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“And remember the wedding he mentioned?”
“Yep, I remember. He’s kinda young, no? Only a few years older than us?”
“Two years. And his age isn’t the issue. It’s that he’s marrying my ex.”
I wasn’t sure if Harlow mentioned our conversation to Conor. I didn’t ask her not to say anything. Didn’t tell her Conor didn’t know the real reason I returned to LA. I told him and Hunter it was for a family thing, not an engagement party, and neither of them pushed for any details.
I’m pleasantly surprised when I glance over and see the obvious shock on Hart’s face.
Conor having a girlfriend has been a different dynamic. Realizing Harlow kept our conversation in confidence feels good. It makes me feel like she’s a friend, not just his girl.
“You haveexes?” Conor asks. “I thought you’ve never dated anyone.”
“I only have one ex. We dated in high school. She ended things before I started at Holt. I never mentioned her because I wanted college to be a fresh start.”
“So, what? She broke up with you and then started dating your brother?”
“Pretty much.”
He shakes his head, incredulous. “Dude, that’s fucked up.”
“I know. I thought I was over it, but they announced their engagement in November. That got into my head, I guess.”
“Fuck, Phillips. I’m so sorry.”
We’re in Gaffney’s parking lot now, but neither of us moves to climb out of the truck.
“Thanks. I just haven’t wanted to talk about it. Not a damn thing that’ll change it, so I’ve been trying to just forget it’s happening.”
“You think it’ll actually happen? The wedding?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“She might just be trying to get your attention.”
I’m positive that’s how their relationship started. Parker always had a scheming streak. But Conor has no clue about the pretentious world my parents are a part of. Parker’s family too. There’s no way she would have said yes to Jameson’s proposal unless she was planning to follow through on marrying him. The scandal of jilting him at the altar would horrify her mother and mine. She cares too much about their approval—now, she didn’t when we were younger—just like Jameson does.
“Are you still in love with her?” Conor asks when I say nothing.
I shake my head. “Definitely not. I hate how it affected my relationship with my family. How Jameson thinks he won. It has nothing to do with her anymore.”
“Won?” Conor nudges my arm with his elbow. “You’re the one who’s about to be lifting a trophy.”
“We haven’t won anything yet, Hart.”
This is a weird role reversal. Usually I’m the optimist and he’s the one pulling me back to reality with reminders of all that could go wrong.
“We will.” Conor’s voice is as confident as I’ve ever heard it. “You’ve been playing on a different level lately, man.”
“There aren’t many games left to play in,” I remind him. “Might as well go out with a bang.”
He nods, but I catch the spasm of unease in his expression. Realize I just reminded Conor they could be his last games too.
My stomach grumbles. “C’mon,” I say. “I’m starving.”
We head inside, snagging a high-top table toward the back of the bar with a prime view of one of the flatscreens. Basketball’s on, which is not a favorite sport. And reminds me, I owe Thomas an apology. I haven’t seen him since the last time I was here, when I acted like a jealous dick. Not even acted like—I was one.
It’s not as packed in here as usual, but it’s still busy. And plenty of people call out as they pass by our table, recognizing us. I wonder if we’ll be as popular on campus once the season is over. Especially if we lose.
