Waking up in Vegas

by Natasha Preston

  She shrugs.

  “I never had one,” Rachel says. “But as soon as I met Graham, I knew I was going to marry him.”

  “How cute,” Wren replies sarcastically.

  “You’ll get it one day,” Rachel says.

  Wren drops her head and focuses a little too hard on a dinner she’s barely touched.

  “What about you, Brody?”

  “My type?” I ask Rachel, and she nods. “Blonde, beautiful, stubborn…”

  Wren suddenly looks up.

  “I want the attraction to come from nowhere and knock me off my feet.”

  “I love that,” Rachel says dreamily. “You’ll find her when you least expect it.”

  Don’t I fucking know it.

  “Does she have to be blonde? What if you’re looking in the wrong places?” Rachel asks.

  “I’m not looking,” I tell her.

  I’m not ready for a relationship. I don’t want one with Wren, but I also don’t want her to be with anyone else. Yeah, I know how much of a prick that makes me, but that’s how I feel. I guess at least until the divorce is over, everything about her dating seems wrong. And I have no plans to sleep around.

  Sleeping with her does not count.

  “What would you even do with a girlfriend, Brody?” Wren asks. Her voice has a teasing tone, but there is a heaviness behind the words that I know isn’t playful.

  “Honey,” Rachel says to her, playfully tapping her arm. “We all have a first relationship, and we all learn how to be in one. You’ll make a great boyfriend when you want to settle down, Brody; I know that.”

  I hear Rachel’s words, but I’m too focused on the little dig from Wren to respond. What the fuck was the point in saying that? She’s told me herself that she’s not looking for anything right now.

  Jesus, this whole situation is one massive headfuck.

  “This is so good,” I tell Rachel, lifting a forkful of mince and sauce.

  “Glad you’re enjoying it.”

  Wren stuffs a mouthful of bread in and avoids eye contact with me. I’ve really pissed her off, but I feel like all we need is one big, open conversation to sort it out. There’s no point in second-guessing each other because it only leads to this animosity.

  We finish up, and Rachel stands. “You two wait right there while I cut us all a piece of lemon cake.”

  “I’ll help clean up,” I say.

  “No, you stay. I’ve got the plates. The rest can wait until after dessert.”

  I stay where I am because she means it.

  The door slides closed behind her.

  “What was that?”

  Wren’s shoulders slump. “I don’t know.”

  “Please know.”

  She runs her hands through her hair and takes a long breath. “You want to sleep together.”

  “That’s no secret.”

  “But can’t you understand how that sounds? I’m good for a fuck while we’re still married, and then when your legal freedom comes through, you’re safe to put it about wherever you want.”

  “What?”

  Fucking hell, that’s what she thinks?

  “Don’t worry about it, Brody. Plenty of people move on before a divorce is final, and we were never together in the first place. Go and do what you want, guilt-free.”

  “Wren, no, that’s not what I’m saying.” I rub my forehead. I’ve screwed this up. “I never said I only want you to fuck until the divorce. It doesn’t feel right to me, having sex with other women while we’re still married, but I don’t want you just because I can’t go that long.”

  He eyebrows knit together. “Then, what are you saying?”

  “I want…” Wow. What do I want?

  “What, Brody?”

  “I don’t know exactly.”

  She rolls her eyes. “All you know is that you want us to have sex again. Yeah, I get that. I feel that, too, but it’s not going to happen. I’m no one’s fuck buddy.”

  “I’m not asking you to be my fuck buddy.” Why are we having this conversation?

  “Oh my God!” She takes another breath. “Then, what are you saying? Seriously, I am so confused, and it’s driving me crazy.”

  “It’s driving me crazy!”

  “Okay.” She closes her eyes and breathes. “Look, I think we need to forget this.”

  “We’re a little past that,” I remind her.

  She glares, eyes trying to shoot daggers at me. “The sex thing. We need to go back to friends, so this doesn’t get any messier. We’ll handle the divorce in the background. Let’s keep this clean and say we’re both single in all respects, so if you see a girl you like, go for it, and I’ll do the same if I find a guy I like.”

  “That’s keeping it clean?” I question. What planet is she on?

  “That’s how it’s always been. We’ve involved the divorce too much, and it doesn’t work. I don’t want to be annoyed with you, and I definitely don’t want us falling out, which is what will happen if we let the divorce take over our lives.”

  We were supposed to be ignoring it, but it’s still the centre of everything.

  I grip my glass of Coke a little too hard. “So, we’re the same as before we went to Vegas, and we will only mention the divorce when we absolutely have to. We’re single.”

  She nods. “Yeah, we have to be.”

  Logically, it makes sense. I mean, we don’t need restraint with other people. You only need that if you’re in a relationship. Wren is one hundred percent right in what she’s saying.

  But her words feel like razor blades slicing deep through every layer of my skin.

  Thirty-Two

  Wren

  Brody left shortly after Mum’s famous lemon cake. I feel somewhat better since we cleared the air. We have made it too complicated when it doesn’t need to be. But this odd buzzing in my stomach still hasn’t gone anywhere.

  The divorce doesn’t need to be a factor in our lives at all. It’s just something there that will be dealt with and be over soon. It doesn’t mean that we need to put anything on hold. Okay, I don’t like that he could be out with whoever he wants, but it’s right that he can be.

  This is the only way I can think of to handle the situation and keep our friendship. We’re too close, too bound together by our families, to allow this mistake to ruin us.

  That is exactly where we would be headed if we gave in to the sexual tension that has almost taken on a physical form, tugging us together. We’ve both been annoyed with each other more in these last two weeks than our entire lives.

  I’m in my room, about to Skype with Mila and Indie. I’m sitting on my bed, cross-legged, waiting for those bitches to connect. We agreed on a time, and they’re late. They’re always telling me off for being the late one to the party. Now I’m the one who is early.

  “Hey,” Mila says. Her bright amber eyes are the first thing I see, followed by her long black waves.

  “Hey, Mila. How’s Canada?”

  Mila is currently visiting her aunt and uncle who emigrated a few years ago.

  “It’s awesome. I’m loving it. The guys here are gorgeous. How’re things with Brody?”

  “I’ll wait for Indie to tell you that.”

  Mila’s head tilts to the side. “Is it juicy?”

  “You’re such a gossip.”

  “Ugh, hurry up, Indie.”

  Indie picks that exact moment to join. “I’m here! I’m here! How are you guys?”

  Mila throws her hands up. “Wren has Brody gossip!”

  “Over to you, Wren,” Indie says, leaning closer to the screen.

  “Please tell me you’re continuing to have sex with him,” Mila says, pressing her palms together.

  “No, that was one time,” I confirm. “Though he’s said he wants more, and I do, too, but it would be really complicated.”

  “Oh my God, girl! Why would it be complicated? You’re both adults,” Mila says, her eyes as wide as saucers.

  “We’re adults who are gett
ing divorced. The lawyers have started the process for us.” I shake my head. “Ugh, I’m going to be divorced at eighteen.” Actually, I’ll likely be twenty before it’s finalised.

  “Well, babe, all the cool people are. Celebs do this all the time,” Indie tells me.

  “I’m not a celebrity. I’m just a tit who got wasted and married.”

  Mila bites her lip, suppressing a grin. She clearly thinks it’s cool to get married in Vegas to your brother’s friend.

  “I can’t believe you’re getting divorced,” Indie says.

  “I can’t believe she got married,” Mila replies.

  “Neither can I, but here we are.”

  Mila frowns. “So, Brody still wants you in his bed after all of this, and you’re actually turning him down?”

  “Don’t do that,” I tell her.

  Mila is a romantic, always looking for people falling in love.

  “We had good sex and that’s it. I think he feels weird about sleeping around when he’s technically married to someone, even someone he doesn’t want to be married to. So, the answer is us having sex rather than him keeping it in his pants.”

  Mila frowns. “Are you sure that’s it? Because, no offence to him, he doesn’t seem like the guy who would hold back, especially since you’re getting a divorce.”

  “Mila, I love you, but get this out of your head.”

  She sighs. “Can you not even have a conversation with him and find out how he feels?”

  Indie laughs. “I’m Team Mila on this. You and Brody make a gorgeous couple.”

  “We’re not a couple and we never have been.”

  “That doesn’t mean you never will be. Sure, you’re kind of doing things massively out of order here, but if you like each other, you shouldn’t let a little thing like a marriage get in your way.”

  Mila’s words sound ridiculous. She must be able to hear them herself. A little thing like a marriage. That’s hardly small.

  “Brody has never been in a relationship; I don’t think he should start with a marriage. I can’t be his experiment girlfriend to see if he likes monogamy or not. The dynamic between my family and his would change forever if things didn’t work out between us. It’s not something I can risk.”

  Mila groans. “But what if it works out?”

  “It won’t, Mila. Focus on Indie and Spencer.”

  Indie turns her nose up. “We’re just friends.”

  Spencer is big news in our town and another, more well-known town that is Hollywood. He always loved acting and had small parts in a few TV shows during high school, and then he got his big break last year. Now, he’s set to be Hollywood’s next golden boy. He’s a year older than us girls, but he has been Indie’s best friend since he moved next door to her, like, ten years ago. She keeps a lot close to her chest, but she’s always opened up about Spencer.

  “What’s happening there?” I ask, glad for a break from the Brody thing.

  “Not much. I haven’t heard from him in a while.”

  “He must be super busy,” Mila says. “Isn’t he in the middle of filming?”

  “Yep. So busy that he must go straight from set to bed, no time in the middle to send a five-second text.” She shakes her head, a look of pain consuming her face. “Whatever. It’s not like I’m sitting around, waiting for him to call.”

  I get the impression that she has been sitting around waiting for him to call. Spencer has been everything to her for so long. Her family isn’t close, from what I can figure. I’ve known her for six years, and I’ve never met anyone of them. All she really says is that they don’t talk.

  Though she lives with her parents still.

  Whenever we hang out, it’s at my house or Mila’s, or we go out. I don’t even think Spencer has been inside her place. And I have never really spoken to him much, not about family and stuff.

  It’s a big mystery that I wish she would share because something is obviously wrong. But Mila and I respect her need for privacy. I suppose she will tell us if and when she’s ready.

  Doesn’t stop me from wondering.

  “Why don’t you call him?” I ask.

  “Why don’t you talk to Brody?” she shoots back, arching her eyebrow.

  Wow, okay. I get it. Sometimes, it’s too scary to have a conversation, so you keep quiet and accept limbo.

  Holding my palms up, I mutter, “All right.”

  “We need to meet up next week,” Mila says. “I’ll need a day to get over my jet lag but definitely soon.”

  Indie and I both agree.

  “How’s the holiday going, Mila? Your family enjoying it?” I ask.

  “It’s good. Is it sad that I still like family holidays?”

  “Not if they pay,” I reply.

  Indie says nothing.

  “I need to go,” I tell them. “Unless you guys need anything?”

  Neither of them does, so we say bye, and I close my laptop.

  I lie down, and my stomach uncoils. I’m glad I told them. It’s different having my friends know compared to Felicity and Emma. I can tell my girls how much I want to get naked with Brody again.

  It takes about thirty seconds, but my phone beeps once, twice, three times. It’s Indie and Mila, reacting again to the news of Brody “wanting me.” He wants my body. It is not the same thing.

  Laughing, I shake my head and close my eyes. I’ll deal with that tomorrow.

  Thirty-Three

  Brody

  I watch Wren closely like she’s a fucking bomb about to go off. We’ve left her lawyer appointment, and although she had a lot of questions for us, she didn’t try to push Wren to take my shit.

  It was appreciated by both of us. The woman respected that we had had a conversation and both knew what we wanted from the divorce—which is only for the marriage to go away.

  We’re now sitting in a café, having a coffee and a bit of a debrief before I take us home. There’s a massive element of déjà vu here, but we’re not drinking beer, and I’m not going to mention wanting to sleep with her again.

  She’s made it clear where she stands, and I have to accept that. For now.

  Even if I don’t want to.

  Our relationship feels so fragile, like it’s made of glass and one wrong move could shatter it for good. Even if we repaired the glass, the cracks would always be underneath the glue.

  From that perspective, I get it. I can’t lose her, and I don’t want to risk our relationship being broken beyond repair.

  “You all right?” I ask as she silently sips her latte.

  “I think so. At least this one didn’t judge us like the last one.”

  I grin. “I bet she did. She’s just better at hiding it.”

  “Yeah, maybe. You good?”

  I nod.

  “Brody, about the other day at mine… I’m sorry I was off with you at dinner.”

  “It’s fine.”

  She smiles sadly. “Not really. I put a lot on you that day, and it wasn’t fair. None of this is your fault, not any more than it’s mine. It’s hard, navigating this divorce situation and the other one.”

  “What other one?” I ask, frowning.

  “The sex one.”

  “Those are separate situations?”

  “I think so. Unless, after the divorce, you think you won’t want us to jump back into bed?” She bites her lip and puts her mug down.

  “No. I’ll still want that,” I say, eyeing her with caution.

  “Then, it’s a separate issue.”

  What is happening? “It’s an issue now? You made it very clear that we are strictly friends and need to forget the attraction.”

  Her eyes meet mine, and for the first time, all I see is vulnerability in her gaze. “I said we need to not act upon it. I can’t forget it.”

  “Wren, you’re opening a door you said you wanted me to lock.”

  “I know,” she groans, dropping her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

  “Now I’m the one who is confused.”
>
  She offers a weak smile. “I haven’t stopped being confused yet, if that helps?”

  I shake my head. “It doesn’t. Why are you bringing this up again?”

  “I’m sorry. That was my bad. It’s not easy today.”

  “What isn’t easy?”

  Fucking hell, she is messing with my mind.

  “You show up, looking like that, and touch my back when you open doors for me.”

  “That’s hardly a striptease, Wren.”

  “You don’t know what your touch does to me,” she snaps. Her face crumples in a wince, and she turns her head away. “Great.”

  “Wren?”

  “I’m a fucking idiot, and now it’s my fault we’re having this conversation. This is Groundhog Day, and we’re going to be doing this forever. Why did we even bother to say we’d put it behind us? It was my idea, yet here I am, picking at old wounds. I’m such a girl and it sucks.”

  “Okay, stop before you start crying and I have to try and deal with that shit.”

  She folds her arms. “I’m not that emotional, Brody.”

  “Tell that to the meltdown you just had.”

  “Thank you. I’m not as attracted to you now.”

  Rolling my eyes, I take a sip of coffee. I shouldn’t enjoy this, but knowing she’s struggling over there, too, is everything.

  “Are you driving tomorrow?” I ask.

  “What?”

  “The wedding reception.”

  “No, Dad is. Why?”

  “I think my dad is also.”

  “What are you doing, Brody?”

  “Safe subject. Question: are shorts okay at a wedding reception?”

  “I guess. It’s outside in the forest, and it’s meant to be hot. Emma has a long dress, and she is going to regret it,” Wren says, coming on board with my subject change.

  Does that mean she’s wearing a short dress?

  Don’t think about that.

  “Are you looking forward to it?” I ask rather than questioning how insane the length of her dress is going to send me.

  “Yeah, it’ll be good. As long as we don’t get too drunk.” She grins, and her light eyes shine.