Vain - Part Two (The Vain Series Book 2) by Deborah Bladon Read Free Book Online Page A

uncomfortable and would disappoint me even more.
     
    ***
     
    "It's a Brighton Beck original," Sadie screams as I pull on the edge of the patterned wrapping paper.
    "God, no," I whisper under my breath. Please tell me that I misheard that. I rip the rest of the paper free and mutter a curse to myself. It's indeed a Brighton Beck original watercolor.
    What. The. Fuck.
    "Do you like it?" Sadie's arms are wrapped around my neck in what feels like a chokehold. The fact that I feel as though I can't breathe likely has very little to do with the fact that she's hugging me and more to do with the reminder of the man I wasted a semester in Paris on. I get it fate. This is what a cruel twist feels like.
    "It's…" No. Just no. Please someone knock me unconscious and make this nightmare end. That is not Brighton walking through the doors of the restaurant. Where is the happy part of the birthday? So far, it's been shit. With a classroom of unruly children to manage on my own because Natalie had cramps, Noah's very brief text telling me to have a happy day and now Brighton's presence at my party, I may just give up birthdays all together for the remainder of my sad excuse for an existence.
    "Is that Beck? Your Beck?" Kayla whispers into my ear. "Alexa? You were fucking Brighton Beck?"
    "Don't remind me," I scowl. "Don't tell, Sadie. She worships the bastard."
    Kayla gives me a weak hug from behind as Sadie races over to greet Brighton. His eyes drop briefly to her face before they settle back on me. My mind is telling me to grab my bag and run for the door, but I can't do that to Sadie. I need to swallow my pride, hide behind a mask of fake obliviousness and act like I actually don't know him.
    "This is my friend, Alexa." Sadie holds out her hand to grab mine. "She's a big fan of yours."
    Shut up, Sadie. Shut the hell up. I am not a fan of this man. I can't stand the sight of this man. "Hi," I manage in a weak voice.
    "Happy Birthday, Alexa." He reaches to take my hand from Sadie's and pulls in to his mouth. His lips skirt over my palm before he gives it a tight squeeze. "You're lovely."
    I can actually hear Sadie's heavy sigh at the words. She's never been quiet about her love for Brighton Beck and the fact that she has one of his paintings hanging in the bedroom of her apartment is reason enough for me to understand her deep fascination with him, but this, this is too much.
    "You didn't have to come all the way to Boston for this," I say the words sweetly although their meaning contains a sharp bite. "I wish you wouldn’t have come."
    "Alexa," Sadie snaps. "Brighton took time out of his very busy schedule to come here for this. Don’t be rude."
    "I doubt that your friend is being intentionally rude, Sadie." Brighton flashes his signature dimpled grin. "She's just overwhelmed by my presence."
    Seriously? Did he actually just say that I was overwhelmed by his presence? "It's not that," I intervene. "I just know that you have a girlfriend who needs your attention," I purr through clenched teeth. "It's everywhere in the papers. What is her name? Liz?"
    "I heard about that," Sadie jumps in before Brighton can respond. "She was hurt very badly, wasn't she? We talked about it in class."
    "In class?" His gaze narrows. "What do you mean?"
    "Medical school," she says proudly. "We were talking about some of her injuries. The ones that the news was reporting on."
    He nods briefly and his neck twitches. "I'd like a moment alone with your friend to explain the delicate subtleties of the painting you purchased for her."
    "Of course." Sadie smiles as she falls for his bullshit, hook, line and sinker.  "I'll be right over there if you need anything."
    I lean back on my heel wanting to widen the distance between Brighton and I. "Why did you come? Why?"
    "You've been ignoring me since I saw you in New York." He nods an acknowledgement to a couple standing several feet away from us. "We need to talk about things."
    "There's nothing left to talk