I buy her a drink. We talk like old friends—careers, cities, life paths that forked and never crossed again.
And for a moment, everything feels… easy.
Then it happens.
That prickle.
That unmistakable awareness between my shoulder blades.
I turn.
And there, just inside the bar, is Chloe.
Sage’s friend.
Watching me.
Watchingus.
Something heavy drops into the pit of my stomach.
Because I know, with sudden, brutal clarity?—
I am absolutely fucked.
I finish my drink with Erin and pull her into one last hug.
“I’m really happy for you,” I tell her, and I mean it. No bitterness. No ghosts. Just gratitude for what we were and relief for what we’re not.
She squeezes me once more. “You deserve something good too, Ethan.”
I watch her disappear back into the crowd—laughing, crown crooked, surrounded by women who adore her—and then I start scanning the bar.
It doesn’t take long.
Chloe’s near the side wall, drink in hand, posture stiff like she’s been bracing for something. When she sees me coming, her eyes flick up—nervous. Measuring.
She lifts her glass slightly. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I say. “You okay?”
She shrugs. “Who was that?”
I don’t dodge it. Don’t soften it.
“My old college girlfriend,” I say. “Bachelorette party. I wished her well. That’s it.”
Chloe takes a slow sip, eyes never leaving my face.
“Can I buy you one?” I offer, already knowing the answer.
“No,” she says. “I’m heading out.”
“Okay.”
She pauses, then gives me a look I don’t like. Not angry. Not accusing.
Concerned.
