by Sam Mariano
Ugh, stop it, Laurel. He doesn’t want you! Get your shit together.
I’ll be glad to get back to Chicago and get my head right. I’m eager to see what life after Vegas will be like for me. No more Sin, no more Rafe. I’m sure I’ll see Rafe on occasion when he comes for holidays, but that doesn’t bother me. Even though he’s probably downstairs sexting some other fucking girl right now, I know I won’t be bitter about Rafe. I don’t feel for him deeply enough for bitterness to take root. Meanwhile, if I had to endure holidays with Sin and the woman he goes on to fall in love with, it would turn me to stone. Probably another reason there’s no chance for me and Rafe. Being with Rafe would mean Sin would always be in my life, but never within my grasp. Someday someone will unlock him, and he will get married or have babies… and I want all that for him because I want him to be happy, but I don’t want to witness it, because that would make me absolutely miserable.
This is making me sad. I don’t want to think about this. Grabbing a piece of paper from a note cube on the desk, I mark my place in the book I’m reading and head downstairs to make myself some lemon tea.
Juanita is cleaning up in the kitchen. She should be starting dinner, so I don’t know why she looks like she’s finishing up for the day. Maybe it’s one of her nights off. I haven’t quite figured out her schedule. It seems to change around Rafe’s whims. If she’s not making dinner, I assume that means he isn’t staying in either. Maybe now that I’ve had the nerve to notice his dip in interest, he’s given up on me completely. Or maybe he thinks to punish me like he did by flirting in front of me by openly going out with someone else.
Joke’s on him; I don’t care anymore.
Stirring my tea, I glance up at Juanita. “Taking the night off?”
She appears startled that I’ve spoken to her. “Si, yes.”
“I speak Spanish if you prefer that. Just don’t talk too fast or I can’t keep up.”
Smiling faintly, she says, “Is okay, I speak English.”
“Do you like working for Rafe?”
Nodding her head, she says, “Yes, he is good man. Bad taste in woman, but good man.”
A little laugh of surprise shoots out of me. “Thanks, Juanita.”
“Oh, not you,” she says quickly, rushing over to pat my arm. “Lo siento. Not you.”
“She means Cassandra.”
I spin around, startled to see Rafe leaning in the doorway. “Eavesdropper,” I accuse.
“I love to eavesdrop. I do it every chance I get,” he tells me, completely unapologetic.
I turn back to my tea as he pushes off the wall and heads in my direction. “I do too, actually. Not people I know, but like, when I go out to eat by myself? Unapologetic eavesdropper. I like observing people.”
He’s closer than I expected him to get, but his arms encircle my waist. My hair is tucked up neatly into a bun leaving my neck exposed, and he takes advantage to bend his head and kiss that sensitive swatch of skin. “So do I,” he murmurs. “We should make a date of it one of these days.”
I can’t help smiling faintly. “An eavesdropping date? I wouldn’t say no to that. We should invite Carly and Vince, make it a double. He’s not much good at it, but Carly is a blast to people watch with.”
“I think I’m the second to last person Vince wants to go on a double date with,” Rafe tells me. “Also, Vince isn’t allowed to come here, and I have no desire to go to Connecticut.”
“You don’t have any coupled up friends, do you?”
“Not really. Gio, but he’s not much fun.”
Wrinkling up my nose, I shake my head. “I don’t like double dates with them. His wife doesn’t like me. I don’t think he does either.”
“I’ll lure Mateo and Mia out here one of these days, we can have a couple date with them.”
“He’s too scary,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I like Mia, but he makes me nervous.”
“Fine, we’ll leave him home and you and I can take Mia out. I like that even better.”
Biting back a smile, I tell him, “Yeah, I bet you do. You need to give up on this fantasy, it isn’t going to happen.”
“I think Mateo wanted to give me Mia if anyone ever took him out. Since you two get along so well, how do you feel about potentially having a sister wife?”
That makes me laugh, mostly because I don’t think he’s kidding. “I’ll take Mia for a sister wife, but only if I get a second husband. Every night you spend with her, I spend with him. Yep, I’ll take that deal.”
His tone is dry. “Sorry, Sin doesn’t play well enough with others for an arrangement like that.”
Mentioning Sin makes the joke far less funny, and my smile melts right off my face.
He must feel it, because he swiftly drops the joke and changes the subject. “Juanita is taking the night off because I’m taking you out. I figured we could grab dinner, then stop by the casino so I can check in. I reserved a suite for us so we can stay on the strip like tourists.”
Reluctantly delighted, I glance back at him over my shoulder. “You did? I love being a tourist.”
Rafe smiles. “I know you do.”
“This is not what I was expecting to follow our conversation in the car. Usually men get pissy when you tell them they’ve done something wrong.”
“I try to be reasonable,” he tells me. “Whether I think I’ve backed off or not, you obviously do, and that’s what matters. That was not my intention, so if it came across that way, I’m sorry.”
Sighing, I let my head fall back against his strong shoulder. “You’re such an adult sometimes. It’s pretty sexy, I’m not gonna lie.”
“You keep me on my toes, you know that?” he asks me.
“Yeah? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” He kisses my neck one more time, then lets me go. “Go upstairs and get dressed. I picked out an outfit for you, it’s on the bed.”
17
Rafe
Laurel looks lovely tonight. Her hair hangs down around her shoulders, the black dress I had sent over looks lovely on her. She doesn’t complain, but I don’t think she loves the heels. Probably should’ve gone with kitten heels. I’ll make a note for next time.
I can’t decide if I like or dislike how little I affect her right now. On one hand, I should have much more power over her than I do. I have yet to even recover as much control over her as I had at Mateo’s house over Easter, and for a relationship to work, I’ll need at least that, probably more.
On the other hand, I haven’t earned it. She’s right. Sin was right. I didn’t see myself doing it, not even when Sin said I was. It wasn’t until Laurel called me out on it that I admitted my interest had dipped. Given what she said to make me realize it, I couldn’t fully admit it to her.
I wish Laurel had a more forgiving nature. She doesn’t know the story of Mia and Mateo’s relationship, but I know if Mia had lost Mateo’s interest for a little while, she wouldn’t have resented him for it. It would have made her sad, of course, but she wouldn’t be ready to jump ship over a rough patch. Once they worked it out, she would sail right past it and go back to adoring him. In turn, he would remember what a great thing he has, and shower her with emotional and material rewards to show his love and appreciation.
Laurel does not have Mia’s emotional elasticity. When Laurel gets sick of my shit, she gets sick of me. I don’t bother pointing out that I’m not the only one who has withdrawn. Even though it’s true, confronting her with it would be pointless. Trying to draw her out of it is more effective. I already knew that, but then Mia texted me with a, “Psst, can I give you some advice?” and I knew Laurel must be really annoyed with me.
I don’t love having to be on my A-game all the time to keep her interest, but maybe once we’re settled into a relationship she’ll get easier. Sin is damn sure not on his A-game all the time, and she clearly liked him.
Regardless, tonight I can step it up. I brought her out to my restaurant, reser
ved my favorite booth with the view of the city. Laurel likes food, so feeding her is always a good idea.
Leaning in, she points to the menu. “I can’t decide what to order. Do I want pesto or alfredo?”
I grab her menu, closing it and putting it on the table. “I’ll pick for you.”
Smiling, she snuggles into my side. “Good deal.”
My arm tightens around her and fondness washes over me. I don’t like always having to work so hard for her little ass, but I do like the results.
Of course right then is when the servers come over. Servers, plural. When I requested my usual waitress, I completely forgot that I told them to train Marlena with her. Knowing Marlena’s waitressing skills aren’t quite up to snuff and not wanting my waitstaff to suffer from my good deed, I figured retraining her with my best waitress was a solid plan.
It is, but I also look a lot like a liar when she walks up to the table I’m sharing with my not-girlfriend and Laurel is snuggling me.
Marlena’s lips thin like she’s thinking the same thing, but she writes on her orderpad to avoid looking at me.
The snuggle ends the second Laurel recognizes her.
Turning to look at me with wide eyes, she asks, “What is she doing here?”
Had I been thinking far enough ahead, I might have been able to come up with something better than the truth. “I hired her.”
Laurel’s jaw drops open and she looks at me like she cannot believe my gall. Then she starts laughing. I’m starting to think Laurel laughs when she wants to murder me.
Before she can jump to the same conclusions Sin did, I say, “I got her fired. I had to make reparations.”
“I can’t believe no woman has murdered you yet. Is that why you stay single? It’s the only way to stay alive? Good strategy. At least you’re self-aware.”
Marlena’s face is flushed and my favorite waitress stands there with her eyes wide and her pen poised over the orderpad, not having a clue what the hell is going on. I hadn’t made it public knowledge in the restaurant that I specifically made them hire Marlena, because I didn’t want anyone she would be working with to draw inappropriate conclusions.
Everyone is drawing inappropriate conclusions.
Laurel shrugs my arm off and scoots away, but she must figure she has to eat, because instead of trying to leave, she tells the servers shortly, “Ice water to drink, chicken alfredo for my entrée.” Glancing at me, she says, “I’m going to the bathroom.”
Marlena backs up as Laurel scoots out, but Laurel turns to face her anyway. Marlena flushes even deeper as Laurel stares her down, then wordlessly turns and leaves the table.
My regular server is a champ, so she pretends none of that just happened and says, “And for you?”
I sigh, glancing after Laurel to see if she’s actually heading to the bathroom. After the sneaky exit she pulled over Sin, of all fucking people, I’m a little wary about trusting her. I wouldn’t put it past her to order just to throw me off, then leave me sitting here like an asshole while she flees the scene.
Since she does appear to be heading for the bathroom, I look at Marlena.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” she informs me.
“It’s fine,” I tell her.
“Clearly.”
Glancing at my favorite waitress, I tell her, “Don’t mention this to anyone else.”
Her discretion is a given, but she nods anyway and assures me, “My lips are sealed.”
“If she doesn’t come back in a few minutes…”
Nodding, she says, “I’ll go make sure she’s in the bathroom. Gotta wash my hands all the time anyway, you know.”
I’m going to give her a really big tip tonight. “Thank you, Virginia.”
She smiles faintly, gives me a thumbs-up, then heads for the bathroom to make sure my date hasn’t run away.
18
Laurel
Bracing myself on the sleek brown vanity and peering into the mirror, I contemplate whether or not Rafe will be standing outside the bathroom waiting for me when I open the door. I shouldn’t have come to the bathroom. While he was busy with the skank he bought the dress for, I should have high-tailed it out of this godforsaken restaurant.
My purse is on the countertop beside the sink. I open it and draw out my phone, opening my messages and starting a text to Sin.
“I hate Rafe. Come get me before I kill him in public.”
The message makes me feel a little better, but I backspace all of it. Obviously I can’t send that.
I type a new message, this one reading: “Is your house still equipped for a live-in hostage? Are you taking applications? I have references.”
I don’t delete that one, but I don’t send it, either.
The bathroom door swings open and I automatically shuffle over to the next sink as a woman with a brisk walk approaches the counter. I don’t look directly at her, so I don’t realize it’s the waitress—not the whore waitress, but the one who remembers my drink order from two months ago.
“You okay?” she inquires.
Avoiding her gaze, I nod my head and look in the mirror. I need something to do, so I reach into my handbag, depositing my phone and drawing out a tube of lipstick. Uncapping it, I run it over my lips, smacking them together and flashing her a smile. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“You don’t have to bullshit me,” she says. “I’m like a priest at confession; whatever you say goes into the vault and doesn’t come back out. If you need to vent, go for it.”
“I’m honestly fine. No venting needed. Just rethinking every life decision I have made over the past couple weeks, no big deal.”
The dark-haired waitress leans against the wall, nodding her head. “Understandable. I’m not privy to all the details, but between the tug-of-war with Rafe and Sin when he brought you to dinner and Miss Cotton Candy’s sudden appearance, it seems like Rafe is being a pretty enormous shithead.”
“Miss Cotton Candy?”
Nodding decisively, she says, “Marlena. Don’t worry about her. Dump a glass of water over her head and she’ll disintegrate. She’s boring as fuck; she just has Bambi eyes and a nice ass. I don’t think he’ll cheat, he just… he’s a flirt. I don’t think he can help it. I don’t think he’ll ever stop. It’s just a part of who he is. Always has been.” Her gaze drops to my stomach. “Are you pregnant?”
My eyes widen at the boldness of her question, but I detect a faint hint of resignation, too. I’m not entirely sure what to make of it, but there’s little point denying it. “Yeah.”
She nods. “Kinda figured when you stopped drinking alcohol and Rafe became a raging douche nozzle. He doesn’t want kids.”
I’m not sure how I should feel about the authority and familiarity with which she speaks about Rafe, like he’s a topic she has spent an enormous amount of time studying, and now she is the leading expert on the subject. “Yeah, I kind of picked up on that when I told him I was pregnant and he threw me out of his house.”
Grimacing, she says, “Ouch.”
“Yeah,” I mutter.
“He’s a really big dick sometimes. Not usually. This is not… I don’t know how long you’ve known him, but this is not how he is all the time. It’s just that sometimes he gets mean when something happens that throws him off, something he wasn’t entirely prepared for. Or if he gets bored and feels stuck. Or when his heart is broken. Okay, so there are a few scenarios during which he becomes a major asshole.”
Turning my back to the mirror, I lean against the sink and look her over. There’s a pink tint to her cheeks, a faint reddening around her ears. She’s pretty—not sex-pot pretty, like so many of the women Rafe surrounds himself with, but comfortably pretty. She looks no-nonsense and authoritative in her severe black button down and slacks, but she seems nicer than she looks—even as she tells me what a giant douche Rafe can be, I hear a silent “but” coming.
“But,” she finally says, crossing her arms over her chest, “Rafe can also be really,
really great, and he is so much of the time, it makes it easier to handle him when he sucks. He’s a guy; they all suck from time to time. At least when he sucks, you know he’ll come out of it. Rafe’s shitty side is like a storm that always clears up. He doesn’t stay a massive douche for long, and if you let him know he’s hurting your feelings, you’ll get more of a response. If he thinks you can handle yourself, he’ll let you, but if you express that you need him to be nicer to you, he will. I made the mistake of thinking he would respect it more if I held my tongue and kept a stiff upper lip, but I was wrong. He doesn’t value that. If you open up to him, he’s just… a waterfall of understanding. He’ll stop being a dick, all you have to do is ask—and I know, you shouldn’t have to ask, it should be a given, but… it’s just how he operates. For all that Rafe notices, the man closes his eyes to what’s right in front of him if he doesn’t want to see it. He’s really not a horrible person, though, I swear. I know it might feel that way to you right now, but… he isn’t. He’s really great.”
“You like him.”
It’s not a question because I’m not a moron, but she shakes her head, looking at me like a deer caught in the headlights. “What? No. Of course not. I mean…”
Offering a smile, I shake my head. “It’s fine. I wasn’t accusing you of anything. In my experience, every woman in this damned city likes Rafe, so… I won’t scratch your eyes out, no worries. How long have you known him?”
“Four years.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Four years?”
She shrugs, glancing down. “Just working here at his restaurant, we’re not best friends or anything.”
“Are you one of the three women in the city he hasn’t slept with?”
Smiling helplessly—like it’s adorable instead of gross—she nods her head. “I am one of those three, yes. It’s an exclusive group. We have membership cards. Meet-ups the second Friday of every month. It’s just me and two cat ladies. We have fun.”
