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“You got it bad too?” someone asked from my side.
Shocked, I blinked. “Wilder? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Judging by the look on your face, same thing as you.”
My brow quirked as Leo set a shot on the bar. I took it to the dome and sat next to Wilder.
He looked miserable, hunched over a glass of scotch, eyes tired.
I jerked my chin at Leo for another drink. “You all right?”
“Nope. You?”
“Nope.”
“Your duchess?”
“Who else? Thanks, Leo” I kicked back another shot and sucked my teeth. “Howabout a scotch?”
“You’ve got it,” Leo answered.
I sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“I got time,” Wilder said.
I scratched at my chin. “Well, I fucked up and fell for her.”
“That’s your long story?”
I shrugged. “I wasn’t supposed to. In fact, I wasn’t even sure I had a shot at a hookup. But then...” Another sigh.
And then I launched into the whole thing. It took me three fingers of scotch to explain how we were flirting, then playing chicken, then fake dating, then real dating, but everyone who mattered thought we were fake dating. How we were fucking with each other, then fucking each other, and then falling for each other. I told him about Hank and his bullshit, her mom and her audacity, Cass warning Jessa off me so hard, she’d nearly bolted. How Jessa didn’t listen, because she never listened when it really mattered, and I loved that about her. I explained how Henry had somehow become the lynchpin in our relationship, and how she had to go on some stupid fucking date with him tonight so we wouldn’t blow our cover. And how he’d kissed her. In front of me.
Twice.
Mostly, though, I talked about how I didn’t want her to go.
Wilder spun his glass around slowly on the bar for a minute when I quit talking. George Strait crossed his heart and made promises to the girl he loved over the speakers, and I listened to the lyrics with my nose stinging.
“You’re an idiot,” he said.
“I know it.”
“You shoulda agreed to tell Cass when Jessa wanted to.”
“Yup.”
“But you didn’t want Cass to know, did you? That’d make it real.”
I swallowed hard. What I didn’t do was answer.
“Last time you had feelings, you got your heart curb stomped, so you figured it was easier to keep Jessa on the low than admit to yourself you were afraid.”
“We’ve already agreed I’m an idiot. No need to prove any points.”
“I mean, I get it. She’s leaving. I’d be getting hammered too.”
“She hasn’t said she’s leaving.”
