“Right, and I—”
“Five minutes!” He kisses my cheek and jogs toward the men’s change room. “Gimme five minutes! Gotta freshen up for my favorite birthday girl!” He winks and disappears before he can catch my eye roll.
Sure, we’re friends, and yes, we spend 75 percent of our time together in intimate positions with his roaming hands on me. Still, on a pseudo–lunch date with Simon ideally isn’t how I’d spend my twenty-fourth birthday. In fact, I can think of at least ten better ways to spend it, like a two-hour couch nap, jilling off in my bedroom, or taking my cat for a walk.
I don’t have a cat.
But I’m partial to free food, and we wind up at Taco Cantina, which is nice—tacos are life—though I’m unimpressed with Simon’s insistence to share the chips and guac as a starter. He devours all but two chips I manage to sneak.
“Oops.” His fingers brush the dusty bottom of the teak chip bowl. “Kinda ate it all, didn’t I?”
“You sure did.”
He dismisses me with a wave. “S’okay. You don’t wanna worry about the extra calories.”
My brows rocket so fast up my forehead I’m worried they might fly right off. “Pardon?”
“The extra calories.”
“Right, I heard you. I was giving you a chance to change your words.” I sip my virgin mojito, savoring the sweet tang. “When has it ever been okay to comment on what a woman should or shouldn’t eat?”
He regards me cautiously. “Calm down, Jennie. I was joking. And it’s not like you’re not used to it.”
I am used to it, that’s exactly the problem. I’ve spent my entire life fighting the urge to cower from the scrutinizing stares of dance coaches that nitpick any amount of softness, that scour my food logs, searching for any indication that I’ve been anything other than strict with my diet, something to explain why I’m moving a bit sluggish one week, or why my outfit fits a little snugger one morning. I’ve hugged too many toilet bowls and cried, afraid of harsh words, but more afraid to start an addiction that can too quickly turn lethal.
That I can sit here now and order three loaded tacos and a sugary drink without a care in the world or an ounce of remorse is a miracle, something I’ve been working toward since high school with an incredible amount of therapy. I won’t let Simon’s careless words steal years of progress.
And then he adds: “Plus, the winter show is next month. You don’t wanna be packing on unnecessary pounds.”
I keep from crushing my glass simply because this drink is banging. “You’re digging your own grave. Keep it up, and I’m going to put you in it.” I tack the dipshit on in my head.
He covers my hand with his. “You know I think you’re the most beautiful girl out there, Jennie. I’m lucky to have you as a partner.”
I smile up at the waiter, mouthing a silent “Thank you” as he slides a platter of tacos in front of me. To Simon, I say, “Damn right you are.”
He devours half a taco in one bite. “Your brother still married?”
“It’s been two weeks, so, yeah.” Also, Carter’s obsessed with Olivia. Good thing he’s a professional hockey player. If he were in town every day, Olivia might strangle him. I’m still unsure how I made it twenty-four years without doing it myself. My brother’s great, he’s just a little…boisterous? Ostentatious? Self-assured? Extra as fuck? All of the above?
“Two weeks seems like more than he can handle in a committed relationship,” Simon manages, showing me a mouthful of ground beef, lettuce, and cheese. How he manages to get into the skirts of every girl in the dance program at SFU is far beyond what my mind can comprehend.
“Should I remind you you’re as big a manwhore as Carter was prior to Olivia?”
“I am not.”
I accidentally cackle. Whoops.
Simon rolls his eyes. “How come your brother gets the chance to change his reputation, but I don’t? Maybe I want to settle down too.”
Do people deserve the benefit of the doubt? Normally. But I know this man. I’ve watched him lure in countless girls with his charm, only to sleep with one for a week or two before replacing her with another, one he likes to flaunt right in front of the former. He tosses women away without thought, all the while never missing an opportunity to hit on me.
Like right now, as he hooks his ankle around mine, pulling my legs between his under the table. He smirks that fucking smirk, and I’m reminded of exactly why I’ve affectionally labeled him Simon Syphilis.
“C’mon, Jennie. Let’s go back to my place. Lemme give you a real birthday present.”
“Yeah.” I catch the waiter’s eye, twirl one finger in the air, then point at my tacos. “Can I get a to-go box, please?” I lay my chin on my laced fingers and smile. “You know, Simon, I’d absolutely love to. Love to stay and finish this lunch too.” I accept the small box from the waiter with a grateful smile and start lining up my tacos inside. “Unfortunately, I don’t feel like making any fuckboy-sized mistakes today.”
I stand and pop a chaste kiss on his cheek, mentally cataloging his epically surprised face into the never wanna forget this file in my brain. “Thanks for my birthday tacos. Can’t wait to enjoy them silently and alone.”
The thing about a Beckett grin is it’s irresistible, even to other Becketts. My brother can’t say no to me, and I’ve been known to take advantage of that every now and again.
So not only do I get steak and lobster at one of the fanciest restaurants in Vancouver for my birthday dinner, I devour an Oreo explosion banana split at my favorite dessert bar, too, after nothing more than a simple request and a dimple-popping grin. Carter ate two, so as I follow him down the street after dinner, I’m trying not to let the fifteen pounds I feel like I’ve gained tonight weigh too heavily on my mind.
Still, I’m stuffed, uncomfortable as hell, and Carter’s making me walk. Plus, it’s cold as balls and I’m wearing my pretty coat, not my warm coat.
I shiver, snuggling my chin into my scarf. “I’m cold. Where are we going? How come Hank got to go home after dinner, but we’re subjected to walking in the snow? Don’t you love us?”
Carter ignores me, but Olivia groans, both mitten-sheathed hands on her stomach. “I need to walk all that food off. I ate way too much.”
I pat her adorable baby bump. “Little mama was hungry. That’s okay.”
“Little mama is always hungry.”
“Big daddy’s always hungry too,” Carter rumbles, patting his torso.
I make a yuck face. “Please, no. Never again.”
He deflates, frowning. “What? Why?”
“Because that’s utterly disgusting.”
“You’re dramatic.” He wraps an arm around his wife, pressing his mouth to her ear but not lowering his voice. “I could eat again, just not something suitable for public if you know what I—”
“Carter!” She slaps a palm across his mouth before yanking him down to eye level. “For the love of God,” she whispers in that threatening teacher voice of hers. “For once in your life, stop talking.”
His smirk is slow as we stop in front of a tall building downtown. “I just wanna love you out loud. Why won’t you let me love you out loud?”
Olivia gives him a reassuring pat while my mom swoons and I gag. “Trust me, baby. Nobody loves as loud as you do.”
Carter grins proudly and opens the glass doors. He ushers us into an elevator before I have time to admire the exquisite lobby, and as we ride up to the twenty-first floor, he finally answers the question I asked a full two minutes ago. “I do love you. Best sister ever.” He pushes me into the hallway. “That’s why we got you the best present ever.”
“Present? Here?” My head cranks, taking in the numbered doors lining the hallway. “Carter, this is a condo building.”