For Better or Worse

“Let me get this straight,” he said, leaning forward. “You’ve already recruited me to be your professional sidekick for Danica’s wedding, and now you’re wanting me to help you date as well? What’s next? You want me to breathe for you, too?”

She leaned forward, matching his posture. “Well, why not live my life? God knows you’re not living yours, are you, Tanner?”

Josh’s head snapped back in surprise. That was bullshit. Utter bullshit. He was living. Hell, that’s why he hadn’t gone back to his old job. Why he was pursuing his dreams, why he was refusing to go back to being a destructive workaholic . . .

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” she said quietly. “Maybe I’m wrong, it just seems that beneath all the quips and winks, you seem a tiny bit . . . lost.”

What the fuck.

His burst of temper was suppressed by the appearance of their server, and neither said a word as the obliviously cheerful man put their entrees in front of them.

Then they were alone again, and Josh took a deep breath.

“Just because I don’t have every minute of every day mapped out as part of some grand life plan doesn’t mean I’m lost,” he said quietly.

“Hey!” she said, her voice wounded. “I was just trying to help you the way you’ve helped me.”

“Well, don’t,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Let’s just drop it.”

“Josh—”

“I said drop it, Heather.”

“Look, I obviously struck a nerve, and I’m sorry. I just think—”

“I don’t care what you think. We clear?”

Her mouth clamped shut, and he saw from the tension in her jaw that she was gritting her teeth.

“Yeah,” she said after several tense moments of silence. “We’re clear.”

“Good,” he said quietly, picking up his knife and fork.

They began eating in awkward silence, Heather shooting him death glares from over the top of her water glass, and Josh waited for the sense of relief that she was backing off from interfering in his life.

But the relief never came.

His life was exactly as he wanted it—exactly as he’d carefully shaped it to be.

So why did it feel like it no longer fit?

Chapter Fourteen

I’M JUST SAYING, THE man stuck around for brunch with your friends. He made brunch for your friends. Are you really telling me there’s nothing there?” Brooke took a demure sip of her Veuve Clicquot, nailing Heather with that dead-on look that pulled the truth out of her like magic.

It was Friday night, and they were out on the town for a belated celebration of Alexis’s birthday, but in classic Alexis style, there were no shots, no nightclubs, no too-short skirts. Instead it was a quiet night at a classy Midtown champagne bar.

A handful of Alexis’s nonwork friends had shown up as well, but after making the requisite small talk, Heather found herself huddled around a small table with Brooke, who, in between sexting with Seth, seemed determined to talk about the one thing Heather didn’t want to talk about:

Josh Tanner.

Heather sighed and sipped the delicious sparkling rosé she’d ordered. “I’m positive. I’m not crazy enough to get involved with my neighbor. Then we’d break up, and I’d have to move because it’d be awkward.”

“What makes you think you’d break up?” This was from the woman sitting on the other side of Brooke: Leah McHale, a stunning redhead and one of the Belles’ go-to wedding photographers. Heather had known Leah and her boyfriend, fellow photographer Jason Rhodes, for years. Had actually helped them get together, if she wanted to get braggy.

Heather gave Leah a look. “You’d understand if you saw him. He is not the type of guy who sticks around. Brooke? Back me up here.”

Brooke pursed her glossy lips as she pulled her long blond hair into a messy knot atop her head. “He did kind of look the part of an overgrown frat boy.”

“Trust me, he acts the part, too,” Heather said.

“Still doing the loud music thing, huh?”

“Yeah, although we’ve set up some boundaries,” Heather admitted as she pulled the bowl of spiced nuts toward her, shaking it around until she found another almond.