After the final product was displayed, Jace whispered next to her. “Does it make me less of a man to admit I didn’t know half of what she was saying?”
“No, that makes you normal,” Char said.
“Good, because I started getting worried about a quarter of the way through.”
Laughing, Char patted him on the arm, just as Jake’s eyes fell on her hand from across the room. He shook his head, lips in a firm line, and made his way down the hall.
“Any questions?” Lola asked. The lights went up.
Grandma was swaying in the middle of the room with her wine. The fight had gone out of Petunia. Either that or she was dead. Jury was still out. Her eyes were closed and she was leaning back on the couch with her mouth open.
“You killed her.” Char pointed to Petunia.
“I drugged her.” Grandma did a little twirl. “She wouldn’t stop complaining about the party, so I crushed a Benadryl into her juice.”
“Grandma!” Char scolded. “That’s dangerous!’
Grandma took a long sip of her wine. “I dated a pharmacist once.”
“Doesn’t make you a pharmacist.”
“Ah, details.”
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Char decided not to fight that battle.
“Are you okay, dear?” Grandma’s eyebrows furrowed with concern.
“Headache.” Heartache; same thing.
“I’ve got aspirin just down the hall in my room. Go grab one, they’re on my nightstand next to the Benadryl. Just be sure to take the white pill and not the pink pill. The pink pill will have you three sheets to the wind after all that wine.”
Nodding, Char walked off down the hall to grab some aspirin. Grandma’s room was on the bottom floor because she hated climbing stairs. Kacey had said that just this last year Grandma had wanted to move upstairs because she’d watched the movie Up and thought it would be fun to have one of those chairs that attaches to stairs like a ride.
She was vetoed.
With a sigh, she pushed open the door and found Jake and Amy in an embrace. Amy’s arms were wrapped tightly around his neck and she was wearing nothing but cheap lingerie from the party.
Jake pushed her away, and then saw Char.
“Do you mind?” Amy spat in Char’s direction. “We’re kind of busy here.”
“Char, wait!” Jake called, but she was already running, in platform heels no less, down the hall and out the door.
Chapter Forty-one
“Damn it, Amy!” Jake yelled. “What the hell is wrong with you? I said I wasn’t interested.”
“You looked interested.” Her eyebrow arched as she tried to get close to him again.
Jake lifted his hands to stop her. “Seriously, not interested. Not now, not ever.”
“Guys like you…”
“Guys like me, what?” Jake sneered. “Finish what you were going to say.”
She licked her lips and crossed her arms. “They don’t say no.”
Jake nodded. “You’re right.”
Amy’s smile was vicious as she approached.
“I must not be that guy anymore.” He stormed out of the room in search of Char.
An hour later, he still hadn’t located her to apologize. The only damn reason he’d been in that room in the first place was because Amy had had so much to drink that he didn’t want her to ruin the party by going crazy—he’d seen her pop a few pills before her last glass of wine.
Muffling another curse, Jake made his way upstairs to get some of the oil off and to change into clothes that didn’t make him look like a poorly paid prostitute. Funny, how just a few months ago he would have been totally okay with looking like this. Now he just felt dirty, used, gross.
He’d grabbed a wet cloth and started wiping off the oil when a phone started ringing. He looked over at the nightstand. It was Char’s phone, and the screen told him the call was from her job.
She’d been ignoring her phone the whole weekend so he figured he’d just ignore it, too.
But ten minutes later, after two more missed calls, he lost his patience.
“Hello?” he snapped the minute it rang for the third time.
“Who the hell is this?” a man yelled.
“Jake Titus. Why? Who’s this?”
“Mike Cromwell. I’m your little girlfriend’s boss.”
Jake didn’t have the strength to say that they were anything but dating, and that Char was probably planning on killing him in his sleep tonight. “What can I do for you, Mike?”
“You can tell Char that she has exactly six hours to get a story to me or she’s fired.”
“A story?” Jake repeated. “Any story?”
“No, you idiot.” Mike cursed into the phone. “The wedding. She’s supposed to be covering the wedding.”