Page 46 of The Parent Trap

I glance at Violet, and somehow I know that there’s no chance in hell I’m going anywhere with her tonight. I can’t. I just can’t. I want to—or at least, part of me does—but…seeing Delia with a date has just…thrown me off.

I sink my last shot, winning the round with Ricardo. Toss back my drink. Meet Violet’s eyes. “So, something came up, actually.” I gesture at Ricardo. “But I’m going to leave you in Ricardo’s very capable hands. I promise, he won’t let you down. Will you, buddy?”

Ricardo gives her his most winning grin. “You know it.”

I shoot her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, really. Just, you know. One of those things.”

“What, is she an ex?” Violet asks, frowning.

I laugh. “It’s complicated.”

And then I walk away, heading for the front door. I tell myself not to do anything stupid.

But yet, as I near the little table where Delia is sitting with her date—right near the front door—I know I’m about to do something monumentally stupid.

I spy a sleek, low-slung red BMW parked out front, near my McLaren. And I know I’m about to really piss her off.

I try to tell myself not to.

Just say hi.

That’s it.

Instead, I lean down close to her, as if embracing her with familiarity. Whisper in her ear: “Is that his BMW out front?”

She pulls away. “Matthais.” Cold, distant, formal.

“Oh, it’s Matthais, now, is it?” I laugh as I stand upright. “Well, Cordelia. It was nice to see you.” I extend my hand to her date. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Thai Bristow. Delia and I are…business partners.”

He shakes my hand, and I can tell he’s puzzled by the whole interaction. “Tyler James Thomas.”

I only just barely stifle a snicker. “Nice to meet you, Tyler James Thomas.”

She’s fuming. I can feel it boiling—I always could feel her fuming, bubbling with anger. Back in the day, I made a game out of making her pop, little digs and needles and snipes until she’d just…BOOM.

Not anymore. I’m a grown-up.

And I don’t want her to hate me anymore.

I wonder if I’m going to regret that decision.

Probably.

* * *

Next morning,my dumb rabbit brain wakes me up at stupid o’clock in the morning. Oh-dark-thirty. The last time I was awake at this time, it was because I wasstillawake.

Why am I up at five thirty?

Shut up, brain, go back to sleep.

Nope.

I grunt in annoyance as I kick the blankets off and wriggle to a semi sitting position. Rub my eyes. Stare through my open bedroom door at the coffee maker which I can see from here, wondering if I’m really, actually awake and going to stagger my bleary ass over there and make coffee.

Fuck.

I am.