knowing-where-I-was part.

  He stopped at the office and gave them to Blaire at the door, while I peered around my desk for just a glimpse of his lying ass.

  Her heels clicked against the floor and she dropped yet another dozen roses onto Abby’s desk. I refused to touch them.

  I figured if I did, they’d just prick me like the prick who broke me and make me cry.

  I looked back at my screen.

  It was a waiting game.

  Waiting for the ball to drop.

  Waiting for something to get leaked to the press.

  But everything was exactly the same.

  And to make matters worse, the media was obsessed with the fact that Jessie brought me flowers every day.

  We once again had people camped outside our offices.

  Which meant if I saw him I’d have to play nice.

  I glanced at my planner through tear-filled eyes. The wedding was highlighted in red, several times. I’d drawn balloons.

  I was an idiot.

  A stupid idiot.

  “He’s still here.” Blaire handed me the same binoculars that I’d been using a few weeks ago to spy back.

  I stared at them.

  She wouldn’t relent. It was like she switched sides when Colin came home a few days ago spouting nonsense about plastic-covered remote controls and hissing.

  “I bet he is.” I found my voice. “Nothing he says is going to change the fact that he betrayed me, that he was still betraying me while sleeping with me.”

  Blaire made a face. “Look, I know it looks bad, but what sort of guy just waits for you like that? Clearly he feels something.”

  “He feels for his dick, and his reputation. And if he thinks I’m still going to marry him in order to save his sorry ass—”

  “You will,” Abby piped up.

  “Excuse me?” I was ready for a fight, angry, so angry that I still felt for him, still wanted him every night when I cried myself to sleep.

  She looked away from her computer and grinned. “You’re miserable because you love him. Marriage takes work, Isla. Relationships take work.”

  “Okay, thanks, Miss Perfect Marriage,” I grumbled under my breath.

  “He cheated,” she confessed, head held high. “And if you think for one second that didn’t kill a part of me, you’re wrong. I noticed the signs, I ignored them because I thought I was the reason, I was to blame . . . and then I just . . . disconnected from him, resented his refusal to communicate, every time he left my house he broke my heart. I wondered, Is he going out on me? Is he meeting her? Will he smell like her perfume?”

  “Wait.” Blaire held up her hand. “Is that why you wanted to work for us?”

  “It’s like my own brand of therapy.” Abby grinned. “Want to know the worst part?”

  I nodded and leaned forward.

  “One time.” She made a face. “He cheated once. Granted, that’s enough to break someone . . . but because of my own assumpt
ions and fears, because of my resentment, I didn’t know. I assumed for a whole year it was still going on. I berated him, I was passive-aggressive, angry, I was a horrible wife. Yes, he made a mistake, but my inability to communicate nearly became an even bigger mistake. We have children . . . they should never be part of that sort of emotional environment.” She hung her head. “I finally snapped and found out that he’d been seeing a counselor. I also found out that he not only went to HR and owned up to his mistake, he was willing to lose his job because the woman he’d cheated with was his subordinate.”

  I covered my mouth with my hands.

  “We all make mistakes . . . but when you own up to them like an adult, that’s the difference maker. Our marriage is so much better now, probably because we both realize what we could have lost.” She eyed the window. “Seems to me he’s trying. While you sit there and toss more and more blame on him until he’s buried. But let me ask you this—is it making you feel better at all? Or worse?”

  “Worse.” It burned to get the word out. “So much worse.”

  “The thing about forgiveness, Isla, that nobody remembers in the midst of pain and betrayal, is that we do it for ourselves—not them. You’re only punishing yourself. He knows you’re angry, believe me, but right now it’s hurting you more than it’s hurting him.”

  I leaned back in my chair.

  Blaire’s mouth dropped open. “And to think I thought you were just a receptionist. She Dr. Philled your ass.”

  “Receptionist, bartender, hairstylist—all therapists.”

  “True that.” Blaire gripped my hand. “Thanks, Abby.”

  “Anytime.” She spun her chair back to her computer and started humming. The phone rang, she did her normal spiel, and I just stared at her.

  Could it be that easy?

  I grabbed the binoculars with shaky hands and stood, then found myself at the window looking out at Jessie.

  While he looked up at me.

  He waved.

  I flipped him off.

  Then smiled.

  Smug, annoying bastard.

  “Hold these.” I shoved the binoculars at Blaire and marched toward the door.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  JESSIE

  There’s something both gorgeous and terrifying about a woman in spike heels with tears in her eyes.