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Liar.
Jamie raised her eyebrows. “You think? Am I even his type?”
“Women are Clay’s type,” I said with a hint of sarcasm in my voice. “So, yes, Jamie. You are definitely Clay’s type. Even if he’s a little too old for you.”
Okay, so that last comment came out a little harsher than I planned. Madeline raised an eyebrow and shot me a look.
Jamie thankfully didn’t notice and turned to look at Clay as he and Milo talked to Elliot. He let out a loud laugh, one I hadn’t heard in ten years. I sighed, closed my eyes, counted to ten, and took a drink.I got this.
Once Elliot took the stage, the bar was brought to life. He certainly had a following here in Portland, which made me wonder about the rest of the country. He announced his band and the playlist for the night, telling the crowd he was treating his best friend's bride to be a sneak peek into what he would be singing at their reception.
“I gotta warn you.” Elliot chuckled. “It’s a lot of country.”
The crowd laughed, but that only made them love him more. Madeline was extremely giddy. Although she’d only had the one drink, she still giggled and swayed, holding onto Milo’s hand the entire time. Milo and Clay had moved on to beers, and Jamie and I each enjoyed a second mango-rita.
And I sat, like a third wheel on a double date.
Milo and Madeline would lean in and talk to each other, resulting in small little kisses and giggles. Jamie had leaned in even closer to Clay, setting her hand on his arm, paying him a little too much attention. Needless to say, I was rolling my eyes a lot just watching them.
Every now and then, I looked at the bartender, who always winked back at me.
Maybe you could go home with him tonight. . .
Nope. No, no, no. That is NOT Ophelia Fuller.
Elliot’s voice softened, and the music faded. I turned my attention to him as he went and got a drink of water and grabbed an acoustic guitar.
“Let’s slow things down just a tad. Not too slow, but just enough. Madeline, here’sGrave.”Elliot smiled as he looked at our table. Madeline sat up in her seat, her jaw dropping.
Elliot crooned the opening line to the song. No music accompanied him at first, just him and his voice. I sighed and watched. I’ll admit, he was almost as good as Thomas Rhett himself. It was the same song he was singing when Clay and I first walked in, one that I knew Madeline loved. She sat upright in her chair, her eyes wide as she took in the song. Faster than he could react, Madeline grabbed Milo’s arm and pulled him out onto the dance floor, where they instantly latched on to each other. Milo mouthed the words to the song to her, looking at her as if she was the only thing he ever needed.
“Clay, wanna dance?” Jamie asked as she ran her fingers over to his hand.
Clay sighed and looked at me for a fraction of a second, then back at Jamie. “I’d love to.” He smiled back.
Hey, that's my smile.
Clay took her hand and led her out to the dance floor with the other couples, slipping his arm around her waist as she trailed her palm up his chest and laced her fingers in his hair. He pulled her close and with him being so tall, he gazed down as she looked up to meet his eyes.
I shook my head, took a deep breath, and downed the rest of my drink.
What thehellhas gotten into me?
Elliot sang the lyrics, taking the love of his life with him when he dies, making every woman in the bar swoon, as he watched his friends dance and kiss in front of him.
“I’m gonna take you to the grave with me. . .” I said aloud, matching Elliot’s tune. The music picked up, and Milo and Madeline kissed, while Jamie gave Clay a flirty smile. The smirk he returned only made the fire rumble in my stomach.
“Damnit,” I grumbled, standing up from the table, leaving my drink behind. I didn’t want to watch this. I couldn’t watch this.
After making it to the street, not knowing I needed the air, I took in a deep breath, the warmth hitting my lungs, pulling me back to reality. I was the one who told Jamie to dance with him, the one who insisted Clay and I were nothing and who claimed I wasn’t hurt from all those years ago. So why was I feeling this way? Nerves ran up my spine, and anger slipped into my heart. There was no other word for it.
Heartbreak. Jealousy.
No. I wasn’t heartbroken, and I definitely wasn’t jealous. I was stronger than that.
I stood up straight, took my millionth deep breath, and looked up at the night sky.
You are Ophelia Fuller, and you are worth more than that.
