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She still won’t look at me. “Of course because this”—she mimes pressing an imaginary button on the bar—“doesn’t look nearly as cool.”
“I’m not surecoolis the word you’re looking for.”
Nora smiles and slowly turns her face in my direction again. It’slike a light has turned on behind her eyes. “You’re not mad? You’re joking with me?”
“Well, I would if your window was down, but…” I shrug and smile into my glass.
I notice the bartender headed our way again with Nora’s drink. Against my better judgment, I lean over and hook my hand under Nora’s stool, dragging her back to my side. Closer this time. The bartender sets her drink down and lingers a second, hoping to catch her eye (because I guess he feels like dying tonight). But Nora doesn’t see him. She’s staring at me.
We’re both confused as hell.
I don’t acknowledge how close I’ve pulled her. I don’t acknowledge how incredible her hair smells. Instead, I continue like nothing out of the ordinary is happening. “Are you going to be okay once the contract is dissolved?”
“Was Matthew Macfadyen the best Mr. Darcy to ever grace the screen?”
“What?”
She takes a sip of her drink and licks her lips. “The answer is yes to both. I’ll be fine.” Except her eyes dart away from me quickly, like she doesn’t want me to see the truth. She might not be okay. Her agency might think something was her fault.Dammit.
“I’ll call them and tell them everything. Make sure they know it’s nothing you did but because of my own issues.”
“That’s okay. I can handle them myself,” she says with her usual Nora steel, and then takes a long drink, nearly downing her whole gimlet. She hisses once she swallows.
“A little tart?” I ask with a grin.
She doesn’t answer. She swivels on her barstool and her knees push into the outside of my thigh. “So if I’m no longer your agent…tonight we’re just…?”
“Two people having drinks.”
“People,” she says with heavy inflection. “Right. Not friends. Because you hate me.”
“Again—hateis not the word for it.”
“Okay, well, whatever we are…” Her hand wraps around her glass and puts it to her mouth, tipping it back to drink the last swig of it. “Can we be it while drinking? Because I’ve had a long week and I think I’d like to get drunk safely. And you’re a big guy,” she says like maybe I didn’t already know this. “And a gentleman. I think even though you hate me you’ll keep me safe.”
“Once again…hateis not the word.”
She throws her hands up dramatically. “Loathe me, are annoyed by me, despise me, abhor me…”
Fucking love you.
“…Have a distaste for me, wish ill upon my soul!”
I raise my hand in the air to catch my least favorite bartender’s attention. Nora’s gaze slides up my arm and her eyes sparkle. “Ooh, what are you doing? Are you getting his attention? Should I sit in your lap while you do?”
My eyes cut slowly to her, and she smiles wickedly up at me. For some reason—thinking I dislike her is giving her a whole new freedom. Fine. Whatever it takes to get through this last night before we go our separate ways and I make myself get over her for good.
I order us both another round of drinks as well as shots, and a few minutes later, we’re raising our glasses in a toast.
“To the official end of us,” she says in her usual candidness, making me want to laugh even as my chest hurts at the thought of losing her.
“To the end of us.”
Our glasses clink together and then we both toss back our drinks.
I jerk awake from that same damn dream of Derek kissing the woman in the hallway. My eyes fly open to a sunlit room—adirect contrast of the oppressive hallway. I’m dragging in breaths like I just ran a mile, and my face is slick with that familiar cold sweat.Just a dream.I blink at the ceiling as a headache powerful as a bolt of lightning strikes through my brain.Oof must keep eyes closed.How much did I drink last night?
A lot.
