“I’ll think about it,” she says finally.
It’s not a yes. But it’s not a no.
“OK.” I nod. “Thank you.”
She looks at me for another moment—something flickering across her face, too fast to identify—and then she pushes off the bar, grabbing her drink.
“I’m going to dance with my girls.” She pauses. “Try not to spiral while I’m gone.”
“I always spiral.”
“I know.” And there it is—the ghost of a smile. Barely there. Gone before I can be sure I saw it.
But I saw it. Isawit.
That’s the Audrey I remember. The one who used to tease me about my spiraling. Who knew all my worst habits and somehow found them endearing instead of pathetic. She’s still in there, underneath the blonde hair and the armor and the hurt I caused.
She walks away, and I let her go. But something in my chest unclenches for the first time in three months.
I’ll think about itisn’t forgiveness. It isn’t friendship. But it’s not nothing, either.
She reaches the space near the jukebox—a makeshift dance floor now—where Layla and Serena pull her in with delighted shrieks. The three of them move together, laughing, and it’s like watching her come back to life, one drink at a time, with her friends instead of with me.
It should make me happy, seeing her laugh again.
It does. And it doesn’t. Because I want to be out there with her. I want her hips under my hands, her laugh against my ear, her body close enough to feel her warmth.
But I had my chance. And I put my hand on her face like a malfunctioning traffic light.Stop.When everything in me was screaming,go.
I turn back to the bar and signal Jake. “Another whiskey.”
He pours without comment. I wrap my hands around the glass and stare at the amber liquid as if it has answers.
“That looked heavy.”
David settles onto the stool beside me, his own drink in hand. His expression is neutral—not prying, just present.
“You heard that?”
“Enough.” He takes a sip, facing the room instead of me. “I’m not going to ask what happened between you two. That’s your business.”
“Thanks.”
We sit in silence for a moment. On the dance floor, Audrey is twirling Serena in a clumsy circle, both of them laughing when they nearly crash into a table.
“But if you ever need to talk,” David says quietly. “My door’s open.” He glances at me. “I know something about carrying things you can’t explain to anyone else.”
I think about his ex-wife. His daughter. The way he shows up every single day without complaint, handling everything alone. There’s a reason he never talks about what happened—a reason the others tiptoe around it. Whatever David’s carrying, it’s heavier than he lets anyone see.
“I appreciate that.”
He nods once, finishes his whiskey, and sets the glass on the bar. “I should head out. Bedtime stories don’t read themselves, and my nanny’s hourly rate increases the later I am.” He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Get home safe, Logan.”
“Yeah. You too.”
He leaves. I stay at the bar, nursing my whiskey, watching Audrey dance.
I’ll think about it.
