"We don't," I fire back instantly, glaring harder.
His mouth quirks at the corner, that stupid almost-smile like he's enjoying himself. "We definitely do."
"We absolutely don't."
"Caroline." He leans an inch closer, eyes locked on mine like he's trying to reel me in. "We do."
The table's gone quiet, but I can feel it—Tammy, Lucy, Katie—every pair of eyes bouncing back and forth between us like we're the damn US Open.
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
It's ridiculous, childish, infuriating. And judging by the twitch in his jaw, the slight curl to his lip, he knows exactly what he's doing—poking, prodding, dragging this out just to see me squirm.
And the worst part? My friends are eating it up.
"Seriously," Katie finally blurts, eyes darting between us like she's about to explode. "What is it? Do you two actually know each other or not?"
"Yes," Zach answers before I can open my mouth. "We grew up in Naples. We're next door neighbors, actually. Friends—" his eyes flick to mine, softening, "no, best friends. For twenty-one years."
My laugh is humorless, and cuts straight through his little speech. "Not anymore."
His brow furrows, the easy amusement he had a second ago draining out of his face.
"And set the record straight, Westbrook—we were only friends for eighteen years." I lean forward just enough, "But honestly? I don't even know if we ever really were."
It's like I just slapped him.
His smile is gone, confusion etching into every line of his face.
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" His voice is lower now, searching, like he's actually desperate for an answer.
I don't give him one.
Instead, I push back my chair, grab my purse, and stand. My hand slips into my wallet, tugging out a crisp hundred. I set it on the table like it's a full stop to this entire conversation.
"Care?" Tammy's voice cracks. "Wait—what? You're leaving? You literally just got here."
Lucy frowns, wide-eyed. "Yeah, what's going on?"
I force a smile that doesn't come close to my eyes. "Forgot I'm supposed to meet Adam tonight. We've got lines to run."
Katie blinks. "But—"
"See you all tomorrow," I cut in, already turning, already walking. I don't give them time to protest again. I can feel Zach's stare drilling into me, but I keep my eyes forward.
The noise of the bar swallows me as I weave toward the exit, head high, steps brisk. I'm already pulling out my phone, thumb flying over the Uber app. Closest ride: seven minutes.
Ugh. Seven minutes too long.
"Caroline—wait!"
Of course. Heavy footsteps behind me, the voice I swore I'd never let crack me again snapping at my heels.
