That and fear.

So much fear.

“I don’t know if I can leave Rae and ...”

“You leave Rae every day when you go to work,” she points out, raising her brows. “Please. Just come. If you don’t like it, you can go home and I’ll say nothing more. Please, Baylee.”

I smile at her use of my fake name, and a smile breaks out across her face, too.

“Okay,” I say, nodding. “Okay, I’ll come with you.”

“Oh, yay!” she squeals, clapping her hands. “I have the most gorgeous dress you can wear.”

I raise my brows.

“What?” she questions, shrugging. “Nobody will see ... It’ll cover them, I swear.”

I hesitate a little more, then exhale loudly.

“Okay,” I nod. “Okay, you win. Come over when you’re finished with work, and we’ll get ready together.”

“I’m so excited,” she cries. “It’s been so long since we’ve gone out together. You won’t regret it, I swear.”

I hope not.

God, I really hope not.

 

 

CHAPTER 2

NOW – BAYLEE

Music pounds from the club we’re lined up in front of. Blue neon lights flash and people are crowded everywhere, chatting and laughing, drinking and dancing. I stand close to Shania, clutching her arm, feeling a range of nerves I haven’t experienced for such a long time. I take a shaky breath, trying to calm myself. I really should have forced myself out long before this.

“Breathe, Baylee,” Shan says, squeezing my hand.

I didn’t realize I was hanging onto her so tightly. I ease my grip, take some more deep breaths, and murmur, “I need a hard shot of vodka.”

She laughs. “Yes, yes you do. Come on, we’re up.”

We hand over our identification and then head into the club. It’s surprisingly less crowded in here, and we make our way past groups of people until we reach the long, sleek, black bar. It’s nice. Classy. “Vodka and cranberry?” Shania asks me.

I give her a thumbs up, and then reach down and adjust my dress. It’s nice, I can’t deny that. It’s a black v-neck dress that dips down between my breasts, squeezing tightly around them and my waist before fanning out softly. It reaches my knees, so it isn’t overly short. I’ve paired it with some silver pumps and decided to leave my blond hair down in soft curls.

Shania looks like a bombshell in her skin tight red dress. Her dark hair is down too, only it’s tack straight and flowing around her hips. She’s got Italian in her, and her hair is thick, long, and damned gorgeous. Most men stop in their tracks when she walks in. Understandably so; she’s breathtaking and she has an amazing personality to match.

A combination that’s rare these days.

She turns when our drinks are made and hands me one. I take it, swallowing a long, deep sip. The alcohol burns my throat but is quickly eased by the cranberry juice. I feel a little less tense instantly.

“Let’s find a booth, have a few of these, then we’ll dance.”

I nod and follow her through the crowd until we find a booth. I slide in first, and she shuffles in beside me. I take another sip of my drink as we scan the crowd. It’s mostly well-dressed people, mingling, acting like they’re at a fine dining restaurant and not a club. I chuckle.

That’s when my eyes zone in on him.

It’s hard to miss him. After one glance I can already see he’s the kind of man that stands out in a crowd. You can’t help but look at him, even if you’re not intending to. I don’t know if it’s the stance, or the wild laughter coming from his mouth, or the muscles on his forearm, or just that he’s probably one of the most incredible looking men I’ve ever seen.

But he stands out.

God, does he stand out.

“You’re seeing him too, huh?” Shania says, and I jerk my eyes away from the incredibly attractive man and look to her.

“It’s hard to miss him.”

She wiggles her brows. “You should go and talk to him, he’s gorgeous.”

Instantly, my defenses come up, and the wall I’ve built around my heart strengthens. No. I won’t go and talk to him. Not after York. The absolute last thing I want in my life is a man. I’m in no position to trust anyone, I’m in no position to guarantee I can stick around, I’m just in no position for anything.

“No,” I say, my voice firm.

Her eyes soften. “You don’t have to marry him, honey. You can just have a conversation with him. It’ll do you good.”

Images of York’s smile flash through my mind. He was that man once. Just an easygoing, funny guy standing in a bar. Then he turned into a monster. I can’t take that risk again. I won’t take it.

“I really don’t want to, can we drop it?” I say, forcing a smile even though my lips tremble.

“Of course,” she says instantly.

“Tell me how your love life is going,” I say, changing the subject.

“It’s not,” she huffs, sipping her drink. “I swear. It’s just at a direct stand still right now.”

“Rick still not playing the game?” I laugh.

“Oh, he’s playing the game, all right, he’s just not playing the game I want. I swear, we’re friends with all the benefits, all the perks of a relationship, but the damned man refuses to say the words I need to hear.”

“You’re my girlfriend?” I say, wiggling my brows.

“Exactly. Honestly, he can’t even use the ‘I’m afraid of commitment’ line because seriously, we stay at each other’s houses, go everywhere together, have met each other’s families—we are basically in a relationship.”

Giggling, I sip my drink. “Maybe you should just ease up and enjoy it. How important is the title, really?”

She looks to me with her mouth slightly gaping. “How important is a title? Very! Very, I tell you. I know his actions are speaking all the words, but dammit, I’m a female, I need the damned words.”

“Maybe you should stop giving him all the perks then and he’ll step up.”

Her brows go up. “Keep going ...”

I laugh. “Well, you’re giving him all the perks of being your boyfriend, without forcing him to actually step up and be your boyfriend. Take the perks away, and when he asks why, tell him you’re ready for something more serious, and if he can’t give it to you then you don’t want to be wasting any more time.”