Page 30 of Trust Fund Baby

“I should’ve asked to sit on the other side of the table.”

“You still can. I’m sure Hallie wouldn’t mind,” I quipped. “But I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

It was so easy to slip back into the way things used to be. To forget the history between us.

Roxie’s jaw flexed, sparks flying in her eyes again.

I braced for the snark. For her claws-out response that would cut just deep enough to make me bleed.

But she didn’t say a word.

Instead, she shifted in her seat, her foot disappearing from next to mine entirely as she squared her shoulders toward her friend and away from me.

Roxie didn’t speak to me again for the rest of dinner.

When we got back to the house after dinner, a jittery energy coursed through me. Everyone was tipsy. Laughing. Content.

Everyone except me.

I went straight to the liquor cabinet, my eyes darting over the bottles, searching for a drink that could numb the chaos in my mind. The cabinet was ridiculously full, with old labels and unusual blends. I opened the fridge next, just below the cabinet, deciding against hard liquor.

“Think I’m going to have a night cap,” I said casually, already pulling out two cold beers from the lower fridge just in case. “Roxie, care to join me?”

I braced for the eye roll. For a sharp reply. Or even a polite decline.

But she surprised me yet again.

She shrugged, acting like none of it mattered, despite our tense dinner. “Sure.”

A thrill coursed through me, though I kept my expression neutral when I heard the word.

Without another word, we slipped out through the back door, the cool night air hitting my face. Hallie and James murmured, their voices barely audible behind us, but I didn’t pay them any mind. All I could focus on was the sound of Roxie’s bare feet padding across the stone patio.

The pool shimmered beneath the moonlight, its surface like cut glass. We settled back into our lounge chairs, which were still slightly warm from the sun of the day. The clink of the bottles was the only sound as I passed her one and then twisted open my own.

For a moment, we drank in silence. No words. Just the hum of cicadas and the distant crash of waves from the beach beyond the dunes. Her eyes reflected the water. Her dress had ridden up a little, exposing more of those legs she’d been torturing me with all night.

“Nice night,” I said finally, because I was weak. I just wanted to hear her voice again.

She let out a soft huff. “Don’t try small talk with me, Sebastian.”

I turned my head to her, the beer cold against my palm. “Then what do you want?”

She was quiet for a moment as she stared out at the water. Finally, she let out a sigh before she spoke. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve spent all these years trying my best to forget you. When I made it to NYU, I dreamed about what I’d say to you if I ever saw you again. But then, I stopped thinking about you altogether.”

I didn’t flinch, at least not outwardly. Her casual, unbothered words, which made forgetting me seem as simple as deleting a contact, left me gasping for breath.

Stopped thinking about you altogether.

God, that was worse than if she’d said she hated me. At least hate meant she still felt something.

I stared down at the bottle of beer in my hand. The label was peeling from the condensation, and I did my best to focus on that instead of the way my insides ached.

My own stupidity, stemming from raging teenage hormones, had rerouted the direction of her life. It was the pain I’d caused her that was the sharpest, even though its sting was precisely what I had aimed for at the time. Seeing the outcome now made me wish I’d made different choices at seventeen. That I’d never gone to her grandfather and told him Roxie’s most guarded secrets. I’d turned my back on her because I had been jealous. I knew that now. Actually, I’d known it for a long time. I just never thought I’d have the chance to make it right.

“I guess I deserve that,” I said finally.

“No. You deserve worse,” Roxie said, her voice sharp. Then, as if she couldn’t hold the bite for long, she added quietly, “But I don’t have the energy to start hating you again. I forgot how exhausting it is.”