“You can head out,” I told Spence, attempting to spare him any more of the guys’ quips.
“You sure? The chairs are stacked?—”
“I’m positive. Go ahead. We’ll close it down.”
He didn’t need me to tell him again. As the guys said their goodbyes, I pulled out my phone. I’d texted Mae earlier, but she’d never responded.
“Still nothing?” Mason asked.
I looked up. All three of them stared back at me. Time for a drink. Taking out Cole’s secret stash, I poured myself a Scotch and raised it up, hoping to avoid the topic.
“To Cole, who’s like a rare book—hard to find, impossible to replace, but somehow always makes you feel like you should’ve read more.”
“That’s a simile, asshole.”
“No shit.”
“Welcome home,” Parker said as all four of us drank.
“Well?” Parker prompted.
“Nothing,” I confirmed, knowing I couldn’t avoid it. These guys, with the exception of Parker, who we met in college, had known me since we started school. There was no avoiding the fact that I’d had a crush on Mae since, well, always. When we made a pact in college never to marry—our bachelor pact as Cole, whose idea it was, called it—one of the rules was made specifically for me. Never date your neighbor. Although it had been a long time since we were actual neighbors, since my father’s business boomed and we moved to Mill Creek, one of those gated neighborhoods where the lawns practically mowed themselves and the mailboxes were all designer.
Mae and I stopped being next-door neighbors, but somehow, she never stopped feeling like home.
“That’s so strange,” Parker said. “Why would she walk in and then leave?”
“I thought you said she was coming back a few weeks ago?” Cole asked. Since he didn’t live in Cedar Falls, our Ivy League college professor gracing us for the weekend from Manhattan which he now called home, he was sometimes more out of the loop than the others.
“I thought so too. She was bringing her”—the word fiancé got stuck in my throat—“friendhome to meet the parents.”
Mason looked like he was about to bust my chops, but thankfully, refrained.
“And?” Cole prompted.
“She ghosted him,” Mason finished. So much for a reprieve.
“She didn’t ghost me,” I argued. “She just went dark for the past few weeks.”
“Went dark? Mae wasn’t in a black site on some covert mission.” Mason pushed his beer mug toward the edge of the bar.
“I should let you go dry,” I said, heading to refill it. “People get busy.”
Thankfully, Parker kept his mouth shut. He knew full well it had bothered me. Mae had never not responded to a text before. But letting Mason and Cole know that was like declaring open season on myself. Those two would never let me live it down.
“Something’s up,” I said, sure of it.
“If Mason refilled,” Parker said, “I will too. Figured you’d be kicking us out.” He motioned to where the two women had been sitting.
“Oh, yeah.” Mason took the drink I handed to him. “I forgot about those two. Which one did you pick?”
If they got wind that, after one look at Mae, neither of the women were remotely appealing anymore, I’d be crucified.
“The brunette,” I lied, having already tossed the napkin she gave me with her number. “But figured she could wait. Honored guest for the weekend and all.”
Cole made a face as the others ribbed him, thankfully moving on from Mae.
Why hadn’t she texted back? Either tonight or in the past few weeks? Why did she leave without saying hello? And where was the fiancé? I hadn’t seen any French-looking dude with her.
