Devils Don't Fly Read online

  “You’ll be fine, sugar. I’ll be your knight in shining armor if anyone tries to bother you.”

  “I bet you would love that.”

  My door opens and a valet guy helps me out of the car. Oliver hands over his key to another man before walking around the car to place a warm hand on my lower back. He leans closer to my ear. “You look stunning, by the way.”

  Heat spreads through my cheeks at the same time a spark rekindles in the pit of my stomach.

  “Thanks. So do you.”

  Oliver leans back and smiles from ear to ear. “You think I look stunning?”

  “Ugh. Shut up. Shall we go in already?”

  “Of course, sugar.”

  After we’re greeted by the hostess, she leads us to our table, which I note is one of the best in the restaurant. I’m conscious of all the eyes on us, and it’s a great effort not to squirm under the scrutinizing gazes. I feel much better once we’re seated.

  Our waiter comes by and introduces himself. Oliver asks if I want to drink something. It’s a tempting offer—it would definitely help with my nerves—but I still have that sloppy drunk story hanging over my head, so I just order water.

  I pretend to be distracted with the menu, not knowing what to say to my husband. I feel his scorching gaze on my face, though, so after a minute of trying my best to ignore him, I finally shut the menu and lock eyes with him. “What?”

  “Nothing. Just admiring your new haircut. It looks so badass.”

  My cheeks burst into flames. It seems I can’t take a compliment anymore, especially one coming from him.

  “Eduardo did a good job.”

  Oliver nods with a smile before looking at the menu. “What are you in the mood for?”

  “I honestly don’t know. Probably something light. I’m not that hungry.”

  “The salmon is really good here.”

  I follow Oliver’s suggestion and order the salmon. Once the waiter is gone, I lean forward and narrow my eyes at Oliver. “All right, husband of mine. Out with it. Tell me that sloppy drunk story. I still think you’re lying.”

  Oliver leans back and grins at me. “I’m not sure you’re ready for it.”

  “Try me.”

  “Okay. It happened at the farewell party the Goulas threw for you and Remi. You know you used to work there, right?”

  “Yes, Remi filled me in.”

  “Apparently, you can’t handle your Greek wine.”

  “What did I do?”

  “Well, you could say we were on a break at the time. I came by the restaurant to talk business with you and you pretty much sexually assaulted me.”

  “I did what?”

  “You were all over me, sugar, like a hobo on a hotdog.”

  “Shut up!”

  Oliver bursts into laughter, and it’s the most glorious sound ever. I get caught up in the giggles as well.

  “I swear I’m not lying.”

  “And what happened?”

  “What do you think? Nothing, of course. I may be a rascal, but I don’t take advantage of intoxicated girls.”

  I freeze when he says ‘girls’, a spike of jealousy surging through my veins. “You were quite the player, weren’t you?”

  Oliver’s gaze narrows and his expression loses some of its levity. “Yes, but all the other women ceased to exist to me when we got together. You’re the only one I want, sugar.”

  “The one I need, oh yes indeed,” I sing, and the smile returns to Oliver’s face.

  I’m so captivated by him that I don’t notice we have company until a woman’s voice interrupts our moment. Looking up, I find a bimbo in a tight dress staring at my husband as if she wants to eat him for dinner.

  “Oh my gosh, it is you. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

  “Uh, hi?” he says, a bit too friendly for my taste. Why isn’t he glowering at the blow-up doll who had the audacity to interrupt us?

  “Would you mind signing an autograph for me?”

  “Sure, luv. Do you have a pen?”

  “Yes,” the woman says with too much excitement, completely ignoring the death glare I’m aiming her way. She gives the pen to Oliver and leans forward, shoving her fake boobs practically in his face. “I don’t have a piece of paper. Do you mind signing it here?” She points at her cleavage.

  I can’t control my tongue any longer. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

  My outburst makes her jump back, as if she’s noticing me for the first time. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

  I curl my good hand around the fork, ready to stab the bitch’s eyes out. “Get lost before I have you arrested for solicitation.”

  She puts a hand over her unnaturally enlarged chest as her face twists into an expression of outrage. “How dare you!”

  I spot the waiter not too far from our table, and somehow I’m able to flag him using my left arm. It seems the muscle only cooperates under stressful situations. The waiter comes to our table, and yet the bimbo still doesn’t take the hint.

  “Is there a problem, ma’am?”

  “Yes, this woman is bothering us. I thought this was a distinguished restaurant.”

  The waiter promptly takes action, and with as much discretion as he’s able, he guides the overenthusiastic fan far away from us. But it’s too late now. She’s managed to ruin the evening.

  I can barely hear anything over the sound of my pulse roaring in my ears. When my gaze connects with Oliver’s, I find him grinning.

  “You think that was funny?”

  “That woman shoving her tits in my face? No. But your reaction to it? Priceless.”

  I stand up, not feeling like staying in this stupid restaurant for another second. I sense all the stares aimed at our table, which only makes me feel worse.

  “Where are you going?” Oliver asks, catching on that I’m not in the mood for jokes.

  “I’m leaving.”

  I pray that I won’t trip as I walk out of the restaurant with all the dignity I can muster. I don’t look back to see if Oliver’s following me. I honestly don’t care.

  Once outside, I ask one of the valet guys to call a taxi for me. Oliver appears by my side and says it won’t be necessary. He gives the guy his ticket and together we wait in silence for his car.

  “Sugar—”

  “Don’t.”

  He swallows whatever he wanted to say. He also doesn’t try to speak to me again during the drive back home. I stare out the window the whole time, drowning in the anger that won’t go away.

  Okay, maybe I’m overreacting. Oliver didn’t do anything wrong besides feeling amused at my expense.

  When he parks in the garage, I’m the first to get out, stomping all the way to the stairs. I don’t wait for him, confident that I can make the trek up unassisted. I feel his presence looming close behind me, though, and thank fuck I don’t fall flat on my face.

  “Saylor, come on. Are you going to give me the silent treatment now? I wasn’t going to sign that woman’s breasts.”

  “But you still looked.”

  “They were right in my face!” I hear laughter in his voice, so I spin around to glare at him.

  “Don’t lie to me and say you weren’t enjoying the attention.”

  “I couldn’t give a fuck about her. What I did enjoy was your jealous reaction.”

  My spine goes taut. “I’m not jealous.”

  “Are you sure? It’s okay to be.”

  “Ugh! Stop being so cocky.”

  He takes a step closer, grin growing wider. “Why? You love when I’m cocky.”

  Danger. Danger. Abort. It’s time for you to go, Saylor.

  I take a couple of steps back, the anger quickly turning into something that feels a lot like desire.

  “I can’t remember loving anything. Good night, Oliver.”

  I spin on my heels so fast, my skirt gets tangled with my legs and I almost eat the floor, managing to catch my balance at the last minute.

  “Whoa, are
you okay there?”

  I don’t answer, striding down the corridor without a glance back.

  Twelve

  Oliver

  Saylor didn’t speak to me the entire weekend. She locked herself in the studio with the girls, and I decided to make myself scarce to avoid more conflict. Despite her overreaction to the incident on Friday, I can’t say I’m not happy about it. She got jealous, which gives me hope.

  I will get my wife back.

  She didn’t say goodbye to me before she left to her therapy session, and I decide enough is enough. She’s had plenty of time to get over whatever’s eating her arse. It’s not only jealousy that’s making her act in this erratic manner—one time she seems happy and relaxed, the next she wants to bite my head off.

  I take care of my to-do lists in the morning and head out, planning to surprise Saylor at the hospital. Once there, I buy the biggest bouquet of flower the hospital’s shop has, which works bloody fantastic as a shield. I’m not in the mood to be recognized right now.

  After getting directions to the physical therapy room, I find the door open. From the hallway, I can hear animated voices, and I recognize Saylor’s laughter right away. Excellent. She’s in a good mood. Let’s see if my presence here will make it turn sour. I step into the room and the first person I see is that wanker Derek, sitting all smug in a chair, watching Saylor do her exercises.

  What the actual fuck.

  I lower the bouquet and glare at the doucheface. With a jolt, he jumps from his seat and has the gall to approach me with an outstretched hand.

  “Hey, Oliver. How’s it going?”

  I drop my gaze to his hand, then stare at him again with murder in my eyes. The smile on his face wilts at the same time he drops his offending appendage.

  “Good to see you, Oliver,” Cheryl says, but I’m too lost in my anger to acknowledge her.

  Derek turns to Saylor. “I’d better go. Good luck with practice, Blue.”

  I make a guttural sound in the back of my throat, which makes it clear I’m two seconds away from smashing his Ken doll’s face in. Without another word, he walks around me and leaves. Now I aim my annoyance at Saylor, who’s staring at daggers at me. Why am I not surprised?

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask the same question about that wanker. I thought you didn’t want an audience.”

  “Derek just dropped by to say hello. It’s not like he can come visit me at the house.”

  “You got that straight. I don’t want that preppy doctor anywhere near our place.”

  Saylor stalks in my direction, stopping in front of me to poke my chest. “Get it into your thick head, Oliver. Derek is a friend. Why do you hate him so much?”

  “Why? Have you forgotten what he did right before Bas and Liv’s wedding?” The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize my mistake.

  “Yes, I did forget!” Saylor steps back.

  “Guys, please calm down.” Cheryl stands between us.

  Saylor’s reaction makes the anger inside my chest deflate like a balloon. What the hell am I doing?

  “I’m sorry. Of course you can’t know. That guy rubs me the wrong way for more than one reason.”

  “You need to get over it because Derek isn’t going anywhere.” The glint of defiance in her eyes tells me she’s dead serious about it.

  “Here, I brought this for you.” I drop the flowers on the seat Derek was occupying a minute before. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

  “I’m not going home with you.”

  Clenching my jaw, I keep from saying something idiotic like ‘Yes, you will.’ Enough with the caveman attitude.

  “All right, luv. I’ll see you at home.”

  SAYLOR

  I’m still riding the anger wave when Oliver walks out of the room. But once he’s gone, I want to collapse to the floor and cry like a baby. It didn’t escape my notice that he called me ‘luv’ instead of ‘sugar.’ Somehow, I know it’s a terrible sign.

  “Those are beautiful flowers.”

  Through tear-filled eyes, I stare at the bouquet, guilt sneaking into my already bruised heart. He must have come here to apologize for last night. I shouldn’t have lashed out at him. I’m such a hypocrite. Didn’t I get mad jealous not twenty-fours ago for something Oliver didn’t do?

  “Ugh. I’m a fucking cow.”

  “Hey, don’t beat yourself up for it. Oliver did overreact about Derek’s presence. What’s his beef against him anyway?”

  “Derek used to date my best friend, Liv, who is now married to Oliver’s best friend, Bas. There’s more to it but it’s a long story. I need to go after Oliver.”

  I pick up the flowers and practically run out of the physical therapy room. It’s not until I’m already at the hospital’s main lobby that I realize I forgot my purse. Cursing loudly, I spin on my heels to find Cheryl running in my direction.

  “Forgot something?”

  “You’re a lifesaver.”

  “Is he gone?”

  I turn toward the sliding doors. “Probably. I hope he went home.”

  “Why don’t you call him?”

  Shaking my head, I pull my cell phone out to call an Uber instead. “No. I need to speak to him in person.”

  A message pops on my screen. I just missed a call from Emma. A second later, I receive a text from her. Do you want to meet up for lunch?

  I haven’t seen Emma since she came to visit while I was still recovering. I’m tempted to blow her off, but on the other hand, maybe going out with her is exactly what I need.

  I text her back, saying I’m still at the hospital. A second later, she offers to pick me up.

  “Are you going to be all right? I have another appointment in five minutes.”

  “I’m good, Cheryl. A friend is picking me up. Thanks for bringing me my purse.”

  “No problem. And Saylor?”

  “Yes?”

  “Go easy on that boy, will you? He’s clearly madly in love with you, but love doesn’t thrive if it isn’t nurtured.”

  Her wise words make my stomach clench. She’s one hundred percent right. Memory loss or not, I’ve been acting like a total bitch to Oliver and he’s been taking it without complaint.

  While I wait, I scroll through the pictures on my phone, something I haven’t allowed myself to do until now. There are way too many pictures of us that are painful to see. We were so in love. How do I get that back?

  Can I get it back?

  The picture that really puts my heart in overdrive is the close-up of our hands, showing off our wedding bands. A lonely tear escapes my eye, but before it rolls down my cheek completely, I wipe it off. Enough with the trip down memory lane. I have to accept I may never recover my memories. It’s time to make new ones. If my reaction yesterday was any indication, I want Oliver in my life.

  I send him a quick text message. I’m sorry.

  A minute later, he replies. No worries, sugar. I’ll see you at home.

  At least he didn’t call me ‘luv’ again.

  Thirteen

  Saylor

  “Why do you always like to come here when you’re in town?” I slide into the booth and Emma does the same across from me.

  “Uh, because they have amazing burgers?”

  I watch her through slits. “Somehow I don’t believe that.”

  Emma rolls her eyes. “Fine. I was hoping Rori would be here today. He’s so dreamy.”

  “Aha! I knew it. But wait. When did you meet Rori?”

  “We came here one night, after Liv’s wedding dress fitting.” Emma stops abruptly and her face changes. “Ah shit. Sorry, Blue. It’s so easy to forget that you don’t remember the past year.”

  “It’s okay.” I shrug. “It’s better than people walking on eggshells around me. Please tell me you didn’t sleep with Rori.”

  Emma hunches her shoulders forward and lets out a loud sigh. “Sadly, no. You didn’t even let me say hello to him properly.”

  “
Good. I like coming here. I don’t want it to be weird.”

  I’m surprised when Emma doesn’t fight me on it. Instead, she seems distracted as she looks around the semi-empty pub.

  I reach out and touch her hand. “Hey, are you okay?”

  The weird glint in her eyes vanishes, replaced by her usual cheerful one. “Yes. Everything’s great. I’m finally moving back to Cali.”

  “That’s amazing. But what about your job?”

  “Well, I still need to give notice, but it’s not like they can’t live without me.”

  “It will be great to have you back.”

  “Yeah, it’ll be nice to have my friends near me again. Plus, Dad needs company. You know he got divorced again, right?”

  “No, I didn’t know that. How long did that one last?”

  “Not even a year.”

  I look down, not wanting to think that perhaps I’ll be divorcing in less than a year.

  “What’s up, Blue? Besides the whole gap in your memories. Is everything good at La Maison Best?”

  “Maison Best?” I raise an eyebrow at her.

  “It suits it. Better than calling it Renegades HQ.”

  Toying with the condiments on the table so I don’t have to look in Emma’s eyes, I say, “Things are strained at best. Sometimes it feels like we have this great bond, Oliver and me. Things are so easy. But then he does or say something that reminds me that I don’t actually remember him and I crumble like a house of cards. I feel like I’m walking with a constant dark cloud over my head.”

  “Would it be so bad if you didn’t remember the past year? Couldn’t you make new memories? You can’t possibly say you don’t get hot and bothered around your husband. That man is yummy.”

  I know Emma is only joking, but a spike a jealousy still surges through my veins. I clamp it down.

  “That’s the problem. I constantly have to watch myself. Every time he’s near me….” I pause to lick my lips and close my eyes. “Let’s just say I have to take a cold shower afterward. I’ve never been so horny.”