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My neck nearly snaps in half, distancing myself from the dizzying interruption.
“Fucking finally,” I wheeze, feeling exhausted. Tired.
Confusion overshadows the strength in her voice. “What?”
“It took you three years, but for once, you were honest.” Light-headed, my blood flows too warm underneath my skin. “You fessed up. Admitted you forgot.” Every nerve in my body fires back alive. “I get it. It’s…okay…”
If the outline of my face swims, then Hailey’s floods. Her relief that of a tidal wave.
“You sure?” The need in her tone is palpable.
“As sure as I am that I can make a better taco.” And I am. This place used to be our favorite, but that doesn’t mean I can’t top it.
Her eyebrow curves at the challenge. “Is that so?”
“You can bet on it, Williams.”
“Williams,” Hailey cogitates. “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”
She’s right. I haven’t.
My brows crash as more heat rises to my neck. Why did I do that? The nickname—her last name—slipped out before I could catch myself.
My stomach churns into an airy ball of knots and nerves.
What’s wrong with me?
“Don’t…” rushes past her lips and her eyes seal closed as if they are a tomb. The one thing to block the world out. Block me out.
The moment of liveliness dying between us with the same ease of the thick, torturous pressure it’s been replaced with.
Her eyes slowly crack back open, and they’re as bruised as they are conflicted.
She rolls the napkin I gave her between her finger and thumb. Her breath is as shaky as her hand. “I like it, the nickname,” she admits, no louder than a whisper.
Our eyes catch and they hold. Fresh shivers rack my neck when I watch as her breath catches and a sharp, insistent sound exudes.
The anchor I have while watching her comes thundering back when it was a presence I thought slipped away a long time ago. Something lost but suddenly found.
Even in the headache that is our partnership, I allow this one time to give in to her pity and, in the process, allow myself the same action.
I puff out my chest to disguise the tremble I know is on my tongue. “Just finish your tacos, Williams.”
twenty-two
Finn
“Sohowdoweconvince you to change your mind and let us throw you anactualbachelor party and not some joint thing?”
Cole gives me the same look he’s been giving me the whole evening. My mouth twists in disapproval at yet another rejection.
A joint bachelor and bachelorette party? What kind of fun is that? A waste of a good celebration if you ask me. Screams lame as shit, no fun, last fling before the ring to me. It’s complete and utter garbage.
“You know this is what Rory and I already decided on. Deal with it.” Cole says, uncaring of anyone else’s opinion on the matter.
Lame.
“Come on, we gotta do something,” I whine.
