My Bestie's Ex

by Piper Rayne

  My Bestie’s Ex

  Piper Rayne

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  © 2020 by Piper Rayne

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Cover Photo: Wander Aguiar Photography

  Cover Design: By Hang Le

  Line Editor: My Brother’s Editor

  Proofreader: Shawna Gavas, Behind The Writer

  My Bestie’s Ex

  *

  I can’t borrow him.

  He’s not a sweater or a skirt.

  He’s not even her favorite dress—the lucky one she wears on first dates. The one she probably wore on her first date with him.

  *

  In my defense, I didn’t know who he was. To me, he was a cool, calm, confident stranger. He was perfection for the entire hour and a half train ride while the concrete jungle turned into a rolling green landscape.

  *

  To an outsider, we probably appeared more friends than hopeful lovers. But my blush came quickly, and his dimples indented with every smile. We definitely shared a spark of what could be.

  *

  Too bad I didn’t know who he was before I fell for him, because he can’t be mine.

  Contents

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  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  Freebie

  Cockamamie Unicorn Ramblings

  About the Author

  Also by Piper Rayne

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  *

  Prologue

  Blanca

  You know the saying… when one door closes another door opens?

  I’m assuming that applies even if you choose to close the door yourself, right? Don’t answer that. I’m gonna go with it because I prefer to live in fantasyland. Especially lately.

  After quitting my finance job—the one I spent four years in college earning a degree in—I kyboshed my future in banking.

  I wasn’t all that stellar at it anyway. I wasn’t horrible, but I wasn’t the shiny new graduate who followed my boss’s loafers like he was my master either. News flash, numbers are boring. Sure, my brother Dom gets a hard-on for them and so did most of my co-workers which should’ve been my first sign that I was the round peg forcing myself into a square hole.

  That’s all why I thought that the day I reconnected with Sierra could be a sign even though I don’t usually believe in them.

  I hadn’t seen Sierra Sanders for years. Sure, we were friends on Instagram and Snapchat. A heart here and a comment there. ‘You haven’t changed at all!’ Promises of future get-togethers that never happened.

  But after my two weeks’ notice was up I headed out the doors of the building in the financial district of Manhattan with my big box of personal items. I’m Italian and I like to be homey at the office, don’t judge. And BAM. There’s Sierra Sanders, my childhood best friend from the neighborhood just sitting there under a tree with the sun shining down on her like she was waiting for me.

  Okay, disclaimer. She wasn’t waiting for me. She was actually talking with someone and she wasn’t exactly sitting under the tree, she was standing by it with a camera aimed at her. I should mention, she’s a reporter for a small station outside the city.

  I hovered and waited for her to finish talking to the arborist about the trees while the same picketers from last month corral behind him, fighting to fit their faces in the small camera frame to show their opposition to removing the original trees that had succumbed to some beetle invasion or another.

  I thought maybe we could catch up over a cup of coffee or dinner. Or if she was heading to her dads, I could tag along with her on the train. Mama’s never upset over a surprise visit.

  “Sierra!” I waved from the top of the stairs once she finished.

  She looked around, finding me standing there and squinted. Yeah, that’s how long it’d been for us. We were the usual story of separate colleges tearing us apart after we swore they never would.

  “Blanca?” She handed the mic to the camera guy and headed into my direction.

  We met at the bottom of the concrete steps and she went in for a hug, but my box made it awkward, so she stopped trying after five attempts at different angles. Her eyes dipped to the contents of the box and her shoulders slumped.

  “I’m sorry.” She ran a hand along my arm.

  “Don’t be. I quit.”

  Her eyes lit up and her back straightened. “Where are you off to next?”

  I waved her off. “I don’t know yet, but that place was sucking the life out of me.”

  “Then we need to celebrate. Come on.”

  Before I could process what was happening, she told the camera guy to hop on the next train, and they’d go over the tape tomorrow. We walked over to a corner restaurant who was preparing for their dinner rush of traders and wannabe high rollers on Wall Street.

  By the end of the conversation that was mostly about me, Sierra had opened the proverbial door for me.

  “Move to Cliffton Heights. It’s so beautiful and you’re only an hour and a half train ride out of the city. You’ll be close to those heartthrob brothers and your parents. It’s perfect really because we just had a roommate leave.” The more she talked, the more excited we both became about the idea of us rekindling our friendship. “Oh my God, it’d be like what we always planned before you decided to switch colleges at the last minute.”

  Oh shit, that’s why we kind of fell out of touch. I had forgotten. We had been all set to room together right before we graduated, and I switched course. That pissed her off because she had to room with a stranger. Can’t say I blame her.

  “My other roommate, Rian, is awesome. Bakes all the time. She writes math textbooks for a living so it’s not like we party all the time. But we have fun too and oh, come on. I’ve missed you so much!”

  She begged and pleaded. I’d always considered myself a New York City girl. But at that point in my life, watching my brothers’ fairy tales grow sweeter while I had no one and nothing, a fresh start sounded perfect. A change of scenery. A place to reinvent myself. And I missed her too.

  “I’d love to,” I said without even having a job to pay the rent. I knew some people commuted to the city, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to ride the train for three hours a day. But that was a problem for another day. The first of many.

  Let me tell you, hindsight really is twenty-twenty and it comes back to bite you in the ass, because now, months later, I wish I would’ve pried her for more information. I should’ve asked more quest
ions because it wasn’t just Sierra and a new beginning on the other side of that proverbial door—he was standing there too. And he was already a part of Sierra’s life. Sure, her past life, but hers all the same.

  Chapter One

  Blanca

  I trudge up the steps of the train, smile at the conductor and walk through the doors to the seating area. With an ‘oomph’ I fall into the last seat of the last car on the last train from New York City. Destination: my new home, Cliffton Heights.

  With me is a container of meatballs from my family’s Sunday night dinner and I place my jacket over the container to try and stop the smell from leaking throughout the train car—an impossible feat.

  My phone dings so I pull it out of my bag. Of course it’s from my oldest brother in the thread we share with our other two brothers.

  Dom: You on the train?

  *

  Me: Yeah.

  *

  Carm: Don’t talk to strangers.

  *

  Me: Okay. eye roll emoji

  *

  Enzo: Text us as soon as you get into your apartment.

  *

  Me: Sure thing. military salute emoji

  You’d think they’d trust me more than they do, what with me being twenty-eight and all. To them, I’ll always be the baby sister.

  Enzo: I have no idea why you wouldn’t let us just pay for an Uber.

  Enzo is the second born and probably the most paranoid about safety. I’m out of the big city now, but moving an hour and a half train ride away is apparently more nerve-wracking than when I was smack dab in the middle of New York City. I even gave them the stats on crime in Cliffton Heights compared to New York. But to them, Cliffton Heights is a foreign land and until they come and see how beautiful it is, and most importantly how safe, I should expect nothing less from them.

  Me: Because I’m an adult and I enjoy the train.

  *

  Carm: Don’t pick anyone up.

  *

  Me: Oh, and here I was unbuttoning my blouse to entice the slumped over gentleman three rows in front of me.

  Carm is the youngest of my brothers but still older than me. He’s probably laughing right now, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t share the same form of overprotectiveness as the other two.

  My only saving grace lately is they all have women in their lives now who they need to worry about more than me.

  Me: I’m going to rest. Dinner was great. Catch you guys next week. Love you.

  *

  Dom: Don’t shut your eyes on a train full of strangers!

  I shake my head, looking at the only other man riding in the car with me. He’s either passed out or dead. Not much of a threat.

  Me: I won’t. Someone might steal Mama’s meatballs.

  *

  Enzo: Those are hot commodities.

  *

  Carm: I’m snacking on them right now.

  *

  Dom: We just ate.

  *

  Carm: Like an hour ago.

  *

  Me: I’m putting my phone in my purse, so no one tries to steal it.

  *

  Enzo: Good idea but keep it within reach just in case.

  *

  Me: Bye guys.

  *

  Carm: See you.

  *

  Dom: Love you, sis.

  *

  Enzo: Remember to text us when you’re in your apartment.

  *

  Me: Aye, aye captain.

  I click the button on my screen and toss my phone into my purse.

  The conductor comes on the speaker to announce the name of the train line and route we’re on before the train jolts to a start. I close my eyes and lean my head against the vinyl seat. Even with the ladies in my brothers’ lives helping me in the kitchen on Sundays, I’m still tired. My hands are dry from the dish soap like they always are. Doesn’t seem to matter how thick I lather the lotion on afterward. My stomach is bloated from all the salt in Mama’s food.

  My family is the typical Italian family. Big dinners, big personalities—big everything. Mama is over the moon about my brothers finding the love of their lives. Dom and his wife, Valentina, are expecting the first grandchild. Annie and Enzo are planning their wedding. And I’d bet Carm has a ring for Bella already hidden, ready for an impromptu proposal.

  All three of my brothers are successful. We’re talking advertising executive, high-end real estate broker, and a Wall Street trader. They have more money in their bank accounts than I’ll probably ever see in my lifetime.

  “HOLD UP!” I hear someone yell and my eyes pop open. There’s a man running alongside the train like in one of those romance movies where the guy has to get on the train to declare his love for the woman of his dreams.

  He has a backpack secured on and carrying a plastic bag similar to mine filled with Tupperware. Inching toward the glass, I watch him grab the metal handle of the train, running along like he’s trying to rev up more energy to make the final jump. Oh shit, he’s going to hit the steel beam. His feet move faster and just before, he jumps on the step and the train breezes by the steel beam.

  I mentally hope he decides to come on this car instead of the one in front of me. I’d like to see the type of guy who can pull off that stunt like he’s filming a movie.

  Sliding to the edge of my bench seat, I tip my head to see him and the conductor talking through the residue covered glass window. He hands him a plastic container and the two do some type of handshake before he mindlessly presses the button for the doors of my car to open.

  He steps into the car that only holds me, a passed out guy and the smell of my mama’s Italian sauce. All the air rushes out of my lungs. He’s drop-dead sexy. I have no idea how to describe him. He’s gorgeous. Light brown hair that sticks straight up on top and trimmed on the sides. Enough scruff to make my thighs shake with want. Ripped jeans, a dark button-down and a pair of sneakers. So casual and so mouthwatering at the same time.

  Just when I’m about to slide over and beg him to sit with me, his lips tip, his mouth opens in the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen on a man. Perfect straight white teeth. Damn, I’m not sure I’ve ever been this attracted to someone before. It’s not even just him. It’s how he’s looking at me. Like he’s been searching all over the world for me and he just found me.

  “You’re new?” He opens up the plastic bag and places a Tupperware container next to the man passed out.

  “Do you know everyone who rides the train?” I ask and he keeps walking toward me and I find myself holding my breath the nearer he comes because with every step, my heart beats a touch faster.

  “I know everyone who rides the last train on Sunday night. Yes.” He slides his backpack off, sitting in the seat right in front of me. He leans his back against the train window and extends his feet along the bench of the seat. “That’s Gil.” He nods toward the sleeping man. “He’ll be getting off at Peekskill.”

  I lean forward. “Is he okay?”

  He laughs like I’m not crazy for asking. “Yeah. Watch. He’ll get up at Peekskill without anyone waking him up.” He bends forward and I hear the plastic of the bag rustling. “You hungry?” He holds up a third Tupperware container.

  “No, thanks.”

  He nods. “Good idea not to take food from a guy on a train that you don’t know. Someone taught you well.” His smile deepens and a dimple forms in his right cheek. Seriously, who sent this man my way, the train fairy?

  “I have my own anyway.” I lift my jacket and he peeks over the seat.

  “What is it?”

  I open my container of meatballs. “Italian.”

  He sighs and his hand moves across the seat, grabbing a meatball with his finger and thumb, the sauce is about to drip right before his head falls back and he drops it into his mouth like a cherry. Please tell me he gets off early because my libido is revving in overdrive and it’s going to stall out soon.

  “Aren’t you afraid of taking fo
od from a stranger on a train?”

  “Nah. You look sweet. Something tells me you didn’t bring food on the train to poison a random stranger.”

  He’s funny. And so at ease and free-spirited.

  “It’s my mama’s and if she knew I was sharing with you, she’d want me to tell you that there’s something off in her meatballs tonight. Unfortunately, she’ll figure it out at midnight and feel the need to text me.”

  He retrieves a bottle of water. “Nothing wrong that I can tell.”

  “Too much garlic. It’s overpowering the meat. My brother miscalculated.”

  He stares at me for a moment and I cross my legs, becoming uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “If you knew, why didn’t you say anything?”

  I shrug. “I like garlic?”

  His eyes narrow, but in a teasing you-intrigue-me way. “Sibling rivalry. I get it.” He sips his water as I admire his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down and secures the cap on the bottle.

  His eyes fall back on me and I straighten my back like I wasn’t just ogling him. “I don’t have sibling rivalry.”

  “Okay.” He lifts a Tupperware container up over the seat. “Try one of these.”

  I raise my hand. “I’m okay, but thank you.”

  “Come on. I promise they aren’t poisoned. I tried the staple of your culture. Try mine?”

  “Shrimp?”

  “Garlic prawns.” He moves it closer and though my stomach says no more food, my eyes say damn that looks good. When my nose joins in on the debate, I raise my hand to grab one.

  If my brothers saw me, they’d knock it out of my hand saying I’m crazy and what am I thinking. I laugh imagining the whole scenario.