“No, you hate how much I’m right.”
I hate that she’s sort of right, actually.
Because the truth is—I don’t know what’s real anymore.
“Well, well.” James’s voice makes me jump. “Somegirltalk going on?”
Becky’s smile fades. “I should check the stock room.”
“Oh, it’s ok I checked that earlier—” But she’s already gone, leaving me with James and the sudden urge to be anywhere else.
“Sounds complicated,” he says, leaning against the bar. “Maybe you need a distraction. Dinner after this shift?”
I smile, even as my stomach twists. Between Mrs. Spencer’s offer and whatever’s happening with Alfie, another guy is the last thing I need. “Thanks James, that’s sweet, but I’m good.”
His smile doesn’t waver. “Come on, T. Get your mind off all this drama. I know this great little place downtown...”
“Really, I shouldn’t?—”
“I’ve got all night to convince you.” He winks. “And you look like you could use a break from whatever is going on.”
For a moment, I actually consider it. A normal date with a normal guy. No Spencer family drama, no pretending, no complicated feelings I’m not supposed to have. Just dinner with someone uncomplicated, someone available.
Then I remember Alfie’s laugh in the dark of his lab, how he traces constellations on my palm when he thinks I’m not paying attention. The way he remembers which fossils I like best, how I take my tea, when I need quiet. The way he sees me - not as something to fix or protect, but as someone to understand.
“I appreciate the offer,” I say finally, “but I can’t.”
“Because of him?” James’s smile turns sharp. “The richboy who keeps showing up? Trust me, I’ve seen how this ends.”
My stomach twists. “What do you mean?”
“These trust fund types - they always go back to their own kind.” His voice drips with false sympathy. “They might slum it withthe helpfor a while, maybe even convince themselves it’s real. But in the end?” He shrugs. “They marry the girl Mommy and Daddy picked out, and we become another story they tell at country club parties. Happens plenty of times with silly girls here, thinking he chose them.”
The words hit like a punch, too close to every fear that keeps me up at night. But hearing it from James - watching him try to use my insecurities against me - makes something harden in my chest.
“I need to check the ice well,” I say, instead of defending Alfie. “People will start coming in soon.”
I handover the wrong drink, and instead of my stomach dropping, I just laugh.
“Whoops, my bad!” I grab the correct one and slide it over. “You’d think I’d have this down by now.”
The guy shrugs, unfazed, and I realize—so am I. For the first time in forever, I don’t feel like I need to prove I belong here. I just…do.
The shift goes fast.One margarita please, no ice. One soda and lime, oh, and is that definitely sugar free soda? Yes, thanks sweetie. One Moscow mule, and do we have copper mugs? No? Oh god no, I’ll have a martini instead then.
It’s almost closing when Alfie appears in his usual spotat the end of the bar. Still wearing his lab clothes, hair slightly messy and stuck up in strange angles in several places.
“The usual?” I ask, already reaching for water with lime.
“Long shift?” He notices something in my expression.
“Just busy.” I start my closing routine - a dance I’ve perfected over the past few weeks. He’ll sit there with his water, sometimes telling me about his research, sometimes just watching while I ramble about my shift. It’s become so natural that I try not to think about what it means.
“You missed Gran asking about you at dinner.”
“Yeah? How is she?”
“Still terrorizing Mother with inappropriate stories about Grandpa.”
