My gaze drifts back to the closed door as I take a sip, only for the flavor to fall flat on my tongue.
Ferry gods, help me.I think my orderhaschanged.
I take another swallow, just to be sure.
Yep.I’d prefer anewdrink.
As a matter of fact, I’m afraid that I might actually love one.
My fingers tighten around the stem of my glass as I take another sip, forcing myself to think about what this actually means.
Ethan is leaving.He has a job and a life in Philadelphia.
What good would it do for either of us to cling on to a sinking ship?
Wouldn’t it be better to have a clean break?
The ice cubes bump my teeth as I drink a little more.
Is a clean break even possible?
Right now, nothing about Ethan going away feels clean.
Willow knocks my hip with hers.“You good?”In her hand is a glass of seltzer water with lime—her go-to whenever she’s the designated driver.Her drink of choice doesn’t really go along with her “birthday” ruse, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice.
“What sort of question is that?”Steve says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.“Of course she’s good.She’s with me.”
Am I good?
Not really.
But maybe I could be.
Don’t I owe it to myself to besureabout Ethan before I go running after him?Maybe it’s the proximity that makes us work.That’s what happens in romance novels, right?The couple is stuck together, so of course they’re going to catch feelings for each other.
Who’s to say that’s not what happened in our situation?
Maybe I’ll end up feeling the exact same way about Steve by the time the night is over.
Lola comes over to us, a tray tucked beneath her arm and a smirk curving her red lips.“Can I get you guys something to eat?”
“I’ll have another gin and tonic,” I hear myself say.
Steve also orders himself another drink, as well as some spinach and artichoke dip for us to share.He turns to Willow and me.“Come on, ladies, a table just opened up.”
Together, the three of us make our way to a high-top that sits half-inside, half-outside the bar.
In a couple of weeks, there will be live music pouring from the nearby stage on the lawn.Tonight, eighties rock blares through the speakers.David mustn’t be working; he despises eighties music.Calls it a “trash decade.”
Needless to say, Lola and everyone else with a modicum of taste disagree.
Steve pulls out a stool and gestures for me to sit.
That’s gentlemanly of him, isn’t it?So why isn’t my stomach fluttering?
I fix my smile and sink onto the chair with a murmur of thanks.Steve settles in across from me, grinning as if all is right in the world.Instead of joining us, Willow waves at someone from across the lawn and says she’ll be back in a minute.
Steve stretches a hand across the table, capturing mine.“I’m so glad you changed your mind about meeting me.”
