On a Wednesday (One Week #2) by Whitney G.

“It’ll have to be now.” He glared at me. “Unless you want me to make a scene.”

A part of me wanted to tell him to go back to wherever he came from, but another part of me was grateful to have a reason to get away from this cluster-fuck of an event.

“I’ll be right back.” I whispered to Alonna.

Kyle led the way, and I followed him to the other side of the roof, where there were only stacks of white-covered chairs and a table for two.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the playoffs right now?” I asked. “Like—”

“Do you love that guy?” He interrupted me.

“You mean, that guy I just agreed to marry?”

“Yes,” he said. “That guy.”

“Well, clearly, Kyle.”

“I could’ve sworn that you and I had a certain deal about our twenty-eighth birthdays.”

“We agreed that since they’re only four days apart, there’s never a reason for you to miss mine,” I said. “I don’t recall hearing from you last year.”

“You didn’t call for mine either,” he said. “You haven’t called and told me shit.”

“And whose fault is that?”


“I’m not sure how you found out about this, but …” I sucked in a breath as he closed the gap between us, forcing my heart into a rhythm it hadn’t played since college. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I beg to differ,” he said, pushing a few strands of hair away from my face. “You’re more beautiful now than you were in college.”

“Thanks. My fiancé seems to think the same thing.”

His jaw clenched at the words ‘fiancé,’ but he kept his eyes on mine. “I overheard him say that you’ve only been dating for six months. Is that true?”

I said nothing.

He didn’t deserve to know that Graham and I were close friends first, that we’d actually become friends after Kyle shattered me to pieces.

“Six months isn’t long enough to deserve a chance with someone like you,” he said. “I mean, even if we were still talking, I would never let you agree to marry a guy within that short of a timeframe.”

“Well, good thing that we’re not talking,” I said. “Graham Callahan is one of the top bachelors in this entire city and he’s a complete and utter gentleman.”

“I’m sure he is.” His forehead brushed against mine, and that mere touch was enough to set every nerve in my body on fire. “Don’t you remember what we had, though?”

My breathing slowed. “Kyle …”

“Does your fiancé know?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So, you don’t remember?”

“Whatever it was, it was years ago, Kyle. So, no, I don’t remember.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” His hand grazed my waist, and the scent of his cologne made me lean toward him.

“Stop.” I shook my head and stepped out of his way before I made a huge mistake. “I’m sorry that someone with a twisted sense of humor invited you to this party, Kyle. You’re not supposed to be here, and you know that.”

“I came because you commented on my Instagram post.”

“I commented on it along with twenty-thousand other people.”

“I couldn’t help but notice the ones that weren’t saying, ‘I hate you.’”

“Funny,” I said. “That’s what I meant to say.”

Completely unfazed by what I’d said, he stared at me as if no time had passed, as if the ugly words from our past had never ripped us apart. Looking torn between pinning me against the railing and kissing me to make up for lost time and storming away to never speak to me again, he stood still.

“I think you should leave now.” I managed. “I want to enjoy myself for the rest of this party—preferably with the people who are here for the occasion.”

“What occasion?” He glanced at my ring finger. “I don’t see anything worthy of celebrating.”

“Leave, Kyle.” I couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. “Please.”

“Is there a problem over here?” Graham stepped onto our side of the landing.

“No.” I stepped back. “Kyle was just dropping by to say hello. Now, he’s leaving.”