Page 18

chapter eleven

Jillian

T he bassline of “Vigilante Shit” rattled the full-length mirror in my bedroom that afternoon, where the sun sliced through my open blinds, creating golden stripes on the floor.

I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the fluttery cap sleeves of my blue gingham sundress—the one Meghan once said made me look like a slutty milkmaid. It was snug in all the right places, and my breasts practically spilled out of the top. I wasn’t exactly upset about it.

Tucked into the wooden frame of my mirror were pastel affirmation cards with phrases like, I choose my own path , and I radiate love and positivity . But my favorite was the one I’d written myself: I’m Jillian Fucking Taylor.

I tilted my head, smoothing my hands down my waist. The fabric hugged my curves, cinching at my narrowest point and flaring out over my hips.

This dress made me feel soft and feminine, like I belonged on my parents’ sunny veranda back in Tennessee with a glass of sweet tea in one hand and a paper fan in the other. I could almost smell the honeysuckle.

It was just a dress. But it made me feel like the best version of myself.

And while I harbored no hard feelings toward Xander, this was a dress that said, “Look at what you fumbled.” There was no harm in showing him what he was missing, right?

And if it caught a certain CEO’s attention, that was just an added bonus.

Maybe it was too much?

“No,” I said to my reflection as I grabbed my purse from my bed. “You’re Jillian Fucking Taylor. Act like it.”

Being the last person to arrive wasn’t a mistake. I could almost hear my mom’s southern drawl in my head as I walked into the Gardners’ house. “A lady’s never late. She just knows the perfect moment to make an entrance.”

The women were already in the backyard, and the guys were just getting started with their poker game.

Owen dealt the first hand as I made my way through the kitchen.

Graham wasn’t the only new addition to the group—Sean from the comic book store was there, too, and I was delighted to see his wife just beyond the sliding glass door.

But as eager as I was to talk to Erika, I had to make a pitstop at that poker table.

I made a beeline for Graham, having planned out exactly what to say during the drive over. “Olivia shared a secret about you today, Graham,” I said, draping my hand on the back of his chair.

“Oh, shit.” He held his cards to his chest and looked up at my face—and then at my chest—and then at my face again.

With a quick glance across the table, I caught Xander watching me closely.

He wasn’t even picking up the cards he’d just been dealt, and he wore a scowl on his face.

To my right, Owen was suddenly very interested in his smartwatch, and the other guys were fighting for their lives to keep their eyes on their cards.

I had Graham’s full attention, though. Looking down at him like this, I could really see the gold flecks in his brown eyes. “I knew her working with you was going to be a problem,” he said, lowering his cards to his lap. “I’m scared.”

“You should be. Because now I have leverage.” The secret was that he belted out Tom Petty songs on road trips, but I was prepared to let him worry it was something far more embarrassing. “Now, if you don’t grant me time off, I can threaten to tell these guys all your dirty little secrets.”

A playful smirk appeared on his lips. My intimidation tactic wasn’t working. “You think I’m not using her to report on all your misbehavior at work?”

I put my hand on my hip. “Wait. Are you saying she’s a double agent?”

“It would appear so,” he said, watching my fingers as I stole a rye chip from the communal bowl of Chex Mix between him and Owen.

“Then I guess we’re both going to have to be on our best behavior,” I said, crunching on the chip.

I quickly turned to Sean for a fast subject change to take the attention off Graham, whose eyes looked like they might bulge right out of his head.

“Sean, If you and Erika are both here, who’s manning the shop? ”

“Dimitri,” he deadpanned, without missing a beat. The guys laughed. Last I knew, his son wasn’t even walking yet, so there was no chance he was working a cash register. “We figured it was time for him to start pulling his own weight.”

Before I could quip back, Xander stood up. “Jill,” he said, nodding for me to follow him through the Gardners’ house. No, “Follow me,” or “Can we talk?” He only jerked his head and expected me to follow him like an obedient dog.

Stupidly, I did.

He led me up the stairs to the dark hallway on the second floor of the Gardners’ house. I let out an exasperated sigh when I reached the landing. “Xander, what do you need?”

“Who all have you told?” He crossed his arms.

“About us splitting up?” I asked, and he just blinked, like it was obvious. “I’ve only told Meghan and Graham.”

“You seem to be telling Graham a lot of things.”

“So? He’s the CEO. Gotta keep him on the up and up.”

Xander’s eyes traveled down my body and back up again. “What are you going to say to the others?”

“You mean Abigail.” It was a statement—not a question.

He just blinked.

I draped one arm on the banister at the top of the stairs, eyeing the canvas print of them on the console table nearby. In the photo, Owen was carrying Sarah on his back in a field of wildflowers; an engagement photo, I assumed. “I’ll keep it vague. I won’t say anything that’ll embarrass you.”

“Thanks.”

“I expect you’ll give me the same courtesy?”

He put his hands in his pockets, staring at the photo of Owen and Sarah with me. “I’m not going to say a word.”

“Even better.” I turned to him with a polite, closed-lipped grin, which he returned. For a fleeting moment, it seemed like we were going to be okay—like we were handling this breakup the right way.

Until I turned to walk down the stairs.

“Wait.” Xander’s hand closed around my elbow, tugging me back before I could take another step. It made my breath catch in my throat. “Don’t flirt with Graham.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just don’t.”

I laughed in his face. “Why do you care?”

“You’re going to get yourself in trouble, Jill,” he said, loosening his grip on my arm without completely letting go. “I’m just saying, as a friend, there’s a line there that even you shouldn’t cross.”

“Even me ?” I scoffed. What the fuck did that mean?

“Bad choice of words. But you know what I mean. I’m just looking out.”

I stepped back up onto the landing, bringing my face right up to his, and whispered, “Just wait. I’m going to flirt with him even harder now.”

Xander narrowed his eyes. “You’re just doing that to piss me off.”

“Why don’t you go cry to Abigail about it?

” I wriggled from his grasp and stomped down the stairs without looking back.

I fully expected to hear his footsteps behind mine, but he kept his feet planted at the top of the landing, letting me go.

I held my head high as I made my way through the kitchen, my sandals clicking on the hardwood floor.

Chase was entertaining the other guys with a ghost story about an apparition in the abandoned JCPenney building, an exaggerated version of the blog post Meghan had written about it.

I didn’t want to interrupt them again, so I didn’t even glance in their direction as I walked past the poker table on my way to the patio door.

But I did put a little extra swing into my hips as I passed.

I slammed the patio door shut behind me, still shaking off my irritation with Xander. Every woman in that backyard turned to me at once, their conversation tapering off.

Sarah spoke first. “Wow, Jillian. That dress is… stunning.”

Over on the patio sectional, Meghan sank lower into the cushion, her cheeks flushed like she’d already been drinking for a little while. Her reaction to the dress was a little less restrained.

“...Mommy?” she whimpered.

Yeah, she was drunk.

Kendall laughed beside her, resting her elbow on the armrest, drink in hand. “I bet Xander’s kicking himself so hard right now for fucking things up with you.”

My eyes flitted over to Meghan, who winced and mouthed “sorry,” but I couldn’t bring myself to be annoyed with her indiscretion. If nothing else, I was glad I wouldn’t have to be the one to break the news of the break-up—Meghan had already taken care of that for me.

Abigail snapped upright after Kendall’s remark.

“Xander fucked things up with you?” Abigail asked, glancing over my shoulder toward the guys inside.

For a second, I braced myself, half expecting her to defend him or deny it altogether.

But then her shoulders sank, and she let out a quiet, exasperated sigh. “What an idiot. I mean, look at you.”

I shook my head, not wanting this to turn into a Xander hate-fest. Glancing around the patio, I asked, “Where’s the tequila?”

There was a round of laughter, and Abigail was the one who swiftly located the tequila and poured me a shot—just before pouring herself one, too. “Cheers,” she said as we tapped our little plastic cups together, our eyes meeting beneath the patio lights.

It felt like she understood. There was something apologetic in her eyes, like perhaps this wasn’t the first time she had inadvertently broken up one of Xander’s relationships.

Not wanting to dwell on it, I found a seat next to Erika, who entertained us all with a story about Dimitri’s diaper blowout at a wedding reception.

Meghan offered me a White Claw, which I turned down in favor of one of Sarah’s frozen margaritas.

“Don’t skimp on the liquor,” I commanded.

And she followed through, keeping my glass full the rest of the night.

Before long, the patio lights were getting a little hazy. I could hardly focus when the conversation drifted to the book we were there to discuss, nearly falling out of my seat when I went to pull my own copy from my purse.