Page 71 of Trust Fund Baby

Then I saw James’s nerves kick in. There was a moment of hesitation, so I did the one thing I could do best—be James’s wingman and push him toward his future with a simple supportive nudge.

“Can I buy you an Old Fashioned?” he finally asked, clearly trying to break the ice by ordering the drink that had become his namesake in Hallie’s column.

A warm smile broke out across Hallie’s face. “I would love an Old Fashioned,” she said.

James waved down Joey, the bartender, before turning back to his girl.

“It’s really good to see you, Hal,” James said, and they were staring at each other like they’d just stepped into their own little world.

Which left me standing there like the unwanted extra in a wedding photo.

I slid onto the open stool beside Roxie, clearing my throat. “Hi, Hallie.”

Her head turned, surprise flashing in her eyes before she smiled. But Roxie cut in, her voice cool and smooth, like she was deliberately stepping in front of a bullet. “Sebastian.”

“Rox.” Just saying her name hit me like a drink I’d been craving for weeks.

She glanced at Hallie and James, then back to me, like she wasn’t sure if she should be policing the situation or walking away from it entirely. “Thank you for keeping up your end of our agreement.”

“Of course,” I said, leaning an elbow on the bar. “Though, I’m just here for moral support. Let’s be honest.”

“That’s about all you’re good for, isn’t it?” She gave me that infuriating little smirk—the one that somehow punched me straight in the chest. It lingered just long enough to make me wonder if she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

Before I could push back with a half-decent comeback, the bar erupted. Whistles, shouts, the unmistakable sound of glass tapping against wood.

I turned just in time to catch James’s hand cupping Hallie’s jaw, his mouth on hers like they were the only two people in the world. Hallie melted into him, and for a split second, I almost forgot where I was. It was one of those rare, raw moments—the kind you’d only see once in your life if you were lucky. Something straight out of the movies.

Roxie’s head tilted, looking at her best friend like she’d been watching a romcom for hours, waiting for this kiss to happen. Her smile softened, and in that light, she didn’t look like the razor-sharp Roxie King I was used to sparring with. She looked warm.

Vulnerable, even.

The moment passed, the noise around us rising again, and Hallie and James disappeared into their own little bubble at the far end of the bar.

“Well,” I said, turning back to Roxie. “There’s that, I suppose.”

Her eyes flicked to mine, still glinting from the afterglow of the moment, but there was something else there now that was far more guarded than it had been before.

“Guess our little matchmaking plan worked,” I said, nodding toward James and Hallie who were already lost in conversation, their drinks forgotten in front of them as they caught up on the last few weeks apart.

Roxie traced the rim of her glass with one finger. “Don’t give yourself too much credit. I did the heavy lifting.”

I leaned a little closer, close enough that her perfume, which would always be embedded in my brain, wrapped around me. “I seem to recall being the one who dragged James here.”

She arched one perfectly shaped brow. “Dragged? More like babysat him long enough to get him through the door and make sure he didn’t chicken out.”

“Semantics.”

Her gaze stayed locked on mine, unflinching. It was infuriating how easily she could do that—stand her ground without even moving. I’d faced billion-dollar deals and clients who thought they could eat me alive because I was just the playboy son of the company’s owner, and none of them had shaken me the way Roxie King did with a single look.

“You’re enjoying this,” I said.

“Of course I am,” she replied, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I get to sit here and watch my best friend be happy. You’re the only downside in this equation. Are you going to get a drink, by the way? You’re just sitting there twirling your thumbs.”

“I’m not drinking anymore,” I told her, accepting the glass of water that Joey set down in front of me. James must have ordered it for me.

Roxie’s brows lifted slightly, like she was trying to decide if that was a joke or a confession. “Since when?”

“Since a few weeks ago,” I said, rolling the glass between my palms. “It’s complicated.”