I’m desperately hoping they’ll drink quickly and leave. Take the hint. But Brandon’s never been particularly good at reading a room when he doesn’t want to, and he definitely doesn’t want to right now.
“So,” he says after taking his first sip, leaning back, “I guess I didn’t realize you were still working here at the Black Lantern.Stillhere after all these years.”
The way he emphasizes the word ‘still’ makes his meaning crystal clear—that I’m stuck, that I’m going nowhere with my life, that I’m a failure. Like tending bar at a place I love issomehow less valid or important than his corporate construction job with its long hours and its empty promises of advancement.
“Yep, still here.” I grab a glass and start polishing it even though it’s already clean, focusing intently on making it shine rather than on the overwhelming urge to throw it directly at his smug face. “Steady job, good tips. All the boring adult stuff.”
I manage to keep my tone light and casual, like his opinion means absolutely nothing to me. Which it shouldn’t.
“Well, good for you then.” He takes another drink, and I can see him winding up for something worse, preparing his next attack. “I even heard through the grapevine that you’re still doing that music thing of yours. Posting videos online and whatnot.”
That music thing.Like I’m a child with a toy piano instead of an adult working seriously toward an actual career.
“That’s really… sweet,” he continues, and the condescension is dripping from absolutely every word like poison. “Still chasing that dream of yours. Not super realistic at this point in your life, but I do admire the persistence. The refusal to give up despite reality.”
What. The. F.
This is classic Brandon, absolutely classic. I spent literal years of my life trying to decipher these kind of mixed messages, constantly wondering if I was crazy for hearing the insult lurking beneath every compliment.
Kelly swirls her wine glass slowly, studying the way the liquid moves like it’s the most fascinating thing she’s ever witnessed.
“Speaking of life updates,” Brandon says, clearly enjoying himself now, “might as well address the elephant in the room here. Kelly and I are together now. Official.”
Like I haven’t seen their matching pictures on Instagram. Like I don’t know they went to Cabo together last Christmasand posted about it extensively. Like I care even remotely about either of them anymore.
“Yeah, I know. Saw it on social media a while back.” My customer service voice is failing me spectacularly right now.
Kelly’s face tightens noticeably. She takes a long, deliberate sip of wine, still carefully avoiding any eye contact with me whatsoever. If she sinks any lower in her seat, she’ll be physically under the bar. Good. Sheshouldfeel uncomfortable. We met in high school and she was one of my closest friends besides Maren, at least until she decided my husband was a better option than our friendship.
“Right, well.” Brandon shifts in his seat, putting his hand over Kelly’s. “I’m back in town for work now. Got a construction contract that’ll run through the summer. Kelly’s doing the remote work thing so she can be here with me. So we’ll definitely be around Dark River a lot. Probably be seeing each other fairly regularly.”
Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.Just what Dark River needs for the summer—Brandon’s massive ego taking up valuable oxygen for months.
“Can’t wait.” My voice is so dry it could literally dehydrate a cactus, possibly start a small desert.
Brandon either completely misses the sarcasm or deliberately chooses to ignore it. But Kelly catches it—she’s immediately back to memorizing every microscopic detail of her wine glass. She’s always been fluent in subtext and unspoken communication. It’s one of the reasons we were such close friends for so long.
Brandon leans forward, and I recognize that particular look immediately. That’s his checkmate expression. The one that says he’s been carefully saving his very best shot for last. He’s going for blood now. I can feel it coming. I brace myself for whatever’s about to hit.
“So what about you, Lark?” he asks, and his tone is so casual it’s obviously calculated. “Are you seeing anyone these days? Dating? Or are you still too focused on the whole…” he makes this dismissive gesture with his fingers, like he’s physically flicking away something completely insignificant, “aspiring musician thing to make time for a relationship?”
And there it is. There’s the knife. The implication that my stupid, unrealistic music dreams are why I’m alone, why I’m undateable. Not because I’m actually enjoying being single for the first time in my life. Not because I’ve spent almost two years painstakingly rebuilding the self-esteem he systematically dismantled brick by brick during our marriage.
But standing up to Brandon has always felt like trying to argue with quicksand—the more you struggle against it, the deeper you sink.
Fuck. Say something. Anything.Don’t let him win this. I’m not that woman anymore, not the one who would shrink herself down to nothing just to keep the peace.
“Actually, yes,” I hear myself say before my brain has even remotely signed off on this decision. “Iamseeing someone.”
The words are completely out of my mouth before I can stop them, before I can think. My brain catches up approximately half a second after my mouth makes this absolutely insane decision.What are you DOING? What the hell are you DOING?
Brandon’s beer pauses halfway to his mouth, frozen in surprise. Kelly looks up from her wine glass for the first time since she sat down, her eyebrows climbing toward her hairline.
“Really?” Brandon’s voice is pure skepticism, disbelief dripping from the single word. “Who?”
Panic mode fully activated. Complete system malfunction. ABORT MISSION IMMEDIATELY.
Shit. Who?Think, Lark.Make up a name. Any name. Literally any name.
