Hot pink denim is tight around her thighs but flows around her ankles, revealing pink high-top Converse. A cream tank top clings to her chest, accentuating toned arms and shoulders. Seeing her at work five days ago was painful, but seeing her here is downright brutal.
“Hi,” I say, waving like an idiot.
Shay’s jaw ticks as our friends filter out of the living room, leaving us alone. We might have been alone in the boardroom for a few minutes, but this feels different. She doesn’t have to hide our history here. And she doesn’t have to act as if she likes me.
I clear my throat. “Congrats.”
She presses her lips together, clearly unimpressed by my shoddy conversational skills. “Thanks, Cade. I look forward to working with you professionally.”
Lie, but I want to believe it’s true.
She ran out of Permian’s boardroom before the ink on my contract was dry and didn’t look back.
“Mallory said no work talk, but let’s meet next week during your homestand.” My lips quirk at her use of the baseball term as she opens her phone’s calendar app and swipes to the first game of our series inCharlotte. “We can discuss your goals and what you want from this partnership.”
I nod, but what I want isn’t possible. All I want is for Shay to look at me like she used to. I want to hear her bubbly laugh until she cries. I want to pepper her cheeks with kisses until she dissolves into a mess on my lap. I want her to hold my hand when she’s scared like she did the night we got our ears pierced together.
Gold hoops dangle from her earlobes, and I rub the small silver hoop in mine.
“I see you conquered your fear and got a few more.”
Slim fingers fiddle with the two additions at the top of her ear. “They hurt way less than the first. I still can’t believe I bled that much. It looked like I had survived a horror movie.”
“We should’ve gone to the hospital the moment you started screaming.”
Shay’s determination to get her ears pierced, even though she was afraid of needles, was admirable. Earlier that night, she’d eaten a spoonful of cat food so I wasn’t alone, which is why I got my ears pierced too.
Solidarity was always our thing.
The heavy fog of tension lessens slightly, but as Kenneth and Mallory round the corner, it returns in full force. Bare shoulders rise, calm features pinch, and Shay puts an extra step between us. No matter how clear it is that things have changed, it still hurts like hell.
Mallory’s smile is weak. “Hey, sorry to interrupt. Dessert is ready.”
Kenneth’s eyes bore into me as Shay darts away from us. They’re not accusatory or judgmental. Just sad, which is almost worse.
“Did something happen?” he asks.
I grin.Keep smiling.“No. Everything is fine. You don’t need to worry about her.”
“What if we’re not only worried about her?” Mallory snaps. “Have you thought about that?”
Her tone is what almost undoes me, but keeping them from worrying is my main priority. If I start digging into everything that happened over the last two years with Jon and baseball and my crumbling mental health, they would try to move in with me.
Losing Shay was my fault, and instead of talking about it, I bottled it up with everything else and threw myself deeper into baseball and my image.
I wrap my arms around my two best friends and rest my chin in Mallory’s coconut-scented twist out. “Don’t worry about me, MalPal. You either, Kent. That’s the last thing I want.”
After convincing them I’m fine, I snag a seat at the dining table beside Adri. The steaming peach cobbler sits in a pink baking dish with a graduation hat poking out of the flaky, perfectly browned top. Dessert before dinner is a Quartet tradition—stopping for ice cream on their way to pick up Thai food or buying candy before their pizza feast.
“Joelly Bean!” Shay beams. “You made me a peach cobbler?”
Cloudy blue eyes meet mine in a panicked stare, but before Jo can respond, Adri giggles.
“Jo didn’t make that. Cade did.”
My cheeks flush. It was supposed to be a secret, but Adri wasn’t around when we discussed.
Shay lifts a skeptical, perfectly shaped brow. “You? Made this?”
