“That was a weightedah.”
My heart seems to pause while she gathers her words.
“It’s unrequited, then.”
My heart starts again, settling into rhythm. “Not at the time. At the time it wasn’t—” Amara is giving me a knowing smirk. “Yeah. Guess it is.” I take another sip of water. “It’ll go away, right?”
Her face falls. “You can’t be with her?”
I think back to the conversation we had that day in the grass. Katie’s irritation at me for proposing, her insistence that I deserved love and she did too. And pulsing behind all of that, like the pump of a dark heart, the implication, the absolute fucking certainty, that I wasn’t someone she could find that with.
“Not a chance.”
Amara’s dark eyes are sad when I look back at her.
My lips twist. “It’s all good.”
“You want a drink? A real one. On the house. I even have some Prince whiskey.”
My eyes flare, and she chuckles.
“Secret’s safe with me, kid, don’t worry. I won’t send the paparazzi your way.”
“I’m okay. I’m driving her home later.”
“Christ,” she mutters. “You might be too dumb to help.”
I smile faintly. “I’ll be okay. I think if I’m very, very careful, things will go back to the way they were.”
“That’s what you want?”
“Of course that’s what I want. I don’t want to feel like I’m being stabbed in the chest every time I look at her.” I hunch forward on the bar and avoid the stare of a man two seats down. “You don’t know me, but historically, I’ve excelled at managing my emotions.”
She snorts and swipes a rag up from the edge of the bar. “You’re holding your heart in your hands like it’s a bomb, hoping it won’t go off, if only you tread carefully enough.”
I startle, blood rushing in my ears.
“In my experience, it always does.” She shrugs. “But maybe you’re different, Tristan Prince.”
“I’m very special.” I smirk.
“I bet that line works a lot,” she says, grinning.
We laugh, and I watch Katie, and I promise myself that I won’t let this get any worse. Katie is my friend. I’d rather die than hurt her. And if I know one thing from experience, it’s that when I care deeply about something, I always find a way to ruin it.
32
TRISTAN
“Right. Turn right.”
I grip Katie’s calves with my hands. “Simmer down, you fucking menace. I won’t make it down the steps to the dock. The lawn will do.”
I turn right off the path for the catering building. Katie rests her chin on my shoulder.
“Thanks for carrying me,” she muses. Her breath ruffles my hair, as warm as the wind dancing over the property and rustling the trees.
It’s a perfect June night. The humidity has broken, but it’s still seventy degrees. In an hour we’ll need a sweatshirt, but right now, Crownhaven feels nearly enchanted.
