Good Girl Complex: An Avalon Bay Novel

I lived my whole life without Cooper Hartley. Then, six months together and I’ve forgotten what it was not to know him. Six months, and only minutes to shred it to hell.

One overheard conversation.

A single devastating admission.

Quick as blowing out a match, my heart went numb.

After leaving Cooper’s house in a despondent haze, I sat in the back of a cab with Daisy and paid the guy to drive through town for nearly two hours. At some point, the cab dropped me off at Tally Hall. I showed up at Bonnie’s door with my bag in one hand and Daisy’s leash in the other, and with a sympathetic pout, she welcomed us home. Lucky for me, her new roommate sleeps out most nights. Less lucky, the moment people started getting up for class and trudging through the halls in the morning, Daisy began barking at the unfamiliar foot traffic. In an instant, the resident advisor was on us, demanding that we vacate.

For Bonnie’s sake, I told him we’d only popped in for a few minutes to say hello, though I’m not sure he bought it. By the afternoon, Daisy and I were in the backseat of another cab, searching for a plan B. Turns out there isn’t a hotel in the Bay that allows pets. Something about a dog show years back that went horribly awry.

So that’s how I find myself at Steph and Alana’s house. Daisy, the little traitor, hops right onto the couch and into Steph’s lap. I’m a bit more reluctant as I sit down next to Steph, while Alana pleads their case. They’d sent a dozen or so text messages after I’d stormed out of the party. It wasn’t so much the content but the persistence that convinced me of their sincerity.

“In our defense,” Alana says, standing with her arms crossed, “we didn’t know you’d end up being cool.”

I have to hand it to her, she’s unapologetically herself. Even in admitting that she had no small part in crafting the revenge plot, she doesn’t have it in her to mince words.

“For real, though,” she continues. “By the time Cooper told us you two were really a thing, it seemed meaner to tell you the truth.”

“No,” I say simply. “It was meaner to lie.”

Because while the truth hurts you, the lie degrades you. When I realized Preston had slept around on me, I understood what it was to be That Girl. For years, our friends had smiled in my face, knowing all along I was his patsy, while I remained oblivious to his “extracurriculars”—his parade of Marilyns. It never occurred to me that Cooper would turn around and lie to me as well. Or that, yet again, the people I called friends would play accomplices to my ignorance. Some lessons we have to learn twice.

Nevertheless, I’m not entirely without mercy. The mathematics of loyalty are tricky, after all. They were Cooper’s friends first. I can’t not factor that into the equation. It would be well within my rights to hate them both for their part in this charade, but I also see where they got caught in the middle. They should have told me the truth, yes. It was Cooper, though, who swore them to secrecy. It was his ass they were covering.

If anyone deserves the brunt of the blame, it’s him.

“We feel awful about it,” Steph says. “It was a crappy thing to do to someone.”

“Yep,” I agree.

“We’re sorry, Mac. I’m sorry.” Tentative, she reaches over to squeeze my arm. “And if you need a place to crash, you’re welcome to stay in our spare room, okay? Not just because we owe you, but because you really are cool, and I, we”—she glances at Alana—“consider you a good friend.”

Despite the awkward implications, staying here is the most attractive option until I find a more permanent solution. Besides, Daisy already seems quite at home.

“And we won’t discuss Cooper unless you want to,” Alana promises. “Although for what it’s worth, he’s pretty torn up about everything. Evan says he sat on the beach all night in the cold, just staring at the bay.”

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?” I ask with a raised brow.

Steph laughs awkwardly. “Well, no, and we’re not saying you don’t deserve to be pissed. I’d have complete sympathy if you wanted to torch his truck.”

“The whole revenge plan was juvenile bullshit,” adds Alana. “But he wasn’t faking liking you. We told him he wasn’t allowed to pretend to fall for you, so that part was completely real.”

“And he is sorry,” Steph says. “He knows he messed up.”

I wait a few seconds, but it seems they’ve wrapped up their pitch. Good. Now we can set some boundaries.

“I get that you two are stuck in the middle of this and that sucks,” I tell the girls. “So how about we set a house rule: I won’t get weird every time someone mentions his name or bitch about him in front of you, and you guys agree not to campaign for him. Deal?”

Steph gives me a sad smile. “Deal.”

That night, I allow myself to cry alone in the dark. To feel the pain and anger. Let it rip me open. And then I put it away, bury it deep. I wake up in the morning and I remind myself that there’s a lot more to my life than Cooper Hartley. For the last year, I’ve complained about all the things keeping me from concentrating on my business. Well, there’s nothing stopping me now. I’ve got time in the day and more than enough work between my websites and the hotel to fill it. Time to wipe up my smudged mascara and be a bad bitch.

Fuck love. Build the empire.