I glance around again, then lower my voice further, like the ficus across the aisle might gossip. “You don’t… need to rush. If you’re… working on something. Internally.”
I wince. This is going terribly.
I drag a hand over my face, then force myself to square my shoulders and try one more time, slower, the way I talk to employees when something’s gone wrong and they’re waiting for direction. “You’re not failing,” I tell it. “You’re… developing. That’s progress.”
It still feels strange in my mouth, but less ridiculous than the first attempt. I nod once, like we’ve reached an understanding.
I grab the small portable speaker from the shelf under the table, plug it in, and scroll through my phone until I land on a slow instrumental jazz playlist. The first soft notes drift into the air, weaving through the hum of heaters and the drip of irrigation lines.
I slide the speaker closer to the pot and lower the volume so only it can hear. Geez, I’m losing it.
“There,” I say under my breath. “Ambience.” I hesitate, then add, quieter, “You’re… unique.”
The word sticks in my throat, irritating and familiar all at once.
I straighten, shove my hands into my jacket pockets, and head for the door, leaving the hybrid bathed in music and warm light and a ridiculous notion that Darby might be on to something.
9
Darby
Gabby and Justice’s place glows like a winter postcard. Warm light spills through the back windows. Laughter rolls across the patio when I step through the gate with Greg at my side. It hits my chest, coaxing a smile out of me.
Greg slows, taking it all in with an assessing look. It’s loud. Friendly. Familiar.
I bump his elbow lightly, reminding him he’s allowed to breathe. “It’s not a job interview,” I murmur.
His mouth twitches. “Feels like one.”
“Congratulations,” I whisper. “You’re dating a woman with a built-in jury.”
His gaze slides to me, warm and resigned at the same time. “Lucky me.”
I’m a little nervous, dragging him into a lion’s den of inside jokes, relationship history and construction crew energy. But the weird part is, I’m excited, too. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m arriving to watch everyone else’s life happen. I’m arriving with mine.
Justice spots us first. He lifts his beer in greeting. “Look who finally showed up.”
Gabby moves faster, wrapping me in a hug. She pulls back and looks between me and Greg with a glint that makes my shoulders tighten. “Welcome to our home, Greg.” She glances around. “Just don’t judge our landscaping too harshly. We’ll call a professional next time.”
Gabby’s smile goes wide. She extends a hand to Greg with that polite, hostess grace she can flip on like a switch. “Make yourself comfortable. Drink of choice?”
Greg shakes her hand carefully, like he’s trying not to crush her fingers. “Whatever’s easiest.”
Justice leans over and claps Greg on the shoulder with the kind of friendly force that makes it clear he’s decided they’re already buddies. Greg absorbs it, blinking once. “Good to meet you.”
The backyard hums with bodies and voices, a knot of friends gathered around the patio. There’s a table full of snacks and a couple of outdoor heaters standing like sentries at each end of the pool.
Kari spots me and squeals before reining in her excitement. I mean, it’s been five days since we’ve seen each other. “Darbs.”
My brother, Grey, follows close behind her. He eyes Greg like a protective older brother would. “So this is him,” he mumbles close to my ear as he brushes by me.
“This is him,” I let out a nervous breath. “Don’t embarrass me.”
My brother and friends are feral, but I’m not trying to die tonight.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He smirks. “Grey,” he says, offering a handshake.
Greg’s eyes narrow just slightly. “Greg.”
