“We’re good,” he said, cutting in before she could speak.
My eyes dropped to where his hand held her. Tight. Possessive. Protective. I hated that I missed that feeling.
“Better than good, actually,” he went on, glancing down at me with a small lift of his brow.
“Lala and I are getting married in the spring.”
Lala’s lips parted, her teeth catching lightly on the bottom one as her gaze jumped between us. Her shoulders drew in just a little under his arm, her hands clasping together in front of her as she waited.
I held still, forced my expression into place. Making sure my eyes widening just enough. Smile stretching just right to convey that this didn't feel like he just stabbed me in the gut.
“Congratulations.”
The word came out smooth, and I was proud of myself. I didn't want him to see me being weak.
His gaze dragged over me after that, slow, assessing. Something in his expression shifted, subtle but there. Measuring. Comparing.
A smile cracked along his face as he straightened, his grip on her waist tightening as he looked past me.
“Well, we should get going,” he said.
Lala stumbled half a step as he pulled her with him through the crowd, then twisted back, lifting her hand in a small wave.
“It was nice seeing you, Olivia, really,” she called, her smile softer now. “Tell Alto and Tara I said hi.”
Then they were gone, swallowed back into the crowd, and I stood there a second longer than I should have.
“Wish you would’ve kicked him yourself, don’t you?”
Lark’s voice cut in, light and pleased as she slid another drink into my hand.
I didn’t answer. Just lifted the glass and drank. Fast.
“Yeah,” I muttered after taking a few big gulps, exhaling through my nose. “Kinda wish I had.”
My eyes drifted back to where they’d disappeared, remembering his hand on her waist. The way he held her. Looked at her like she was his everything. How he used to look atmebefore he found someone better.
I looked away.
“But she was with him,” I added, setting the glass down harder than necessary. “Didn’t feel like dealing with him throwing a fit after getting taken out by a girl twice.”
Laughing, loud and unfiltered, Lark clinked her glass against mine.
I tipped the rest of my drink back and downed it in one go, sliding the empty glass toward the bartender.
“Another.”
Lark leaned in slightly, her grin widening as her eyes caught the shift in my mood.
“Oh… we’re doing this tonight?” she asked, a spark of mischief lighting up her face.
I grabbed the fresh drink as it hit the counter, planning on slamming down enough of these to make the pain in my chest go away.
“Yeah,” I said, lifting it. “Now we are.”
9
OLIVIA
