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The line disconnects a second later.

I stare at my phone for a moment before forcing myself to turn back toward the restaurant.

Johnathon stands as soon as I walk over. “Everything alright?”

I grab my clutch from the table, suddenly too aware of how ridiculous this looks. “My son’s father drank too much,” I admit, embarrassed. “I need to go pick him up.”

There’s a flicker of surprise across his face. “Is he okay?”

“He will be.” I sigh. “He’s just… stupid.”

That gets a laugh out of him.

“I’m really sorry,” I add quickly. “Tonight was really nice.”

“It’s okay,” he says easily, reaching for his wallet before I can protest. “Go handle your family.”

I thank him again, more flustered now than I was at the start of the date, and hurry out toward my car just as Simon’s location finally comes through.

***

Simon is leaning heavily against the side of his truck when I pull into the parking lot. The second my headlights hit him, I can tell he’s worse than I thought. I park beside him and climb out quickly, shutting the door behind me.

“Simon?” I walk toward him carefully. “What’s going on?”

This isn’t like him. He drinks, sure, but Simon keeps himself together, and right now he looks wrecked.

“I’m really fucking drunk,” he says, swaying slightly as he pushes himself upright.

“I can see that.” I move closer, lowering my voice automatically. “What’s—”

“You look good,” he blurts out suddenly.

I freeze and blink at him.

He looks me up and down. “Haven’t seen you in heels since prom, I think.”

“Simon—”

“You look really…” He trails off, eyes unfocused for a second like he forgot where the sentence was going.

I glance toward the bar entrance. “Who are you here with? Let me go tell them I’m taking you—”

“No.” He shakes his head too hard and immediately regrets it. “Veronica will kill me. She thinks I’m calling Theo.”

I stare at him. “Why can’t she take you home?”

“I don’t fucking want her. I want—”

“Simon?” A woman’s voice cuts through the parking lot.

A blonde woman rounds the side of the building and stops dead when she sees us standing there together. She’s gorgeous, blond, skinny, wearing what I’m positive is one of Simon’s hoodies.

This has to be Veronica.

Her eyes move from me, to Simon, then back to me again. Looking me up and down, though her gaze feels predatory in a completely different way than Simon’s did.

“Uh,” she says slowly. “What’s going on?”