Page 122 of The Deceptions

Sometimes, I think arranged marriages are way more common than people like to believe. Well, in certain societies, that is. In the mafia and mob world, arranged marriages are more than a way of life. It's how they breed alliances and stay in each other's good favor. Even if they hate one another, they have to play nice if their kids are married and their businesses depend on it.

"Oh, look," Victoria whispers, tilting her beer bottle. "Their dog has arrived."

"Their dog?" I question dumbly. My heart beats in my throat when Waffles, whom I have successfully avoided for this long, strolls into the party. I swallow hard, trying to attempt like I know nothing about him.

Waffles? Waffles who? I don’t know him.

"He shows up for every party. Honestly, I think he follows them around campus." She shakes her head. “It’s adorable.”

"It's their guard dog," Blane smirks. "It's always around."

"But, God. Don't touch him..." Simon trails off, wrinkling his nose.

"Yeah, I think he bit a guy last year and took his fingers off,” Blane adds dramatically.

That doesn’t seem like Waffles at all. He’s a watchdog, for sure. Always on the lookout for me and the guys. He’d fight off any bad guy if they got too close. Not that many did. I don’tdoubt that Waffles sticks up for the guys, but imagining him biting off someone’s finger has my stomach twisting into knots.

Not my Waffles.

"Vicious dog," Victoria chuckles, gulping down the rest of her beer. "And to think, his name is fucking Waffles."

They continue their conversation. Not noticing when I don't join in. I can't. Not with my tongue tied into knots as memories assault me. Again. It's been a never-ending cycle since I stepped foot back in Greenwood. I swallow a gulp of my half-finished drink I’ve been babying.

I'm unable to take my eyes off Waffles. His golden coat hasn't changed. Looking shiny and freshly washed in the bright moonlight. I wonder if JJ still gives him weekly baths to ward off his allergy to dogs. Or if Mack still insists on taking him for walks every morning. Only the two of them. Or Huxley. Does he still measure out Waffle's food, meticulously making sure he doesn't overfeed him, convinced he’d make him obese and hurt his joints?

I don't know anymore. To me, Waffles was an essential companion to us all. He roamed the woods, going to and from each of our houses. Almost always showing up when I needed him most. He crawled through my window and lay in bed with me as my parents argued a room away, letting me snuggle into his fur like a pillow to comfort me.

"Waffles," her husband says with a snort. "He hates everyone. He doesn't let anyone ever touch him. Only those three." And me. Or, at least, he used to. If there’s one innocent in all this, it’s Waffles.

"Their guard dog?" I ask without thinking.

No matter what, I want to run to him and throw my arms around his neck. The memories associated with him were always happy ones. Some days it was just him and me, wandering through the woods and getting into trouble. All to avoid home.Waffles was my safe space beyond the guys. And now, my only good memory of Greenwood. Everything else is associated with them, tied to them in ways my mind still can’t comprehend, despite the truth.

My connection to JJ, Hux, and Mack is complicated. Like a knot in a string, stuck tightly together. There's no way to unwind what was done or what our memories hold.

"That dog follows them to every party. I think he's like extra security or something," Simon snorts, gulping down the rest of his beer. "I'd love to pet him but..."

"God, don't do that, Si. You'll lose your fingers," Victoria scoffs. "Besides, he never gets close to anyone but them." She nods her head toward the three supposed kings of campus.

There they are standing beneath a large tree, a few feet from my grave. My stomach knots when Mack looks longingly at my marker and frowns more, returning to discussing something with JJ and Hux. If only I could read their lips from here, I can't. Maybe my glasses will catch it, but I doubt it. It's a hazy night. The moon shines brightly down on us, but no stars rest in the night sky. Clouds hang in the distance. And if I didn't know any better, I'd say it's going to storm within the next few hours.

"Parties over," Victoria murmurs sarcastically. "Amanda and the bitch squad just showed up." She groans, gesturing to Amanda.

"Oh, fun. Here comes the dramaaaaa," Simon snorts, joining the Amanda hate club. Well, count me in. I've been in the Amanda hate club for longer than anyone here combined.

"I can't believe he's going to marry her," Victoria says, pouting when she gets to the bottom of her beer.

“Marry her?” Blane asks obliviously. “When did this happen?”

Right. She’s got that massive diamond ring sitting pretty on her finger. I shake my head in disgust, my heart wanting to tearin two at the thoughts of them kissing in front of a preacher as they happily walk hand-in-hand as man and wife.

That was mine at one point.My life.

I suck in a breath, rubbing my left ring finger.

Simon clears his throat. "Unfortunately. Happened not too long ago, from what I heard.”

"Yeah, well I heard it's a bullshit marriage," Victoria says, rolling her eyes. "Some business arrangement. You know how those mafia types are.” She scoffs at that.