Page 31 of Sugar (Gilded #1)

Triple Ds

MADDIE

I was drunk.

I was happy about that. Getting drunk was pretty much the point of being at a bar. The problem was that the higher my alcohol consumption, the more elevated my loneliness.

It was an unfamiliar emotion. I wasn’t sure I’d ever been lonely.

I wasn’t the kind of person who always had to be dating someone.

I had friends and family. Hell, I never blinked at going to parties or get-togethers on my own because I made new friends wherever I went.

But right then, I didn’t want to make new friends.

I wanted Easton.

Missing him went against the rules I’d set for myself, but the vodka had knocked down those walls. The little ache that’d been in my chest all day after canceling on him had grown into a chasm.

Not that my loved-up friends were making me feel like a third wheel.

Or fifth wheel, in our case.

We were having a blast. I just wished that Easton and I had the kind of relationship where I could invite him to hang out with my friends. But that wasn’t what we were.

Even if we were, the fancy-ass lawyer wouldn’t want to hang in our favorite dive bar with a bunch of college students. Even Chris seemed a little put off, and he was only five years older than us, not fifteen. He was doing his best to hide it for Wren’s sake, which earned him some more points.

Not that he needed them. Wren was an adult who could make her own decisions, and she’d again chosen well. But they were there, nonetheless.

Unlike Easton.

Dammit.

Greer set her tequila and soda down and leaned closer. “You okay?”

I choked down the stupid longing and flashed a smile that was fifty percent forced and one hundred percent drunk. “Yup.” I looked over to share the smile with Wren, but she’d disappeared.

Poof.

Vanished.

“Where’d she go?”

Greer and Josh laughed. I was fine with her doing it, but I side eyed him.

Wren wasn’t the only one who could hold a grudge.

To be fair, Greer had been correct. Josh seemed like a changed man. More attentive and present.

But still a bit of a show-offy tool, though she didn’t seem to mind that.

She gestured to the bar. “They went to get another round.” She smiled. Hers wasn’t forced. It was all-knowing—and also drunk. “You must’ve missed it because you were staring at your phone.”

“Was not,” I lied because I very much had been.

I’d been trying to convince my vodka-soaked brain that texting Easton was a bad idea.

All the while, I’d also been willing it to vibrate with a message from him.

Since I wasn’t about to admit any of that, I changed the subject before my lowered inhibitions did it for me. “Chris is so nice.”

“ Yesss ,” she drawled on a hushed whisper. “He seems crazy about her, too.”

“Totally. Which is expected, of course. She’s Wren. But he seems ready to hire a skywriter to proclaim his unending devotion.”

“I like it.” She offered her own little side eye to Josh that he missed because he wasn’t paying attention. “He’s not afraid to show his feelings.”

Uh oh.

Maybe Josh is not as changed as we thought…

Like the relationship gods had timed it, Josh chose that moment to push his stool back. “Sorry, babe, work calls.”

Greer didn’t ask for a reason or an excuse. She didn’t even pretend to be disappointed. “Okay.”

“Hopefully this will be quick, and I can come back.”

“Yeah. Hopefully.” The snark in her tone was heavy, but he wasn’t listening to catch it.

He kissed her quickly and tossed me a half-assed wave on his way out the door that unfortunately didn’t hit him.

“If I talk about seeing him again, please slap me silly,” she said.

“Did I have a psychic vision, or did we not already have this exact conversation?”

“We did. And I really thought he’d changed.

But then I spent the afternoon with him, and he was back to being glued to his phone.

I was already over it, but I knew having him here would help Wren,” she continued, unaware of my guilty conscience skyrocketing thanks to my own cellular preoccupation.

“Turns out her and Professor Dreamboat didn’t need the help. ”

“Ah, yes, the commonly known first grade professor.”

“Professor sounded better than Mr. Dreamboat.”

“True.” I hesitated for a moment before pointing out the hole in his excuse. “Did my dad fail to mention that Exquisite Aesthetic is now open on Saturday nights?”

Thankfully, there was a valid reason that didn’t involve him cheating—and me needing to saw his junk off with a rusty grapefruit spoon.

“He still works for my dad, but he’s also been working part-time as a personal assistant to some celebrity.

He can’t tell me who because of an NDA, but he said they’re demanding. He’s hoping it opens some acting gigs.”

I’m not the only one signing NDAs…

My filter worked enough to keep that to myself. “I didn’t know he wanted to be an actor.”

“Neither did I. And neither did he until Gloria brought it up. My guess is that she realized she can’t ignore the fact she has an adult son anymore, so she’s trying to profit off him instead.”

My hazy brain reminded me of what Wren had told us about Chris’ dad being some studio something or another. “And I take it you didn’t tell him about Chris’ family connection?”

“I did not. If he didn’t want to be here for me…” She shrugged, but it didn’t hide the flash of pain. “Anyway, enough about him. Have I mentioned this dress looks amazing on you? The white with your tan is chef’s kiss. I love it.”

You and Easton both.

I should tell him I’m wearing it.

No.

I should show him.

Since I was no longer attending the engagement party, it freed me up to wear the requested dress without risking a major social faux pas. I wasn’t even sure why I wore it. The connection to him or whatever.

The idea to send him a picture was just the genius opening I’d been looking for. I could message without feeling like I was interrupting his night.

I bolted up from my stool just as Wren and Chris returned with more drinks.

“Do we smell or something?” she asked as she took in me and then the other abandoned stool.

“Bathroom,” I said.

“And I don’t want to talk about it,” Greer muttered.

Chris looked down at the shitty beer he held that was supposed to go to Josh.

Greer offered an apologetic smile. “I’ll pay for that.”

I didn’t catch his response as I weaved through the crowd, wobbling on my trembling legs.

The line for the bathroom was too long for my impatience, so I bypassed it in favor of an empty spot near the unused side exit.

The lack of any mirror made it harder to get a good picture—as did the crappy lighting—but I did the best I could.

I didn’t have time to try a dozen positions, so I hoped my eyes hadn’t teamed up with the vodka to lie to me and that I actually did look good.

I sent it and typed another message.

Me: Thank you again for understanding. I still wore the white dress like you said. I hope you’re having a fun time at the party.

Me: And obviously no rush to respond. I was just thinking about you.

I probably should’ve deleted that last part, but I didn’t. I sent it.

There. That was fine.

Played it as cool as a Carolina Reaper pepper.

His response came before I even started back to the table.

Easton: I’m always thinking about you.

It was a good thing I hadn’t started walking because I for sure would’ve busted my ass at that.

Easton: Looks like you’re having a better night than I am, guppy. Where are you?

Me: At a bar, meeting Wren’s boyfriend for the first time. He’s great. Not tyrant levels of great, but definitely better than Greer’s douchey ex who is actually an ex now.

That was probably nonsensical, and he definitely didn’t care about it, but he was nice enough to pretend.

Easton: That’s a shame.

Me: Anyway, sorry for bothering you.

Easton: You’re never a bother, Madeline.

I was tempted to take that reassurance to heart and continue messaging him every little frivolous thought in my head because it made me happy. But even drunken-me knew that was a bad idea. That he was busy with the important client.

But I did allow myself to send one last foolish message.

One I would likely regret but that I couldn’t possibly hold in.

Me: I just wanted to say hi, and I miss you. I’ll let you get back to your night.

I didn’t even care if my honesty came back to bite me in the ass.

Right then, at least.

I returned to the table to see that Wren was practically on Chris’ lap with his arm around her. His focus was on Greer as he asked about school. At my approach, he looped me into it. “What’s your favorite class, Maddie?”

“You can call me Mads,” I said, deeming him with the highest honor.

“That’s a big deal,” Wren shared, grinning widely from her spot pressed tight to his side.

Wow, they really do make a gorgeous couple.

Chris wasn’t tyrant levels of great, and he also wasn’t tyrant levels of hot.

But he was still attractive in a California surfer way, right down to the overgrown ash brown hair.

He was surprisingly muscular for a teacher, but since Wren loved to go for hikes and runs, that appreciation for fitness was another thing they had in common.

His grin matched hers. “Okay, Mads. Favorite class?”

I grimaced. “Can I say none?”

“Not to a teacher, you can’t.”

“Okay, then, can I say my school newspaper pitch meetings?”

“You hate those,” Greer refuted.

“I love to hate them. They’re frustrating and competitive, but the reward is totally worth it.”

We talked for a bit more before Wren and Greer’s eyes went huge. A tingle of awareness went up my spine just as a drink was set in front of me.

The drink—the first one I’d been served all night that had cherries and an orange slice—was enough to clue me in on who was behind me.

The familiar woodsy cologne confirmed that conclusion.

The alertness that only he seemed to evoke underscored it.

But I still didn’t believe my eyes or the rest of my senses. I spun on my stool and nearly toppled. I didn’t feel any more grounded when strong hands gripped my hips to keep me upright.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked even as I threw my arms around his neck.

What am I doing?

I don’t hug Easton.

Not that there wasn’t any contact. He held my hand. Or looped my arm through his. Or put his hand at my lower back—making me melt.

But I never just outright hugged him.

I awkwardly tried to pull away and play it off, but he didn’t let me. His hands on my hips tightened.

I locked my knees and stayed focused when all I wanted was to selfishly keep him there. “The party.”

“Not important.”

“But—”

He raised an eyebrow that was filled with warning. He compounded it by pushing his shoulders back in that way that made him more imposing.

And made me feel vulnerable in that way I didn’t understand but still liked far too much.

His expression softened, and he lowered his voice. “I also missed you.”

Oh hell.

I might as well have been a card table with as fast as those words made me fold.

It was just as well. Even if I wanted to demand he leave—which I very much did not —that wasn’t the way things worked between us.

“How did you even know where I was?” I asked.

“Signage in the background of the picture you sent showing this place has a D health inspection rating.”

“Wait, it does?” Chris’ lip curled, and he pushed his drink toward the center of the table.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “The D stands for dirt cheap drinks but don’t order food.”

“Noted.” Easton didn’t look as horrified as Chris did.

Contrary to my initial assumptions, he didn’t seem uncomfortable in the dive at all.

He was out of place among the college-aged patrons, but part of that was the slacks and matching black dress shirt he wore.

A bigger part was how he carried himself with an effortless coolness.

And the biggest part was that he was like a billion times hotter than anyone else there.

He lowered me to sit on the stool before taking the abandoned one Greer happily shoved at him. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad it’s going to good use. I sure don’t need it,” she said, more to me than Easton.

He answered anyway. “I heard you lost some dead weight. Congrats. Your drinks are on me in celebration.”

“You might regret that,” she said before taking a healthy gulp from her glass.

Easton nudged the one he brought closer to me.

“Make me switch to water after, though.” I was already drunk but had somehow managed to turn my impulsivity into a win.

I wasn’t about to push that good luck.

“You got it.” Wrapping one arm around me, he extended the other to Chris. “Easton.”

“Chris. Wren’s boyfriend.”

She let out a happy little sigh that turned into a happier one when he whispered something that sent a flush across her cheeks.

Without thought, I rested my hand on Easton’s knee as I leaned closer to explain, “They’re new.”

“I gathered.” When I moved my hand, it was his turn to close the minimal distance between us. His lips nearly brushed my ear when he demanded, “Put your hand back on me, Madeline.”

I immediately obeyed and was rewarded with a squeeze.

Could this night get any better?

Easton dropped his arm from around me to rest his hand on my leg. Unlike mine, though, he positioned his high up my thigh. He absent-mindedly toyed with the hem of my dress, and his fingertips skimmed my skin.

Yes.

Yes, it can.