Love Unrehearsed

“What?”

“My lawyer, Len Bainbridge, called me yesterday. He and David are working it out but I have to settle up with her. Her bill was seventy-five thousand.”

“Are you going to pay that?”

“I’m going to have to. But not until we get all the expensive lawyers involved first.”

“God, she’s infuriating. I still think she’s the one who leaked your anxiety medicine to the press.”

“I think so, too. Can’t prove it, though, unless we find the source. I’ll mention that to my lawyer.”

“Well, I doubt it was Trish. She’s got too much to lose being that careless. And it surely wasn’t Mike. None of my friends know, well, besides Marie. Your family wouldn’t talk to the press, so that leaves David, Marla, or the woman at the pharmacy.”

“David wouldn’t talk to the press.”

“Well, then what does that tell you?”

“Tells me that the list of people I can trust just got smaller.”

I was feeling mostly relaxed and right with the world when we came back to the apartment on Sunday—that was until we had to deal with the four fangirls camped out by my back door. I was shocked that these college-aged girls had nothing more important to do with their lives than hang out in an alleyway all day hoping for a glimpse of Ryan.

Ryan, of course, was gracious as always, signing crap and posing several times until they were all satisfied with the pictures they captured.

We have to move, I thought as we trudged up the steps, trying to be loud enough so we wouldn’t walk into an awkward situation going on inside my apartment.

Mike was sprawled out on my couch, wearing nothing but baggy gray sweatpants, a black sleeveless undershirt, and a wellsated glow. He looked like a giant lion lying belly-up in the sun with his legs hanging open, licking his paws and airing out his balls. I figured Marie would be twined around him, enjoying their postcoital bliss, but she was in the kitchen making coffee.

“You both look well rested,” she said, smiling at Ryan and me. Ryan winked at her and took our bags to our room.

I took a cup out of the cabinet. “We had a couples massage yesterday. I wish I could hire someone to do nothing but rub my shoulders every day. You look well ridden and glowing yourself.”

“You know it.” Marie gave me a high-five.

She carried a cup of coffee out to Mike. Ryan had his feet up on my coffee table, looking just as relaxed and contented as his buddy.

The lascivious grins flying around my living room were humorous. I felt my body heat up just from thinking about what Ryan did to me that morning . . . and the night before . . .

and after our couples massage yesterday.

The way Mike looked at Marie, I wondered if he was already falling in love with her.

Marie sat on the arm of the couch next to Mike. I liked seeing him reach for her with tender familiarity, as if he couldn’t wait to touch her again. “Do you think you guys can help me today?” Her eyes traveled over each of us. “I’d like to get some of my stuff from my old house.”

Within an hour, we were all standing in Gary’s front yard. Seeing Marie have to knock on her own front door to gain access infuriated me. The bastard actually had the audacity to change all the door locks on her.

Gary came out of the house, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Just let me get my clothes!” Marie screamed at him, shaking with frustration.

The first few times she tried to ask nicely and beg him to let her in didn’t work.

Gary jingled the car keys in his hands, blocking our entry into the house. “You should have called first. I’ve got someplace to be. Now’s not a good time.”

Marie groaned loudly. I knew how irritated she felt; I wanted to choke the asshole myself.

“Gary, easy.” Ryan tried the friendly and nonthreatening approach first, placating him. “Let us just get some of her things. Just her clothing and stuff and then we’ll be out a here. We won’t take anything else. You have my word.”

Gary snorted with derision, stepping into Ryan’s path. “Screw you, Ryan. Stay the hell out of my house. This is all your fucking fault, you know. Shit was fine until you came around.”

I bristled with horror when Gary said that.

How the hell could Ryan be responsible for the demise of their marriage? In an instant, Mike shouldered up to Ryan, forever in protection mode. I could see the anger roil-ing through him as he squeezed his hands in-to fists. I had no doubt Mike desired to level Gary just for the sheer enjoyment of it.

Ryan appeared just as surprised as we all were. “My fault? You’re kidding, right?” Marie moved closer to the door. “What is wrong with you? How the hell is any of this his fault? You’re delusional.” Gary sneered at her. “Oh, fuck you, Marie.