“I care about you too much to make you socialize with those toffs.”
“I appreciate that.” He steps away to close out the order, saying something that has them laughing as he hands back their credit card.
After I crashed my life into a veritable ditch, Manny let me bunk on his couch. He’s never once let me lower the bar for myself, always holding me to my word.
He’s my best mate, and it’s really fucking good to see him again.
“Look,” Manny says when he returns. “I know you want the whole deal, but afor nowworks while you wait, yeah?”
“I’m done with all that,” I fire back. It’s a new remix of an old song. He knows he can’t change my mind about this. Why bother? I’m not interested in a sycophant hanging off my arm for a night. “I got enough of that in my twenties, and back then, I actually enjoyed it. Not anymore.”
Now I want forever. A leg thrown over mine under the covers, a heartbeat to answer my own. Someone to spoil for the rest of my life, who won’t judge me for the work I do.
“Hey, I hear you, but if you’re going to go to that thing, you shouldn’t do it alone. I’m serious, mate. Say the word, and I’m there.” He would be too. Manny’s good like that.
Silently, I stare down my decision, my brother’s name in bold against the paper. I’ve already crossed an ocean. One more bridge shouldn’t feel this impossible.
“I see you’ve dressed up for me,” Manny says, and in my periphery, a pair of gray joggers hops up on a seat farther down the bar. “Your usual?”
The old leather stool scrapes against the floor as the person pulls themself closer to the bar. Funny how much that sound reminds me of home. “Thanks. And keep them coming. Maybe if I get drunk enough, I’ll forget my life is falling apart.”
Then I see her.
Well, if she isn’t a sight for these aching, greedy eyes.
“Hello, darling.”
CHAPTER5
WE MEET AGAIN
IVY
Even if I didn’t recognize the accent, I’d never forget that face.
“You,” I say calmly to the blond behemoth sitting a few stools away. Right now, my stomach is doing a Simone Biles impression, and I’ve learned to never let a man that looks this scorchingly hot know how nervous he makes me.
I try to douse the feeling with the G&T Manny serves me. It only half works.
“Ivy, you’re as exquisite as I remember.” His rich, rumbled English accent sends a shiver down my spine.
Ignoring him, I point at Manny, remembering why I came down in the first place. “I’m never letting you recommend a show again.”
He rocks back with a hand to his chest, and though he’s smiling (when is he not?), disagreeing with him always makes me feel terrible. “You didn’t like it? The games were brilliant.”
“Of course I liked it, but I’m traumatized. I cried myself to sleep last night after what happened to Joel.”
He nods, like he’s not the person who just emotionally ruined me. “Yeah, that was brutal.”
Seriously. Fuck Abby.
I turn back to Lincoln. Yep, still as ridiculously handsome as I remember. He’s wearing a short-sleeve white T-shirt over charcoal pants, looking like he’s trying to cosplay as Business Casual but mostly just hitting equal parts casual and devastating.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” I ask. “Aren’t you meant to be surfing or base jumping or something?” The tan lines he sported a year ago aren’t there anymore, but with the way the stitching in his pants is fighting for its life around his thighs, I’m going to assume he spends at least forty hours a week pumping something.
Something I’m trying very hard not to imagine at this moment. I’m failing, but at least I’m trying.
Manny barks out a laugh like I’ve just said something ridiculous, and considering the guy always has a grin at the ready, it strikes me that he’s more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him.
