Pru sighed. "Fine. Maybe something's happened between me and Finn, but it's not going to keep happening."
Willa grinned. "So you did sleep with him."
"Past tense," Pru said, her gaze still held prisoner by Elle's. "Even if I wish it wasn't." Dammit. "Where did you get this super power?" she demanded. "I need it."
Elle smiled. "I'd tell you but-"
"-But she'd have to kill you," Willa finished on a laugh. "Love it when you say that."
"Except you never let me say it," Elle pointed out.
Pru's stomach turned over yet again and she put a hand on it. "I really don't feel so good."
"Because you're holding back on your new BFFs," Willa said.
"I like you for Finn," Elle said to Pru. "He hasn't chosen anyone in a long time. I'm glad it's you."
"Oh, no. That's the thing," she said. "It's not me. I mean, it was great. He was great. And when I was with him, I felt . . ." She closed her eyes, the memories washing over her. "Really great." She could still hear his low, sexy voice in her ear telling her what he was going to do to her, and then his even sexier body doing it, taking hers to places it hadn't been in so long she'd nearly forgotten what it was like to be in a man's arms and lose herself.
"So why is it over then?" Haley asked. "Do you realize how rare really great' is? I haven't had really great' in so long I don't even know if I'll recognize it."
"You'll recognize it," Elle said, looking at Pru, waiting on her answer.
But Pru didn't answer. Couldn't. Because she hated the reason why. "It's . . . complicated."
"Honey," Elle said with surprising vulnerability and wistfulness in her voice. "The best things always are." She paused. "You'd be really good for him."
Elle wasn't a woman to say such a thing unless she meant it so Pru felt herself warm a little at that. Even if it wasn't true. She wasn't good for Finn. And when he found out the truth about her and who she was, she'd in fact be very bad for him.
"He hasn't dated since Mellie," Willa said thoughtfully. "And she turned out to be-"
"Willa," Elle said quietly. Warningly.
"I'm sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "But I hated her for what she did to him. To him and Sean."
"It was a long time ago," Elle said firmly.
"A year. He liked her, a lot. And he got hurt," Willa said. "And you hated her for it too, admit it."
Elle gave a slight head nod. "I would have liked to kill her," she said casually in the way most people would comment on the weather.
"And it changed him," Willa said. She turned to Pru. "Mellie had the dressy boutique here in the building for a while before she sold it. She was wild and fun and gregarious, and she was good for Finn. At first. Until-"
"Willa." Elle gave her a long look. "You're telling tales. He's going to kill you."
"Only if you tattle," Willa said. "Pru needs to know what she's up against."
"What am I up against?" Pru whispered in spite of herself, needing to know.
"Mellie and Sean got drunk one night. And they . . ." She grimaced.
Pru gasped. "No," she breathed. "She slept with his brother?"
"Well, apparently when Finn walked in on them they hadn't quite gotten to home plate but it was close enough."
"Finn walked in on them?" Pru asked, horrified, trying to imagine. She didn't have a sibling, but in her fantasies, if she'd had a sister or brother, they would stand at her back, always. "How awful."
Willa nodded. "It caused a big fight, but they've always fought. Sean had had way too much to drink that night, he was really out of it, and later he kept saying he'd never have made a move on her if he'd been in his right mind. But Mellie wasn't drunk. She knew exactly what she was doing."
"But why would she do that to Finn?" Pru asked.
"Because she'd been after him for a commitment. At that time, he was still finishing up his business degree. She hated that he went to classes early in the morning, studied after that, then handled the business side of O'Riley's, and then often had to work the pub all night on top of that. When he wasn't working his ass off on any of those things, he was dead asleep. He was giving everything one hundred percent, even her, but it wasn't enough. She was bored and lonely, two things that didn't agree with her."
Elle slid Willa a look. "You think he's going to thank you for airing his dirty laundry when he finds out?"
"No, I think he'll put out a hit on me," Willa said. "But he's not going to find out. I'm doing our girl a service here, explaining some things about her man that he's certainly not going to explain to her."
"He's not my man," Pru said.
"He's not going to explain," Willa said to Elle as if Pru hadn't spoken, "because he thinks the past should stay in the past."
"He's not my man," Pru repeated, holding her stomach, which was killing her now.
"The past should absolutely stay in the past," Elle said to Willa, something in her voice saying she believed that to the depths of her very soul.
Willa closed her eyes briefly and covered Elle's hand with her own, the two of them sharing a moment that Pru didn't understood. They had history. She got that. They were close friends, and clearly there was a lot about them that she didn't know. Such as what had happened to Elle to make her want her past to stay buried.
Pru didn't have many people in her life. Her own fault. She didn't let many in. It didn't take a shrink to get why. She'd lost her parents early. Her only other living relative often mistook her for devil spawn. There were some school friends she kept in occasional contact with, and she had her coworkers. And Jake.
But it would be really nice to have Willa and Elle as well.
Her stomach cramped painfully again, which she ignored when Willa took her hand.
"I'm trusting you with this, Pru," she said. "Do you know why?"
Unable to imagine, Pru shook her head.
"Because you're one of us now," she said and looked at Elle. "Right?"
Elle turned her head and met Pru's gaze, studying her solemnly for a long beat before slowly nodding.
Willa smiled. "Look at that." She looked at Pru again. "Here's something you might not know. Elle doesn't like very many people."
Elle snorted.
"It's because she's scary as shit," Haley said, drinking the last of her wine.
"Sitting right here," Elle said calmly, glancing at her nails.
Which were, of course, perfect.
Not appearing scared in the slightest, Willa just smiled. "But one thing about her, she never says anything she doesn't mean. And once you're a friend, you're a friend for life." She paused and glanced at Elle, brow raised.
Elle shrugged.
Willa gave her a long look.
Elle rolled her eyes but she did smile. "Friends for life," she said. "Or until you piss me off. Don't piss me off."
A new warmth filled Pru and her throat tightened. "Thanks," she whispered.
Elle narrowed her eyes. "You're not going to cry, are you? There's no crying on pizza night."
"Just got something in my eye," Pru said with a sniff and swiped under her eyes.
Elle sighed and handed her a napkin. "Look, I know I'm a cold-hearted bitch, but Willa's right, you're one of ours now. And we're yours. This is why we're trusting you with Finn. Because he's also one of ours and he means a lot to us."
"Oh no, you can't trust me with him," she said. "I mean-" She shook her head. "It's just that I'm not-we're not a real thing."
"It's cute you think that." Willa patted her hand. "But I've seen you two together."
Pru opened her mouth to protest but the dessert they'd ordered arrived-a pan-size homemade cookie topped with ice cream, and then there was no speaking as they stuffed their faces.
When Pru was done, it came up on her suddenly. Her stomach rolled again and this time a queasiness rose up her throat with it.
Uh oh.
The good news was that she recognized the problem. The bad news was that she was about to be sick. She searched her brain for what she might have eaten and gasped.
Sushi for lunch.
Which meant she'd made Eddie sick too. "I've got to go," she said abruptly. The last time she'd had food poisoning she'd laid on her bathroom floor for two straight days. Privacy was required for such things, serious privacy. Standing on wobbly legs, she pulled some money from her purse and dropped it on the table. "I'm sorry-" She clapped a hand to her gurgling stomach and shook her head. "Later."
She got a cab, but the traffic and the ensuing stop/ start of navigating said traffic just about killed her. She bailed a block early and moved as fast as she could. When she cut through the courtyard of her building, she slid a quick, anxious look at the pub. Please don't be there, please don't be there . . .
But fate or destiny or karma, whoever was in charge of such things as looking out for her humility, had taken a break because all the pub doors were still open to the night. Finn stood near the courtyard entrance talking to some customers. And like a beacon in the night, he turned right to her.
She kept moving, her hand over her mouth, as if that would keep her from throwing up in public. If she could have sold her soul to the devil right then to ensure it, she totally would have.
But not even the devil himself had enough power to alter her course in history. She was dying at this point, sharp, shooting pains through her gut combined with an all-over body ache that had her whimpering to herself with each step. Holding back from losing her dinner had her sweating in rivulets.
"Pru," came Finn's unbearably familiar voice-from right behind her.
"I'm sorry," she managed, not slowing down. "I can't-"
"We need to talk."
Yep, the only four words in the English language destined to spark terror within her heart. Talk? He wanted to talk? Maybe when she died. And given the pain stabbing through her with the force of a thousand needles, it wouldn't be long now. Still, just in case, she moved faster.
"Pru."
She wanted to say look, I'm about to throw up half a loaded pizza and possibly my intestines, and I like you, I like you enough that if you see me throw up that half a loaded pizza, I'll have to kill myself.
Which, actually, wouldn't be necessary seeing as she was about to die anyway.
"Pru, slow down." He caught her hand.
But the more she put off the now inevitable, the worse it would be. "Not feeling good," she said, twisting free. "I've gotta go."
"What's wrong?" His voice immediately changed from playful to serious. "What do you need?"
What she needed was the privacy of her own bathroom. She opened her mouth to say so but the only thing that came out was a miserable moan.
"Do you need a doctor?" he asked.
Yes, she needed a doctor. For a lobotomy.
With sweat slicking her skin, she ran directly for the elevator, praying that it would be on the ground floor and no one else would want to get on it with her.
Of course it wasn't on the ground floor.
With another miserable moan she headed for the stairwell, taking them as fast as she could with her stomach sending fireballs to her brain and her legs weakened by the need to upchuck.
And oh lucky her, Finn kept pace with her, right at her side.
Which made her panic all the more because seriously, she was on a countdown at this point, T minus sixty seconds tops, and there would be no stopping or averting liftoff. "I'm fine!" she said weakly. "Please, just leave me alone!" She threw her hand out at him to push him away so she could have room in case she spontaneously imploded.
A very real possibility.
But the man who was more tuned into her body than she was had apparently not yet mastered mind reading. "I'm not leaving you alone like this," he said.
She pushed him again from a well of reserved strength born of sheer terror because she was about to become her own horror show and didn't want witnesses. "You have to go!" she said, maybe yelled, as they finally got to the third floor.
Mrs. Winslow stuck her head out her door and gave Pru a disapproving look. "You might be getting some but you're not going to keep getting some if you talk to your man like that. Especially after shoving him into the dumbwaiter the other night."
Oh for God's sake!
How did everyone know about that?
Not that she could ask.
Hell, no. Instead, she stopped and pawed through her purse for her keys before dropping it to scratch and claw at the door like she was being kidnapped and tortured.
Finn crouched down at her feet to pick up her purse and scoop the contests back in. He had a tampon in one hand and Willa's book-Orgasms For One-in the other. He should've looked utterly ridiculous. Instead he looked utterly perfect.
"Pru, can you tell me what's wrong?"
"I think she's having a seizure," Mrs. Winslow said helpfully. "Honey, you look a little bit constipated. I suggest a good fart. That always works for me."