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I struck first. “I hate you.”
His smile turned even shittier.
“Don’t you—” I tried to warn, but he cut me off as he loudly snapped back, “Let the hate flow through you,” in an imitation of Emperor Palpatine’s voice.
I covered my face with both hands and then mumbled through them, “I think the boat called. It wants you back.”
“Who doesn’t?” He smirked, making light of his current situation.
I lowered my hands and considered him for a moment before asking, “Do you want to talk about it more? I feel like we spent most of the time dealing with my stuff.”
“Your ‘stuff’”–he tried to air quote, but only one of his hands was succeeding as the other was holding a fork—"took priority and rightfully so, Cher. That voicemail you left me about gave me a heart attack, especially since I got it days after the fact. But those texts you sent afterwards?” He pinned me with a look. “You know, the ones where you tried to backtrack and pretend your feelings are of no consequence to anyone at all? Well. Those were….” He licked his lips. “Those were what actually broke my heart.”
“I’m sor?—”
He cut me off. “No. Don’t.”
I pressed my lips together and nodded as Cody stuffed a bite of Caesar salad into his mouth, the tension of the moment fizzling easily. We were both already wrung out, so there was no reason to get back into it all again now.
“I love Austin,” he said eventually.
I nodded. “I know.”
“I do not love who I am on that ship.”
That’d been one of the biggest “Cody things” we’d discussed—how he didn’t feel like himself in that environment and didn’t behave the same either.
“I would have, and I’m sure Austin did too.”
His brow furrowed as he took a huge sip of his Shirley Temple. Then he covered his mouth with a fist and let out a disgraceful burp in an obvious attempt to ward off the vulnerability of his next words.
“Is that enough, though? Loving him? Him loving me?”
Well.
I’d never been in love.
I knew that now.
But I could imagine it—more easily now than ever, so I went with the answer my gut provided, trying my best to not second-guess it. “Maybe. If you want it to be. But it doesn’t sound like that was the problem.”
He made a noise in the back of his throat, either unwilling or unable to rehash those thoughts and feelings right now.
And that was understandable.
“Well.” He slapped his fork down and threw his crumpled napkin on top of it. “I think our work here is done.”
I scooted down the booth to get up and go to the counter to pay the check, but Cody stopped me, looking mortally offended. Some Southern manners couldn’t be unlearned even if others never took.
In the end, he paid, and we made our exit.
We weren’t even halfway down the escalator to the casino floor when another familiar, unwanted presence came into view. I made a mental note that next time Cody and I needed a venue for a fight, we should go to Willows Casino instead.
I held my breath for the rest of our ride to the bottom, chatting with Cody and trying to keep his attention on me.
It mostly worked until we reached the bottom, where I made the mistake of trying to pull Cody’s arm to guide us on a less direct path through the casino floor. The one that wouldn’t have us crossing directly in front of AJ.
The person I’d spent my afternoon talking—raging—about the most while answering every one of Cody’s questions with naked, brutal honesty.
