“Please.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Does she know she’s not your girlfriend?”
“Of course.”
“So what was she doing here?”
Jack shrugged. “Boredom? Photo op? Her publicist called my publicist and asked if she could crash.”
“But what was all that at the bonfire?”
“Competition. And pathological insecurity.”
I shook my head. “How can a woman who is the prototype for physical human perfection be insecure?”
“That’s a really good question.”
“So. Just to sum up: You and Kennedy Monroe are not together?”
“We were never together.”
“Your matching-sweater People cover tells a different story.”
“That was all made up.”
It was so hard to comprehend. “But why?”
“To give people something to talk about.”
“But don’t you care that it wasn’t true?”
Jack leaned back. “I’d rather have people gossiping about fake things than real ones.”
I tried to take it all in. “So. One more time. Just to clarify: You never dated Kennedy Monroe?”
Jack gave a nod, like Affirmative. Then he said, “Never.”
My whole body melted with relief. Then I smacked him on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me that sooner? I’ve been thinking she was your girlfriend this whole time.”
Jack shrugged. “I’m not really supposed to talk about it.”
“But I specifically asked you about it back when we first met.”
“It was need-to-know information. And you didn’t need to know.” He added: “Back then.”
Fair enough.
“And what about you?” Jack asked next.
“What about me?”
“I heard Bobby went by your place the other night.”
“How did you even hear that?”
“You didn’t get back together or anything, did you?”
I looked at Jack’s impossibly handsome face, highlighted by the fire. Fine. Were we doing this? “Um. He dumped me on the night after my mother’s funeral, and then he slept with my best friend, and then he dumped her, too, so … no. We did not get back together.”
“Whoa,” Jack said.
“But that’s not the worst of it.”
“What’s the worst of it?”
“He said something really, really terrible to me. Something I’ll never forget.”
Jack leaned closer. “What did he say?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m terrified it might be true.”
“It’s definitely not true. Whatever it is. He’s dead wrong.”
“You don’t even know what he said.”
“That’s why you have to tell me.”
“I can’t!” I said, jumping to my feet and pacing around the fire pit.
Jack got up and paced with me. “Just tell me. I’m way too drunk to remember.”
I looked him over. I was good at judging these things. “You’re not even close,” I said.
But Jack was ready to make this happen.
He walked right up to face me and stood inches away. “You haven’t asked me for your safety pin back yet.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I got distracted by your mean-ass girlfriend.”
Jack lifted his hands to his leather necklace, unfastened the clasp, and lifted it off his neck, my safety pin still attached. “I never could find the necklace part,” Jack said, “so take the necklace, too.”
“That’s Drew’s necklace.”
“He wouldn’t mind.”
Jack was giving me Drew’s necklace? Something about that seemed like a very big deal.
Jack held the necklace and the pin out, like I was supposed to take them.
But as I reached out, Jack just gave me a mischievous smile, closed them both in his hand, and, instead, lifted his fist high above our heads.
My mouth fell open at the unfairness of it all.
“Give it!” I said, jumping for his hand.
“Maybe it’s a finders-keepers situation.”
“This is not cool.” I jumped some more.
“You’re hilarious. You’re like a Chihuahua.”
“Give it back!” I said, still jumping, using his shoulder for a boost.
“On one condition,” Jack said.
And when I stopped to find out what that was, he said, “Tell me what Bobby said to you.”