I scoff to assert my annoyance, but I can feel my face heat. Of course, he had to remember that embarrassing detail.
“As those are my only two potential suitors at the moment, apparently I do.”
“You’re missing the most important element. They both want you.” I make a disbelieving face, and he rolls his eyes. “They do. You’re a catch, Remy. Just remember that you have the power to say no to commitment after dessert. There is nothing wrong with getting a little D without all the baggage that comes with it.”
Frowning, I absorb how that sounds a lot like having casual sex and no long-term plan. He must see the conflict on my face.
“Hey, all I’m saying is that it’s okay to get sucked by a few frogs without co-leasing before you find your prince.”
I must be immune to his analogies at this point. Either that or I’m so used to them that they’re starting to make sense because my gaze drifts to Chris again. Could I really sleep with him again and not be haunted by visions of him moving around my kitchen with me or curled up on my couch? Ugh. I’m hopeless.
“What if…I don’t know how?” I ask warily, swallowing against a lump in my throat.
“Fuck.” Jamie sighs, pulling my attention back to him. I flash him a pained, yet appreciative smile for understanding the mess that I am. “All right, let’s get out of here.”
I nod, knowing deep down it’s probably for the best. Jamie throws back the rest of his beer and rises. I hear him curse softly under his breath, and then a deep voice rumbles to my left.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
My eyes work their way up the snug black T-shirt that’s now right in front of me until I’m staring into the determined-looking face of my weakness. It feels like a moment as we look at each other. A very loaded moment. Something inside me celebrates. He came over.
“Hey! Chris!” Jamie cheers, jostling me from my haze when he throws an arm around me.
“Hey,” I add, breathlessly, suddenly conflicted by my friend’s cockblocking. “Um…I think we were just leaving.”
Chris’ nostrils flare. I swear his gaze moves to where Jamie’s hand is squeezing my shoulder before looking back at me like I’ve committed a crime. Is he…jealous?
“Long time no see,” Jamie adds with more feigned enthusiasm, and I can detect a hint of saltiness over being ignored. Typical Jamie.
Gaze shifting, there’s no less agitation in it as Chris looks at my friend. “Jamie,” he grunts.
My pulse is on double-time, which I absently realize is silly for a thirty-seven-year-old man, but I can’t help it. Especially as Chris’ gaze crosses mine for an instant before he turns and walks away. Was that a flash of hurt in his eyes? What just happened?
“Wow, yeah. We need to leave,” Jamie mutters. “Come on, Romeo.”
His slap on my back brings me back to the present. I nod and take a gulp of my beer to wet my throat. Standing up, I dig my keys out of my pocket. When Jamie starts across the bar ahead of me, I take the opportunity to locate Chris again. He’s not at the bar, though. The sensation of loss that ripples through me fills me with regret. Is he always going to disappear from my life like a wispy cloud on a strong wind?
As we near the door, I see it swing shut, a wide frame ambling through it. I nearly run into Jamie’s back. I can tell he’s slowing down on purpose, but I fiddle with my keys to play ignorant and walk around him. Something urgent in my steps for one last sight of Chris.
Outside, I’m surprised to find he hasn’t made more ground, descending the last step from the bar entrance. He sways for a second before moving forward across the gravel lot.
“Is he driving?” I murmur to Jamie as I watch Chris tug a set of keys from his jeans pocket.
“Hopefully only a bumper car at a carnival.”
It’s not the answer I wanted to hear. As we stall at the doorway, a sense of protectiveness prickles my skin, watching Chris’ fame shift further to and fro.
“Shit,” I hiss, remembering that horrid image of his fancy car on the news. I move without further thought, ignoring Jamie’s groan behind me. “Chris? Can we give you a ride?”
His footsteps stop abruptly, and he swings around, looking suspicious. His gaze flicks to Jamie and then back to me, frowning.
“Why?”
“You just…look like you shouldn’t drive.”
“Or…” Jamie chimes in, coming up beside me and throwing his arm around my shoulders again, “We can call you a cab, and then Sugar Britches and I can get home and snuggle.”
I’ve never seen a look more full of disappointment. “You marriedPajamies?” Chris says accusingly.
