JOSH
Jules snuckout after making sure the hallway was clear and left me to my own devices.
Restless, I showered, hit the gym, showered again, and watched Fast Five in my room while the girls got ready and left for the palace. Only royal relatives were allowed to stay at the palace for the wedding, so even though the girls were Bridget’s bridesmaids, we were camped out in a five-star hotel, courtesy of the crown.
I usually had no issues entertaining myself while traveling, but the crowd of paparazzi outside the hotel deterred me from venturing out.
Unfortunately, our hotel, as luxurious as it was, lacked stimulating activities. Michelin-starred restaurants and a world-renowned spa were fine, but I needed more excitement.
Alex will be staying behind too.
Jules’s words echoed in my head. What was he doing? Eating babies and ruining lives, probably.
By the time night descended, I was bored enough to join him.
Temptation snaked around my spine, but instead of knocking on his door, I headed downstairs to the bar. It’d been closed earlier, but when I arrived, the telltale glow of lights sent relief coasting through my lungs.
I stepped inside, taking in the two-story ceiling, plush blue velvet couches, and the massive wall of glittering bottles behind the polished mahogany bar. It blew the fanciest bar in D.C. out of the water, times ten.
I slid onto a blue leather stool and waited for the bartender to finish setting up. It must’ve just opened, because we were the only people present, and the space was eerily quiet save for the soft jazz piping through invisible speakers.
Part of me craved the buzz of a crowd; another part relished the silence.
Like in most areas of my life right now, I didn’t know what the hell I wanted.
I drummed my fingers against the counter and scanned the bottle display, searching for a good drink to start the night, when a familiar voice sliced through the silence.
“This seat taken?”
The drumming stopped. Tension locked my muscles in place.
I turned to face the newcomer, already wishing I’d ordered room service instead of braving a common space when Alex was also roaming the grounds.
My former best friend stood a few feet away, dressed in the same black turtleneck and pants he wore on the plane. Fatigue lined his face, and a pinch of concern squeezed my chest.
According to Ava, his insomnia had improved over the years, but there were still times when he went days without sleeping, only to crash afterward.
I remembered several instances during undergrad when he would pass out in the middle of a conversation or study session.
Not that it was my concern anymore.
“Obviously, it isn’t.” I flicked my eyes at the empty stool next to me.
“That’s not what I meant,” Alex said coolly.
A muscle ticked in my jaw. The bastard never made things easy.
In that case, it is taken.
The words hovered on the tip of my tongue, but Jules’s voice floated through my head again.
Being angry at someone is exhausting, and it’s been almost two years. Maybe it’s time to forgive, even if you don’t forget.
Two years.
They’d stretched for an eternity and passed in the blink of an eye all at once.
In that time, Alex and I had only one moment when things between us seemed semi-normal—our ski afternoon in Vermont.
I blamed my twinge of nostalgia for what I said next. “All yours.”
A flicker of surprise crossed his face before it smoothed into its usual impassive mask.
Alex took his seat right as the bartender finished setting up and approached us. “Thanks for waiting,” he said in lightly accented English. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a Macallan neat.” Alex didn’t look at the menu before ordering. There was no doubt a bar as fancy as this one served Macallan.
The bartender nodded and shifted his attention to me.
“A Stella is fine, thanks.” The only Macallan I drank was from my bottle at home, though it now sat empty after I drowned my sorrows over Tanya’s death in it.
Otherwise, the whiskey was too rich for my med school loan-riddled wallet.
“Still haven’t graduated to real alcohol, huh?” Alex drawled after the bartender left to fix our drinks.
“Still haven’t developed taste, huh?” I volleyed back. “It’s okay, man. They’ll still let you into your billionaires’ club if you admit to liking beer.”
“Beer tastes like carbonated urine.” He delivered each word with his trademark icy precision, but a tinge of amusement lurked beneath the surface. “I’m also not discussing taste with someone who once dressed as a rat for Halloween.” He paused before adding, “A rat who wore a red bandanna.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, that was one time.” I’d been a gladiator, Superman, a doctor (not my most inspired costume, I admit), Waldo from Where’s Waldo, and a thousand other personas for Halloween, yet everyone always brought up the fucking rat. “I did it to prove I could pull anyone I wanted even if I was dressed as a rat. And I did.”
The Morgenstern twins. That had been a good night.
The memory of one of my favorite threesomes usually got me going, but tonight, it did nothing for me. Not even a flicker of excitement or desire.
Weird.
“That’s what you always say.” Alex sounded unimpressed.
“Because it’s true. Ask the Morgensterns.”
“Whatever makes you feel better.”
A scowl knotted my brow. “You’re such a goddamn asshole. I don’t know how I was ever friends with you,” I grumbled, accepting my drink from the bartender with a nod of thanks.
Alex’s lips curved, but the air between us suddenly weighed heavy with ghosts from the past—pickup basketball games, late-night study sessions, parties and guys’ trips and random memes we sent each other throughout the day.
Well, l sent him memes and he replied with frowning or eye roll emojis, but Alex had a shit sense of humor, so I didn’t expect him to appreciate my excellent meme selection.
Jules’s advice may have pushed me to extend a tentative olive branch, but the truth was, I missed having a best friend. I missed having Alex as my best friend. He was cold, rude, and grumpy as fuck, but he’d always had my back. Every fight I got into, every bad day I had, he’d been there to bail me out and talk me down.
I took a swig of beer to wash down the sudden tightness in my throat while Alex quietly sipped his drink.
The bar was starting to fill up, and soon, the room buzzed with enough activity to drown out the silence roaring between us.
I finished my beer and was about to order another one when Alex interjected.
“Two more Macallans.” He slid his black Amex across the counter and flicked a glance in my direction. “On me.”
My first instinct was to turn it down, but I wasn’t dumb enough to say no to a free premium drink.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
More silence. God, this was fucking painful.
“How are things going between you and Ava?” I finally asked.
Ava always gushed about their relationship, but she was Alex’s first real girlfriend, and I was curious as hell about his perspective. If I hadn’t witnessed it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have thought him capable of a long-term relationship.
Alex’s face softened. “We’re good.”
“Good. That’s high praise coming from you.” I wasn’t joking. The strongest positive term I’d ever heard him use was fine.
Gourmet steak cooked by a world-famous chef? Fine.
Flying in a private jet? Fine.
Graduating top of his class from Thayer? Fine.
For someone so smart, he had a limited vocabulary.
“I love your sister,” Alex said simply.
My glass froze halfway to my lips. Of course, I knew he loved Ava, but I never in a million years would’ve guessed he’d admit it to anyone except her.
The Alex I knew had zero tolerance for sentimentality. Make it verbal sentimentality and his tolerance dropped into the negatives.
“Good.” I regained motor control. My glass touched my mouth and whiskey flowed into my stomach, but the shock from Alex’s statement lingered. “Because if you hurt her again, I’ll take that stick out of your ass and stab you with it.”
“If I hurt her again, I’ll let you.”
A tense beat passed before I let out a short laugh. “You’ve changed.”
Part of me appreciated the growth, while another part mourned how much time had passed since our friendship ended. Enough that we were funhouse mirror versions of ourselves—the same people at our core but distorted by the changes wrought over time.
“Everyone changes. Without change, we might as well be dead.” It would’ve been an inspiring quote had Alex not delivered it with all the emotion of a block of ice.
“Speaking of Ava…” He rolled his empty glass between his finger, his expression even broodier than usual. “I’d hoped we could talk before the girls came back.”
“What do you think we’re doing right now? Chopping liver?”
“I mean talk.”
My smile fell.
There it was. The giant, trumpeting elephant in the room.
Alex and I had avoided talking about what happened since our confrontation after he broke up with Ava.
How he became my friend only to get closer to my father.
How he’d used Ava and broke her heart.
How he’d lied to me for seven fucking years.