Just a billionaire walking around the church lawn, picking up soiled napkins.
With me.
She’s sunshine and silk and a billion miles out of my league.
I don’t know why she stayed after the potluck or looked more comfortable picking up trash than at any other time during the night.
But I do know this: girls like her don’t stay.
Not with guys like me.
“Son, you’ve been rinsing that pint glass for two minutes. I think it’s good,” Dad says as he wheels past me.
I give myself a shake and set the glass down.
I’m not sure why I’m here tonight, considering I’m not on the clock anymore. But I got nowhere else to be, and rumor has it, someone shows up every night …
Dad has Lucy Jane’s latest single playing over the speakers, and it’s a nice addition to the usual soundtrack of laughter, clinking silverware, and low chatter.
And it’s just quiet enough that I can hear the bell over the front door when it dings.
My head whips around, expecting—hoping—to see Kayla.
And then my hope shrivels up and rots inside me.
Serena.
Serena with a glittering wedding ring, wearing a yellow sundress and white cowboy boots.
She lingers at the door, waiting for the low sunlight from outside to announce her like a spotlight.
I turn my head away, but I can feel the moment she locks onto me. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the head cheerleader stride she perfected in high school. Back before I knew she was playing Tucker Kent and me against each other. Before she had a baby with him.
And before she came crawling back to me, baby in tow.
Just thinking about that baby sends a stab of pain to my gut. ‘Course, she’s not a baby anymore. She’s starting kindergarten soon. Over a year’s gone by, and every time I see her, I wonder if I did the right thing ending things with Serena once and for all.
But when Serena sits at the bar, those doubts vanish.
“Hi, Sean-y.” She emphasizes each syllable, like she wants to make sure I don’t miss a beat.
I pop a cap off a bottle and send it down the bar to a customer. “Serena. It’s been a while.”
“It has,” she says, angling her left hand to make sure her diamond catches the bar lights. It’s a carat and a half—much bigger than what I could afford when we were together. “You look good. Happy. Are the big leagues treating you that well already? Or is there agirlbehind that smile?”
Once upon a time, these head games would have made me feel good. I would have misinterpreted her jealousy and insecurity for affection. Serena needs attention at all times. She wants to be picked by everyone … so she can choose who to shut down.
She must have seen me and Kayla yesterday. And I don’t care to disabuse her of whatever notion’s going on in her head.
“What can I do for you, Serena?
“I just wanted a beer. And a chat with my old fiancé.”
I try not to stiffen when she spits the word, mocking what I considered a sacred vow.
“You know, Dakota still asks after you. One of your games came on the TV, and she shouted for you.”
This is the first thing she’s said that cuts like a knife.
