Sweet Cheeks by K. Bromberg Page A

like someone shook a salt shaker filled with glitter to the sky . . . little flecks of bright lights everywhere.
    I smile wide knowing exactly what I need to do. I lift my finger and point. “That right there is the constellation named ‘I’m Sorry.’”
    Her sigh fills the tree house. “Oh, please.”
    “No. Wait. I get the one named ‘I Was a Dick’ confused with the one ‘I’m Sorry’ so give me a minute. Nope. I’m right. That’s definitely, ‘I’m Sorry.’”
    “That’s very convenient.”
    “First rule of acting is learning how to improvise.” Her laugh fills the night and I might have gotten my foot in the door.
    “Seems you’ve got that down pat.”
    “I mean it, Saylor. I’m sorry.” The explanations I had worked out in my head die on my lips because they’d just sound like bullshit excuses. I can see that now, so I leave it at that. I hope she hears the apology and knows how much I mean it.
    But she doesn’t say anything for a while. Just stares quietly at the stars while I try and figure out what to do next. In reality, I’m perfectly comfortable on this hard wooden floor with my legs folded like a pretzel so I can fit in this small space beside her.
    “Mitch’s last name is Layton.” Saylor’s sudden comment surprises me.
    “I think I remember him.” How could I not ? The popped collar, egotistical, trust fund baby. Even in high school he thought he was better than everyone else. I can’t imagine how he is now. I tread carefully. “How’s he doing?” Feign interest. Pretend I care.
    She laughs but the sound isn’t lighthearted. “He’s getting married.” I hesitate in response because I haven’t thought this through far enough ahead, and I’m not sure if I should play that I know this yet or act like I don’t. “ And not to me .”
    “Oh.” My response is as much shock that she’s just confessed, as it is an act. And I decide to keep quiet. To let her take this conversation where she wants to ease my guilt over lying to her once again.
    “Yep.” Her laugh holds no humor at all. “I just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t marry him. Over six years, Hayes. Six years down the fricking drain and all because I looked at him and . . . I don’t know.”
    “You looked at him and what?” I can’t help it. I have to ask. Have to pry. Have to find out why it sounds like she still loves the prick when she’s the one who broke things off.
    That much I do know from Ryder. He had sounded proud as hell of Say when he told me she dumped the sorry ass.
    She turns her head to face me, the heat of her breath hitting the side of my cheek as I keep my eyes trained on the sky, because fuck if I trust myself right now to not take advantage of a situation I shouldn’t even be in.
    “I looked at him and realized he didn’t make me feel how yo . . . Nothing. Never mind. It just wasn’t right.” She laughs again. Nerves tinge the edges. “Can you believe he had the audacity to invite me to the wedding? To my wedding?”
    “Your wedding?” She can’t be that drunk she’s mixing things up, can she?
    “ Yep . My wedding. All my planning. All the stupid hours I spent perfecting every detail. All he did was change the date and the bride. Who does that ?”
    “Wait a minute. They’re copying your plans?”
    “Yep. From what I can tell it seems so. Same paradise location. Same ceremony time. Even the damn invitations. What kind of woman gets married to a man and keeps all of the ex’s wedding plans? Well, good thing she has the same initial in her first name so they could save all the monogrammed crap his mom bought.”
    I laugh. Can’t help it. Ryder never told me this part of the story. “Maybe his mother talked her into it.”
    She snorts again. “ Uptight Ursula .”
    I laugh. She sounds like the freckled face girl from before. “That’s her name?”
    “No. But that’s what I call her. And you’re probably right about her talking the new girlfriend into it. She was