Page 58 of Ravaged With You

“You’re not. Really.” The truth is, my feelings for Red seem more right to me than anything has in a long time. So it’s not awkwardness I feel, it’s frustration for the way he’s pushing me away, and anger at the people who messed him up so much that he doesn’t trust himself to be with me.

I don’t say that, though. Today needs to be about Abby and Renly, and I take her hand and tug her toward the Pictionary area. Emma comes over with scorecards in her hands. “You two okay?”

“We’re fine,” I assure her. “We somehow got on the topic of my husband. A sad topic, and not suitable for a wedding shower,” I say with a stern look towards Abby.

“Nonsense,” Emma says. “It’s all the cycle right? And I didn’t know him, but I doubt he wanted you to sit home. He’d want you to remember the good times. To honor him and enjoy your life. Let this be a reminder of how short it can be. Believe me, I’ve danced with death more times than I can count. Don’t sit it out when life invites you onto the floor.”

I’m smiling when she finishes that speech and I reach forward and pull her into a hug, not even asking if it was okay. Thankfully, she hugs me back. From what I’ve heard about Emma, you can’t be too sure about that kind of thing.

“And on that wise counsel,” she says, “it’s now time to turn to something more base.”

“Pictionary?”

“That’s next,” Emma says, taking Abby’s hand. “First, we need to put you in the Princess seat.”

“Oh my God,” I say. “It’s stripper time?”

Abby gives me a look filled with both anticipation and trepidation as Emma leads her away to a chair that’s been decorated as a throne.

Then someone starts the music, and a dude dressed like a fireman struts into the room. Assuming fire stations let half-naked men work there.

It’s so campy and stupid that I can’t help but laugh, especially when he starts to do his bump-and-grind routine right in front of Abby’s face.

The man’s built, I’ll give him that. But the more he starts to tease and play—the more clothing he starts to peel away—the more I find myself thinking of Red, and hoping that somehow we can make this thing between us work out.

Chapter Eighteen

“—friends for years.”

Red blinked, realizing he’d zoned out. “Sorry, what?”

He and Renly were standing by the bar at Blacklist, waiting for the harried bartender to come take their order for the few drinks and snacks they needed to refresh their table.

“I said it looks like we’re both going to end up with our best friends,” Renly said.

Red shot his brother a sideways look. “You’re the one who lucked out, buddy. I’m not going to end up with Jo. No way would I saddle her with the likes of me.”

Renly took a sip of his beer as he studied Red, the inspection taking so long that Red started to squirm. “You ever going to tell me what happened?”

Red stirred the cherry in his Coke. “Probably not.”

“Fair enough.” He grabbed a handful of nuts, then chewed them slowly. Finally, he said, “Can I offer you some free advice?”

“This is your bachelor party, bro. Not a therapy session for me.” He glanced at the table, hoping one of the other men would come to his rescue, but they were all laughing and chowing down on the cheese fries and nachos they’d ordered.

“You want the damn advice or not?”

Red sighed. “Lay it on me.”

“Don’t do what Mom did. Don’t wait decades to make the right decision.”

Red shook his head. “It’s not the same.”

Renly scooped one of the cheese fries off of his plate and popped it in his mouth. “Not directly, no.” He chewed and swallowed. “But ask yourself this—what are you scared of? Deep down, do you really believe that Jo can’t deal with your shit? Or are you afraid that you won’t be able to deal with it if you let yourself take the risk and she says no?”

“Renl—”

His brother held up a hand. “All I’m saying is that I don’t know what’s going on with you, not completely. But I have an idea. We know each other well enough. And let me tell you, if it’s the latter, then you’re a fool. Because Jo’s a hell of a lot stronger than you think.”