"So you understand why I'm not looking for her."
Ramsey sets his beer down. "Cal, you are so far past looking it's not even funny. You damn near walked into a doorframe at my house last time."
"The doorframe was in a weird spot."
"That house is made to Rome perfection. You're just full of shit."
I keep my eyes on my beer.
"How long are you going to do this?" he asks.
"Do what?"
"Pretend you don't lose brain function every time she's within fifty feet of you."
"I have excellent brain function at all times, thank you."
"You stood in the bean aisle at the grocery store for ten minutes on Saturday." He raises an eyebrow. "You don't even like beans."
I stare at him. "How do you know about the bean aisle?"
"Poppy saw you. She said you were reading the back of a can of kidney beans like it was going to give you the answers to life." He grins. "She texted me about it. With a photo."
Mental note: never go to the grocery store again.
"Again, she's twenty-one," I repeat.
"I heard you the first time."
"And she's Rome's sister."
"Also heard that."
"So this isn't a conversation we need to be having."
Ramsey is a gloating bastard. "You're doomed."
Yeah. I suspected as much myself.
"I'm fine."
"You're doomed, and you're going to be a disaster about it, and I'm going to have to watch."
"Wow, thanks for the support."
"Anytime," he says cheerfully, raising his beer.
I don't clink it. Ramsey drinks anyway, looking way too comfortable for a man watching his best friend's life fall apart in slow motion.
"Just so we're clear," I say. "Nothing is happening."
"Sure."
"I mean it, Ramsey."
"I believe you."
His face says he doesn't. His posture says he doesn't. He's already pulling out his phone, probably to text Poppy that he doesn't.
