Once upon a time, one summer night…we were only strangers.
It’s finally here and like really long but I want to fit it into three parts so this one is very long. So enjoy.
Gwyn get your head out of the clouds.
Berdara you look like a lost puppy out there, focus on the game or you’re benched.
Your daughter failed her test because instead of studying she was up till 5 in the morning reading some trashy romance novel by ‘Selyn Drake.’
It’s the best thing for her.
College will force her to grow up.
Berdara pay attention, you have a meeting in 5.
Gwyn this isn’t a fairytale.
You’re too caught up in this fantasy world.
You have to stop rejecting people because they don’t fit this perfect ideal you created in your head.
Fantasy. Fairytale. Real. Fantasy. Fairytale. Real. Fantasy. Fairytale.
Once upon a time two people met, fell madly in love, and lived happily ever after.
But that wasn’t how life worked right? In this world true love didn’t exist and love at first sight was the naive hope of the ignorant and the foolish. Once upon a time was a children’s tale and to want what you knew you could never have was an endless cycle of hurt.
Except I forgot to mention that it did happen, and not to Gwyneth Berdara of course but to her best friend of nearly a decade. Nesta archeron, the pessimist herself, was marrying the love of her life this Sunday at 7 pm, and Gwyn? Well, Gwyn was overjoyed.
This incessant ringing of her phone had Gwyn waking far too early for her liking on a Saturday morning.
“Yes.” She answered with her eyes still half-closed and her shirt barely on.
“Sweetie,” The voice of Emerie, her other best friend, had her yawning in annoyance. “You look like shit.”
“It is way too early to be insulting my appearance.” Her voice held the grogginess of sleep and her head was pounding.
Emerie smirked, “Oh don’t be like that and Gwyn,”
“it’s 2 pm get your ass out of bed, we’re leaving in 10 minutes.”
“We’re doing what now.” Not even a second later she heard the rattle of keys and the door opened. Emerie vanished from her phone screen and stepped into her room.
“God it’s worse than I thought.”
“Remind me why I gave you a key?”
“Because you love me. Remind me why you’re a slob?”
“It’s not that bad.” She mumbled looking around her bedroom. “Alright,” Gwyn conceded, “It is that bad.”
Littered around her room lay piles of clothes, they might’ve been dirty or recently washed, she wasn’t sure nor did she care. Empty bottles of various liquors could be found in any direction, stacks of paper and textbooks were thrown about on the floor. Makeup, hair products, and skincare covered her vanity. Empty bags of chips rest next to the overflowing garbage can. Yeah, Gwyn was living in a pigsty of her own filth.
As her eyes found their way across her atrocity of a living situation, they landed on the outlier, her one possession she kept pristine and perfect no matter how much it cost her. Gwyn’s bookshelf lit with fairy lights and ordered by color, author, and title in a way that even her two best friends could barely understand, stood there proud and tall, a singular flower amongst a field of weeds.
Emerie stepped over the clothes and made her way to Gwyn’s bed and reached out her hands, “Time to get up our sister is getting married tomorrow and as co-maid of honors, it is our job to be there for her.”
That. Right. Nesta’s wedding was tomorrow and she wanted nothing more than to be the supportive friend she ought to be. But jealousy was a cruel thing with no laws that bound it, it snaked its claws around your throat and squeezed before you could even think to breathe, suffocating the air from your lungs.
And with jealousy, came guilt and anger, the knowledge that you shouldn’t crave what others had, and yet emotions knew no rationality. It was a riveting cycle. And no matter how much she drank the previous night, dusk turned to day and dawn always came and all Gwyn was left with was her crippling self-pity and a killer headache.
She sighed, letting Emerie pull her up, “Yeah yeah I’m up.”
She dressed quickly, pulled her hair back into a low ponytail, and did her makeup lightly. Gwyn couldn’t completely cover her under-eye bags but she tried her best. When she was finished she step back and held her hands out, posing dramatically for Emerie.
“Hot, now let’s go.” She gave a slight nod of her head in appreciation as they walked out the door, down the stairs, and into her car.
“So,” Gwyn said waggling her fingers in Emerie’s face, with a smirk on her own while she buckled her seatbelt. “Is Mor coming,”
“Of course Mor is coming she and Cassian have been best friends since they were like 12.”
“Alright,” She started, undeterred, “Is she coming with you?”
Emerie sighed, “I mean we went on a couple of dates a few weeks ago and I thought it was going pretty well but she hasn’t called since.”
“You know I’ve never liked her,” Gwyn stated with conviction.
“I’m pretty sure you were planning our wedding just last month.”
“That was when things were good, now she’s dead to me.”
Emerie laughed “You are an enigma.”
“I make life interesting,” Gwyn rebutted before turning to face her, “But real talk, you’re gonna look so goddamn fucking sexy that she is going to regret every decision she has ever made.”
“That would be great if she wasn’t literally the most gorgeous woman I have ever met.”
“Sure she’s pretty, but is she as pretty as you? Not even close.”
“I appreciate your unwavering confidence.”
“My best and worst trait, I’ve been told.”
Changing the subject she asked, “So Gwyneth, why isn’t your most recent boy toy coming to the wedding.”
“Oh right, him,” She made a face, “I thought it would be a little awkward if I asked him to one of my best friend’s wedding after dumping him.”
Emerie frowned at her, exasperated. “What was wrong with this one.”
“I just didn’t feel any passion, there was no,” she waved her around her hands searching for the right word before finally settling on, “chemistry.”
“The last person you had chemistry with you said she wasn’t and I quote ‘Down to earth’ enough.”
“If this person is going to be in every single wedding photo, they better be the love of my life.”
“Maybe you’ll find someone at the wedding.”
“Finding true love at somebody else’s wedding? Sure.” The words were not those of the hopeless romantic she knew herself to be, the one that knew love waited on every corner, there for you to take if only you were brave enough, but the ones engraved into her mind by every teacher, parental figure, and friend she had ever had. Those eager to beat the fantasy out of her heart and force her to grow up.
“What about just a good old fashion one-night stand.”
“Em, you know meaningless hookups aren’t really my thing.”
“So? You deserve a little fun in your life.”
Gwyn nodded affirmingly, “Next time you’ll see me pole dancing on the Hollywood sign.”
Smiling she responded, “Never.”
They pulled into Nesta’s driveway and got out of the car. Gwyn and Emerie walked through the unlocked door and up the stairs to Nesta’s bedroom, only to find their friend practically drowning in her closet.
“Wow I thought your room was bad,” Emerie mumbled. “Nesta hunny what’s going on here.”
“How is it that I have an entire fucking wardrobe and nothing to wear?” She started throwing random pieces out of her closet and onto the floor. “None of these are good enough.” She held up a shirt before tossing it into a growing pile of clothes. “What even is this I hate it.”
Gwyn and Emerie turned and gave each other a look and a quick nod before jumping into action. They ripped Nesta from her packing, forcing her into her bed. She protested the entire time but when her head hit the pillows, she was gone before Gwyn could say ‘you need to sleep.’
And by the time Nesta awoke they had her honeymoon bags packed, her closet cleaned, and an array of products laid out on a table.
Startling them, she jumped out of her bed mumbling, “Shit. Shit. fuck fuck fuck my life.” But when Nesta finally took notice of Gwyn and Emerie the crease of her brow, the curl of her lip, and the tightness of her jaw dissolved into relieved gratitude. She looked like she might sob and Gwyn couldn’t help but share a quiet smile with Emerie. “God I love you guys so much.”
They laughed and said in unison. “We know.”
“And you can pay us back for being the actual best friends to ever exist, some other time.” Emerie joked. “But tomorrow you need to not look like a college student surviving on only caffeine and spite.”
“Excuse me I thrived in college,” Nesta argued.
“Sure you did,” Gwyn took over. “Anyway in order to party our asses off tomorrow, we need to be serene as fuck tonight.” She winked and looked at them knowingly.
“Oh my god no.” Nesta groaned. “We are almost 30 years old we cannot still be doing spa day.”
“Oh but sweetie, we absolutely can.”
Spa day was a certain tradition they had invented in college and had only shared with one person ever. Nesta’s then-roommate, Emerie. Think of it sort of like an insane drinking game full of pampering, the rules of spa day forbade her from sharing more.
They drank far into the night, Gwyn with her two best friends, drunk on the high of living like tomorrow didn’t exist and on way too much liquor. They talked and laughed and for a moment the weight of the jealousy that burdened her was lifted, she was dancing on skyscrapers, nothing could bring her down. She was drowning in the euphoria of her own false sense of relief.
But dusk turned to day and dawn always came.
—————————————————————————–
“Today’s the day I’ve been waiting for.” Gwyn turned to her side slamming her pillow over her head to shut out the noise.
“What the fuck is that,” Nesta shouted.
“Tomorrow won’t come after all. Yesterday’s so far away.”
“Turn it off.” Emerie groaned. “I’m way too hungover for this.”
“And this today’s the only day. Somebody, please stop the clock, oh”
Nesta dug through the piles of plastic cups, tossed aside facemask wrappers, yoga balls, and tutu’s looking for the source of the singing.
“Don’t ever let this day stop, oh.”
“Found it.” She held up her phone and to the mercy of their ears and the pounding headache they were all experiencing, she turned it off.
“Playing today’s the day, clever,” Gwyn murmured, glaring at Nesta.
“Hey don’t look at me, Cassian must have set this song to my alarm.” She paused. “Remind me why I’m marrying him again.”
Cassian ever the corny romantic. He and Nesta were the true meaning of opposites attract, though having vitally different interests, he’s the only person Gwyn had ever met who could match her ferocity and sheer stubborn will.
While Nesta and Gwyn had bonded over their love of romance literature they fell on opposite ends of the spectrum. Where books gave Gwyn assurance that her real-life happily ever after was waiting for her, Nesta’s love came from indulgence, a guilty pleasure of escapism regardless of her firm belief in the fact that true love did not exist. Emerie fell somewhere in between them, hopeful that her soulmate was out there but realistic in her expectations of people.
“Because you’re in love with him?” Emerie provided simply.
“Oh right, that.” It was clear Nesta still could not truly grasp the fact that she was getting married. But it was Gwyn’s job to get her to that alter and down the aisle. Of course, there would be no actual alter but you get the idea.
“Speaking of Cassian, where is he?” Gwyn’s interest peaked. “Unless we have a runaway groom situation cause that would be so c-” The frown on her face had Gwyn rapidly changing directions. “C-bad. That would be absolutely horrible for you Nesta, one of my lifelong best friends. And totally not like the Insider number 4 ranked, but my personal favorite, Selyn Drake novel ‘Grooms be gone.’“
Nesta laughed. “Pipe down Berdara, he’s at a hotel with his friends. You know the whole can’t see each other before the wedding thing.” Her face held the slight remnant of disgust but she quickly buried it.
“Wow, so you’re like going all the way with all of the sappy lovey-dovey wedding traditions,” Emerie responded shocked.
She sighed. “Yeah if it were up to me we would just go down to the courthouse and then have an obnoxious honeymoon instead of the over-the-top wedding. But it makes him happy so what can you do.”
Emerie checked the clock, “We have approximately 3 hours to get you ready and that includes about a 20 minutes period for you to waste distributed throughout all three hours.”
Gwyn began ridding the room of all of the alcohol and when Nesta began to complain she quickly shut her down. “You are going to be stone-cold sober and remember every moment of your goddamn wedding if we have anything to say about it.” She winked. “Until the reception and then you can get drunk off your ass because you are the bride, babe.”
They forced Nesta into the shower and when they deemed her body, teeth, and hair clean, they sat her in the chair and began.
Emerie with her skilled fingers twisted the strands of her hair into a beautiful braided crown.
Meanwhile, makeup was Gwyn’s job and she did it well, not so much covering but enhancing the stunning beauty that was already there. She smoked out her eyes and cut a thin black line across her lid. She went heavy on the lashes and soft on the base makeup with heavy contour sharpening her already defined bone structure. The blush was subtle, the highlight creating a slight glow.
And when they were both finished Gwyn brought out her dress. It truly was a thing of beauty but it was nothing compared to the way it looked on her. The dress synched at her waist and cut down her chest, it hugged every curve until it flared out at her knees in a lovely train.
And when they were finished, Gwyn and Emerie stepped back to admire their work.
Nesta’s brow furrowed, worried. “What is it? Is it that bad?”
They smiled warmly. “You look perfect.” The clear ice of her eyes began to blur over, melting as a few tears threatened to ruin her makeup. But Gwyn was there with a tissue in hand.
“Don’t tell anyone I cried over a dress.”
“Nesta Archeron, crying? Certainly not.”
Emerie clutched her shoulder and spoke softly, “Last chance to tell us you can’t do this. I have your passport in my bag we can be out of the country in 2 hours.”
Nesta laughed softly. “No. I may be a lot of things but I do not break my promises. We’re doing this.”
Satisfied they hugged her, “That’s our girl.”
Quickly they did their own hair and makeup and got changed. They were out the door in an hour and a half and headed to the library.
The library was an enchanting old building, one that Nesta and Gwyn had worked at during some of the hardest years of their lives. It had been a sanctuary, a place that held a million realities beyond the struggles of their own. And when Cassian proposed there was not another single place Nesta could imagine her wedding.
They arrived and the old building was lit anew, taking its rustic sentiment and dousing it with the fantasy between the pages it held, come to life.
Gwyn’s eyes flashed and she saw the library. Every dream she had for her own wedding, an actuality for someone else. They flashed again and she was walking down the aisle with Emerie and Nesta’s two sisters. She stood there and watched while she fell deeper and deeper into herself.
It was the way in which they looked at one another, the quiet love that shone between them. They were magic, and they were made, a bond unbreakable solidified by the meaningless words of one who did not understand that they did not need a contract to know they belonged to each other.
And for Gwyn, who understood that this night had nothing to do with her, could not deny that it was that moment that truly wrecked her. She wanted the cliche big wedding and the stupid unnecessary things that came with it. But more than her materialistic desires, she would give it all up if it meant she could have a love that was full of passion and desire but pure and absolute.
After a lifetime of being told to grow up, she thirsted for the one who would strip her bear of the masks she wore, who would see the little girl who hid under the protection of her blankets with a dim light so she could live as someone else while the world slept. Who saw the ambition and the stubborn heart that lay beneath years of conditioning to hide it. Who knew every inch of her, the good, the bad, the eternal grey, and loved it all.
Gwyn’s eyes flashed again and the ceremony was over, a drink lay in her hand as she sat alone at the bar, prepared to drown. For if she was unwilling to save herself there was no one else to catch her, no one to break her fall.
“Would you like anything else miss?”
Her words were slow to form, stuck in her throat. “You know what? It’s an open bar give me, 3 more.” She tossed up her hand holding up three fingers to emphasize her point. Gwyn hiccuped and then giggled at herself.
“You look pretty young, right bartender?”
“My name is Lincoln miss, and I am 26.”
She spread her arms out over the counter shaking her head and sighing, “Oh what I would give to be 26. So young. So much time. Well let me give you some advice Lincoln, life sucks.” she said bitterly.
“Like really fucking sucks. It’s just one big globe of sadness, suffering, poverty, racism, sexism, homophobia, and this.” She gestured to the wedding around her. “This doesn’t happen to the normal person. They are going to last forever. 50% of marriages end in divorce and I can tell you with absolute certainty that there going to make it. Wanna know why that is Lincoln?”
Gwyn didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Because I’ve read probably every romance book that you could ever think of. I have a doctorate in psychology. I spend every fucking day of my life listening to the problems of others. So when I say that I am probably one of the most qualified to have an opinion on this, that isn’t an exaggeration. Those two are fucking soulmates.” She rolled her eyes.
“and us, you and me. We’re the characters forced to watch, to sit here and be the supportive best friend,” She looked him up and down. “The wedding bartender. Because those are our roles right? Let them go live out their dreams while we stay stationary in the background.”
“Hey, gorgeous.” Gwyn turned, rolling her eyes, to find two of Cassian’s obnoxious cousins standing next to her, hovering over the drunken mess that she was. They sat down, far too close for comfort.
“Go away.” Her words stumbled slightly as she took a sip of her drink.
They turned to each other and laughed, dangerous words laced the look that coursed between them. “No no. I don’t think we will.”
“Get. The. Fuck. Away. From. Me.” Each word was clipped and short, forced out through gritted teeth.
He grabbed her hair roughly playing with it in his hand, she slapped him away and something in his gaze shifted. “You wanna try that again?” He threatened with a mocking smile.
The other one took over. “You gonna sit pretty for us?” With every passing word they inched closer, invading the boundaries she had set. Hunger coated their eyes, causing them to be dull and unfocused. These two were drunker than she was.
Gwyn opened her mouth to tell them to fuck off, but she was interrupted by a soft chuckle. “Oh I don’t think she will.” the voice sent a thrill wrapping around her spine, eliciting a slight shiver. It was smooth and seductive and her senses cleared, the haze of alcohol dissipating.
“Really what are you going to do about it?” One sneered.
“Yeah as long as we’re concerned she’s single and ours.” Gwyn almost let the bitter laugh she had been holding in, out. The blatant misogyny, as if she was an object to be owned.
“Watch how you speak about her.” He threatened. “She’s mine.”
“You sure about that?” They snickered in disbelief, watching Gwyn’s facial expression say otherwise.
“Oh, I’m more than sure.”
The man gently took her hand and spun her around, pulling her against him. Sweeping her off her feet he whispered to her. “Follow my lead.” And before Gwyn could think to push away, his lips found their way to hers. The soft kiss she had craved was nowhere to be found. There was nothing restrained about it. He captured her lips with his own, rapacious and hungry. It was consuming, passionate, and Gwyn found she was once again drowning. And when she kissed him back, his lips curled with rapture, pleasantly surprised.
It was as if he hadn’t been expecting her to meet him step for step with equal fervor. And neither had she. Her eyes had been wide with shock but the intensity and assuredness with which he kissed her had her unknowingly closing them in pleasure. Her own sensuality had him pressing hips lips harder against hers, insistent and greedy. Her resolve collapsed as his tongue brushed over the curve of her lip. Her body molded to his as she melted into him.
And then he pulled back, just as swiftly as it had begun it was over. Inside her mind was screaming, a mess of emotions and thoughts threatened to overwhelm her. Far too many to process. But her face remained neutral, masking everything she felt with a calm exterior.
Her eyes locked with his and she took a moment to study the man who had just kissed her. He was something out of one of her stories, with his dark black hair curled against his forehead, the sharp cut of his jawline, the cocky look in his eye that told her he rarely heard the word no.
His gaze left hers and went to the two boys who stood with their mouths hanging wide open in disbelief. So Gwyn did just that, she went along with it, draping her body over his, ignoring the butterflies attacking her stomach. “What took you so long?” She crooned. “I was looking for you.”
He gave her a wicked smile of delight. “I’m sorry, my love. I was caught up at work.” He glared at the two boys. “We’re these two bothering you?”
“Oh of course not,” Her voice became soft and sweet, “These boys were just keeping me company until you arrived.” She bit her lip and smiled a sly smile. “But now that you’re here, I guess I won’t be needing them any longer.”
“You heard the lady, get out.” He spoke softly, though his tone held more bite than she had expected.
Gwyn watched as Cassian’s cousins practically bolted out of the room. She quickly removed her arm from around his waist, though his grip kept firm against her shoulders for a few seconds too long before letting go.
She sat down at the bar, content to go back to her drinking but the man sat right next to her, taking a sip of one of the three drinks she had previously ordered. “Scotch?”
She nodded and they sat in silence for a few moments, before Gwyn’s curiosity got the best of each other. “Might I ask the name of my knight in shining armor?” She mocked slightly.
He held up his hands, “Hey I could have left you to drown out there, though I prefer women not be harassed by pigs.”
His smile was faint but it was there. “Doesn’t count.”
“I did the fastest thing I could think of to get them away from you.” Everything about him carried the bitter guilt of someone who had seen another in her place though the outcome was certainly different.
“Using misogyny to my advantage? Clever.”
“I’d say so.” He agreed. “Though your ability to react in the moment was inspiring.”
“Maybe I missed my true calling as an actress.”
“The number of Oscars that could have adorned your dresser.”
Gwyn held her hand over her chest and pretended to wipe away a tear. “I cannot thank you all enough for this award of a lifetime. It would not have been possible without my adoring fans, my mother who supported me through it all, and last but certainly not least, my partner in crime, the mysterious stranger who has yet to tell me his name that pushed me into accepting the role that got me to where I am today.” He snorted and Gwyn grinned taking another sip of her scotch. “Another lifetime perhaps.”
“I can see it now, redhead conquers Hollywood.”
She laughed a sweet genuine laugh.
“Though that whole being on top of me was a little bit much.”
Gwyn didn’t take the bait, instead drawling. “What so you can kiss a random girl at a wedding but a little physical contact is too much for you.”
“It was unexpected,” He reasoned.
“I only, what were the words you used? ‘followed your lead.’”
“You played your part a little too well.”
“It’s not my fault if you can’t be a professional.”
“hmm.” He had no response to that one.
She smiled victorious but changed the subject, “I didn’t see you at the ceremony, how do you know the groom?”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “What?” She started defensively. “I’ve been friends with the bride for years, if she knew you, trust me, I would’ve known.”
He smirked and Gwyn realized that she had just inadvertently complimented him and heat ran up the back of her neck, flushing her cheeks red. If he noticed, he didn’t comment on it. He definitely noticed. “I came back into town for Cas’s wedding but my plane got delayed so I wasn’t able to be at the ceremony.
“I was in Hong Kong for a few months on business. I go back tomorrow morning.”
His smirk ran wild with cockiness. “Yeah I was sent by my company as a representative of the American office.”
For a moment Gwyn didn’t respond, a thought grasping her attention, her mind hadn’t even registered what he had said.
“Were you at a Taylor swift concert back in 15′?”
His eyes widened slightly, perhaps it was at the randomness of her question or perhaps it was her total lack of interest in his position of power at his job.
“Oh never mind than, I just have the strangest feeling that we have met before.”
“And this Taylor swift concert in 2015?” He asked, amused.
Gwyn smiled into her scotch and responded slyly, “Story for another time.”
He finished her drink in one gulp before voicing the question on his mind. “May I ask why you were sitting here alone.”
“How could I be alone with those two lovely gentlemen keeping me company.” He didn’t respond, waiting patiently for her to speak the truth.
“Trying not to ruin the night with my piss-poor attitude.” She stated simply.
“Bullshit, you were smiling brighter than the damn stars just a moment ago.”
“Oddly enough that was the most fun I’d had all night. You should have seen me before. I’m pretty sure I told the bartender that life was meaningless and that love doesn’t exist.”
“I didn’t strike you as a cynic.”
“I’m actually a hopeless romantic.” She rolled her eyes to play the truth off as sarcasm. Something about the way he tilted his head and took a sip of his drink told her he saw right through her.
“Well, I don’t believe that you should be wasting a perfectly good evening drowning in self-pity.”
“Pity? Sounds like you’re about to take pity on the sad, lonely girl at the bar.”
“Not once did I ever say any of those things.”
“Didn’t have to. It’s all shit I already know.”
“Things you know? Or things you believe?”
Gwyn huffed out of breath, “A distinction without a difference.”
“Oh I disagree.” His words drew her in, even when she knew she should run. “Only one of those things is true. You may see a sad, lonely girl at the bar, but I see a girl at the bar in need of a reminder.”
“That a kind, stubborn, beautiful girl like you was not made for the sidelines.”
“So after one kiss and a 15 minute conversation, you think know everything about me?”
“Not even a little, but I would love to found out.”
“What makes you think you will get the chance?”
“Because, correct me if I’m wrong, I think I intrigue you. And I think tonight you are in need of a little adventure and excitement.”
He locked eyes with her. “And I’ve decided I like seeing you smile.”
“A bridesmaid and a groomsman? Seems like a fated disaster, and a little cliche no?”
“One, I’m not here with anyone and I don’t believe you are either. Two how about I propose a deal?”
She didn’t respond but he continued undeterred.
“Why don’t wedding flings ever work out?”
“What is it about wedding flings that ensure the majority end in failure?”
“Because,” She considered it for a moment. “Seeing your friends finding love and happiness bring out a craving in us to do the same. Those seemingly big romantic moments are always clouded by the jealousy of wanting what you don’t have. And when the next day comes,”
He finished her sentence. “The magic of the wedding is over. And the memories of a perfect night that could have been looked back on fondly, are ruined.” He paused before continuing. “So how about we have that perfect night?”
Gwyn’s brow rose in confusion, “What do you mean?”
“How about we dance and laugh and live one flawless evening with no expectations of what tomorrow may be. Just us. Right here. Right now.”
“Come on, that kiss? I know you felt it too.” She had, it was unlike any she’d experienced before.
“And when dawn comes?” She questioned.
“We never see each other again, no name, no number, not even a physical souvenir, just the memory of that one epic summer night where we didn’t need any of those things,” His eyes gleamed with a challenge. One she would be insane to take. “Just the company of a perfect stranger fit to remain one.”
He stood up and held out his hand to her. “So what do you say? Turn a night of jealousy into one any author would be desperate to put to paper.”
It was reckless, it was foolish, men like him weren’t supposed to exist. Her mind was an endless void of voices warning her all the ways this could go wrong.
She looked him dead in the eye, “No tomorrow?”
His grin was feral and she grinned right back. “No tomorrow.”
Because didn’t you know? Gwyneth Berdara never turned away a challenge.
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