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I turn my attention back to her. “When you’re ready, I’ll give you an exclusive interview.”
“And?”
“Anda photo shoot,” I add.
An adorable grin slides over her lips. “Thank you. I’ll ensure your story is told the way it should be told. Your truth.”
“Thanks,” I offer.
I’m doing this because I gave her my word and she was an integral part of the puzzle.
Not to mention, when it comes to my brother, I genuinely want the absolute fucking best for him. Sometimes, lovebirds must bepushedfrom the nest to see if they’ll fly together. We were lucky they did; otherwise, they would’ve destroyed each other. I was willing to risk it. Easton and Lexi were their worst enemy, and it took finding one another to realize that. Divine timing might have brought Carlee and me together for several reasons; the first was to help two people we care about. The second …well …
“We should start a business together,” I say when a beer commercial fills the screen.
“The two of us? And do what?” she asks.
“Matchmaking. Could beextremelylucrative, considering how good we are at it.”
She laughs, meeting my eyes. I see how the corners soften. “You’renotserious.”
“We’reone for one. Have a perfect record to date. It’s painfully easy to see when two people would be perfect for oneanother,” I say, glancing over at her, wondering if she’s catching any hints I’m throwing her way.
She narrows her eyes. “Weston, youmarriedanactualsnake. Hell, she might even be Satan.”
After she opened up, Carlee explained why she wasn’t a fan of my ex and how she knew Lena was a narcissistic bitch. Her words, not mine, but I agree. I’ve never publicly discussed why I asked for a divorce. Easton knows, but that’s it. The rest is speculation, rumors spread to discredit me and my image. Eventually, I’ll tell Carlee everything, as I promised, because I’ll never lie to this woman. Based on what she’s shared, she’s dealt with enough of that from men.
“You and I know some people are incredible at masking their true selves.”
“Or maybe you’re too busy looking for the good in people when they’re clearly showing you they’re a monster.” She shrugs. “There were signs. You lacked boundaries.”
“Damn,” I tell her. “How much do I owe you for my therapy session?”
Carlee bursts into laughter before it slightly fades. “I think that’s the first time I’ve laughed all week.”
“With all the clowns you deal with?” I shake my head. “That’s ashame.”
The bartender stops by, and I order a round of tequila. It’s our tradition, the last shot of the night before we say our goodbyes.
“We don’t base our expertise onourtrack records, just the people we hook up,” I explain.
“Hmm. What if we created averyspecific survey and paired people together like it’s a virtual wine tasting?”
I nod. “Or we could host a speed-dating meetup where all the sameflavorsare in attendance. It’s different, chatting withsomeone online than in person. In person, you can feel when sparks fly.”
When I’m with her, we talk about life without judgment, and it feels like a genuine relationship. She’s not afraid to be honest, and she isn’t trying to impress me, and it feels like a friend zone.
We’re two lonely people who meet once a week to drink and talk about nothing. It sounds depressing.
Our weekly meetup started on a random Monday night two monthsbeforeEaston and Lexi crashed into one another. The only time I’ve ever missed was when I was in South Africa. I realized, thanks to my brother pointing it out, I’d desperately looked forward to seeingherevery week.
While I wait for the bartender to return, I scroll on my phone, glancing over pictures of my brother and Lexi. “They are good together.”
She leans over and glances at the screen. “They are. I can’t believe they have so much in common. They’re like thesameperson.”
“I didn’t think it was possible, but yeah. They’re a match made in a Brooklyn dive bar after a drunk night and an almost hookup,” I say with a chuckle.
“I wasn’t going to hook up with you,” she states. “I stupidly tried to kiss you, but then realized you were a fuckboy.”