Sure Thing(60)
“We did have fun, but I’m seeing someone now,” I tell George with what I hope is a compassionate get-the-fuck-out smile. “I should have been more clear about that,” I add and trail off, assuming he can fill in the obvious. I’m seeing someone, so I’m not sleeping with you. Have a nice night.
“The British guy?”
I nod.
“You just met him.” George is unimpressed.
“When you know, you know,” I quip, but I realize it’s true.
“I didn’t think you were into that.”
“Into what? Love?”
He shrugs. “Yeah.”
“Thanks.” My tone is sarcastic. “Well, I am. Sorry to put an end to your Historic East Coast tour booty call.” I say it a little sharply because fuck him. Any guilt I felt about interfering is gone. Daisy deserves better.
“I didn’t think you were a serious kind of girl, that’s all.” He has the decency to look chagrined as he says it.
It makes me wonder if it’s harder being Daisy. Being the fun twin. I always thought it must be easier, but maybe not. She’s not as cautious as me. She dives into things, into relationships. She takes risks and assumes the best out of everyone. But it doesn’t mean it’s easier for her.
It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when she’s not taken seriously. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve something more. Something real.
I walk George to the door and spend the rest of the night convincing myself that I’m going to see Jennings in the morning.
I don’t believe it though.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Jennings
“Thanks for picking me up,” I tell Rhys as I sling my bag into the boot of his Tesla. He slams the lid and wraps his arms around me in his typical American bear hug, slapping me on the back with enthusiasm. I pat his back half-heartedly and glance at his car. “New?”
“Yeah. Got it when I made the move to Vegas. You want to drive it?”
“No, Rhys, I’m drunk.”
“From the plane?” He shakes his head in judgement. “They don’t even have any decent liquor on board.”
He’s not wrong. But I made do just the same.
“It’s not yet three o’clock and you’re drunk on cheap liquor,” Rhys summarizes as he looks me over. “And you didn’t bring your new lady friend.”
“My lady friend?” I glare in his direction but he likely misses it, as I slipped shades over my eyes the moment I cleared the automatic doors and stepped outside. Bloody desert is brighter than the surface of the sun. “You’re a tosser.”
“Daisy,” Rhys says as if he needs to clarify. As if I have multiple lady friends, Jesus.
“Do you have any bourbon at your suite? Better yet, have the hotel bars been stocked yet?” I ask as I open the passenger door. The queue of cars picking up passengers at McCarran is three deep and the shrill whistle of security attempting to manage the chaos is not helping my mood.
“Plenty of liquor, I promise you,” Rhys tells me as he slides behind the wheel. “How’s Nan?”
“She’s fine.” I slump in the seat and get comfortable, flipping the visor down to block out the sun. “The hospital kept her one night as a precaution but she’s fit as ever. Dropped her off with your mum yesterday. Slept in your old bedroom and your mum made me pancakes for brekkie.”
“Lucky bastard.”
“She sent biscuits for you. They’re in my bag.”
“The shortbread?”
“The very same. I think she’s worried about you.”
“Worried? Why?”
“I believe she’s concerned that you’re living in a casino and hooking up with women of questionable moral character.”
Rhys laughs. “My mother did not say ‘hooking up.’”
“Nah, I think she just wants you to call more often. In any case I assured her you’re still a virgin and that you’ll call this weekend.”
“Thanks. Owe you one.”
We’re silent as Rhys merges the car into traffic. Once we’re past the airport loop and onto Swenson he asks again about Daisy.
“You bloody Americans are so nosey.” I groan.
“I can tell you about the dancer of questionable moral character I fucked last night, if you prefer.”
“Jesus, Rhys.” I close my eyes behind my sunglasses and rub my temple, a headache already forming.
“So what happened? Talk it out, buddy. I thought this girl was going to make an honest man out of you.”
“Honesty wasn’t her strong suit, as it turns out.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
He’s silent once again and I’m hopeful that’s the end of his inquisition. It’s not, of course. Because hoping has nil to do with reality.