Page 115 of With a Cherry On Top

Cherry Lips

Ienter the nightclub, relieved when I confirm there are no strippers in sight. Just a dark, pulsing room, tables pushed to the edges, and a dance floor packed with bodies swaying to the deep bass of some song I don’t recognize. The air is thick—sweat, perfume, and alcohol blending into an intoxicating haze.

It’s been a decade since I stepped foot in a place like this, and judging by the fresh faces around me, I probably should have stayed away. But Logan’s wedding is just over a week away, and on this fateful Friday, everyone’s been forced out of the comfort of their homes and dragged here.

Some of us had much better plans. Like accepting a spunky red-head’s invitation to go see her show, then spend the night at my place. Charlotte’s been gone for a shoot for the last two days, and I miss her more than I thought possible. More than I find bearable.

She’s texted a couple of times, but it’s not enough. Not after the last time I saw her, when I returned the panties she used to jerk me off.

Kyle, the ringleader in this situation, waves me over from a table to my right, his expression already loose with alcohol. Nextto him, Logan glares at his beer like it personally offended him, while Shane sits stiffly, clearly wishing he were anywhere else.

This should be interesting.

“Hey,” I say, sliding into the seat next to Shane. Kyle immediately grabs the pitcher and fills my glass, shoving it toward me like he’s on a mission. “How’s it going?”

He grimaces. “No one is nearly drunk enough.”

I take a sip, the bitter taste of the beer washing off a little of my nerves. Logan and I haven’t talked since our fight last Sunday, so I’m not sure what to expect. But as he gives me a curt nod, I realize that maybe I should expect nothing, because things will continue to be exactly like they have been.

Kyle is shouting something about his culture of pumpkins over the thumping music, and Shane and Logan lean in, intrigued.

Not exactly what I pictured for the night, not that I’m complaining.

“For the record,” someone says behind me, right before a firm slap lands on the back of my head. “My wife doesn’t have a bad side.”

I wince and turn. “Ian?” I say, rubbing the spot that stings. “What?I didn’t know you were coming.”

He smirks. “Yeah, well. I figured Logan would be even more displeased with the surprise.”

I glance at Logan, who just lifts his glass and takes a long-suffering sip. Fair enough.

I pat his shoulder. “How’s Amelie?”

Ian brings a hand to his chest. “Yes, Iamgreat. Thank you for asking.” Then his grin widens. “Amelie’s kicking ass. They already asked her to come back for the next four seasons. Of course, you’d know all of this if you bothered to answer her messages.”

Oh, so she told him about that, huh?

“I, uh . . . I’ve been really busy, and?—”

“Don’t.” He motions behind me. “You can tell her yourself.”

My head snaps up. “Wait, what? She’s here too?”

“She’s at Prim’s bachelorette. Right there.” As I turn to the direction he’s pointing to, he adds, “We’re heading back in the morning.”

There she is—next to Primrose, Heaven, and a few women I’ve never seen before. Bright, colorful drinks in their hands, sequins catching the dim lights. They look like they belong here. Like they’re having the right kind of fun for a place like this. No mention of pumpkins in that conversation, I’m sure.

“Wait,” I say. “Both parties are here?”

Ian shrugs. “Kyle says it was the only way to convince Logan to come.”

Yeah, that checks out.

“Well, I’ll go—” I begin, but Ian’s hand clamps around my arm before I can rise from my stool.

“Not so fast, cowboy.” His grip is firm, almost amused. “No boys allowed.”

Oh. I sink back into my seat, mildly annoyed. I’d never really thought about it before Kyle said it, but Ameliehasbecome my best friend. After spending so much time together over the last year, not seeing her in weeks—not even talking, though that’s my own fault—has made me miss her.