Instead, all I said was “Yes.”
“I’ll have Red drive you home,” he said, referring to the driver he shared with Evan and Tyler.
“Fuck that. I can find my own way home.”
Our eyes met, and for a moment I thought I saw regret. Then it cleared, and he simply nodded. “Take a jacket if you want,” he said, indicating a coat tree on the far side of the room.
Then he left, leaving me standing alone in his office, my dress ripped and my emotions equally in tatters.
five
“Avocado, salmon, and cream cheese,” Flynn said as he slid a plate loaded with the world’s biggest omelette in front of me. “Orange juice,” he added, following the plate with a champagne glass. “Of the mimosa variety. And—because what is breakfast without bacon?—a nice, crunchy side of pig fat.”
I lifted a brow as he put a plate of bacon on the small wooden table that took up most of the apartment’s minuscule breakfast area. “And I’m supposed to eat all of this how?”
“One forkful at a time.” He filled his own plate, then plunked himself down in the chair opposite me. “Consider it guilt food. I was out getting laid last night while you were home doing the morose girl routine.”
“When you put it that way,” I said, then dug in.
There are many benefits to rooming with Flynn. He’s the best cook I’ve ever met. He’s diligent about paying the rent on time. He works as a flight attendant, so he’s often gone for long stretches, thus fulfilling my need for alone time. And when he’s in town, he often picks up a shift at John Barleycorn, a local pub, which also fulfills that solitude thing, but has the added bonus of providing a place to go for drinks with good service guaranteed.
He’s been friends with Angie for years and gets along great with Sloane, so there’s none of the awkwardness that sometimes comes when circles of friends overlap. More than that, he’s easy on the eyes. And he’s straight.
It was that last characteristic that had intrigued me the most when I woke up that morning. Not because I wanted to sleep with him, but because he could provide insight into Cole. At least, I’d hoped he could.
I’d shared the basic overview of what had transpired at the gala while he cracked eggs and fried bacon. Once I had the lightly edited sordid tale out there, I asked him to play shrink and get into Cole’s head for me.
“Like anyone could get inside Cole August,” he said. “Or any of them, for that matter. But Cole . . .” He trailed off with a shrug and a shake of his head.
“What?”
“I’ve known him for as long as Angie has, although I didn’t hang out with him or the others as much, especially once Jahn started spending most of his time in the condo instead of the house,” he added, referring to Angie’s uncle and the downtown condo that she’d inherited when he’d passed away a little over a year ago.
“But?” I pressed.
“But I know him well enough to know that I don’t know him at all.” He shrugged. “He’s not one for oversharing.”
“Neither am I. For that matter, neither are you.”
He lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. “I’m not criticizing. I’m just stating a fact. And as for me, you know all my dark secrets.”
I tapped the omelette with my fork and grinned. “Which is why I get such good treatment.”
“True that.” He sucked down some of his mimosa. “I’m just worried about you. It’s like he’s become an obsession. And you’re not the kind of girl who obsesses.”
Because he had a point, I said nothing.
“You ought to just walk away. I mean, for one, he pretty much told you to. And for another, there’s nobody in the world worth all the mental energy you’ve tossed toward this guy.”
I frowned, turning his words over in my head. “Do you really believe that?”
“Believe what?”