The table is suddenly silent, a few of the guys exchanging awkward glances.
My grip tightens around the beer bottle. There’s a good chance the glass might crack. “Of course not. But you have good judgment, so if you like him …”
An uncomfortable silence lingers around the table as we all wait for Cammie’s response. She scoffs softly, then takes a sip of her drink.
I look at Gus. He shrugs a shoulder, not knowing what to do about the awkwardness either.
“I’m going to the restroom,” Cammie mutters, sliding off her stool and heading toward the back of the bar.
I sigh heavily. “Fuck.”
No one asks. They all know—like Emily said. I wasn’t just making bad decisions back then. I didn’t bother to hide a single one.
Wade clears his throat. “She’ll get over it.”
Will she? It’s been over a year.
I take a swig of beer, then stand and follow Cammie. There’s a small stage back here that sometimes gets used for live music or karaoke—a couple is currently making out against it—and a pool table.
A few minutes later, Cammie reappears. She sighs when she sees me waiting, approaching slowly.
“Can we talk outside?” I ask.
She nods, heading for the door. I trail behind, dreading the approaching conversation.
“I’m sorry,” I say once we’re outside.
She exhales, wrapping her arms around herself. “No. I am. I overreacted.”
“If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you. That’s all I was trying to say.”
“I know.” Cammie swallows, glancing at the ground. “I’ve been … I’ve been waiting for you to change your mind. About us. Are you ever going to?”
I swallow, too, delaying the honest answer. “No.”
I said it softly, but she still flinches.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I never should have?—”
“It wasn’t you. I wanted to. I knew you were hurting, that you’d been drinking that night. I’m not even sure you knew it was me for most of it.” She rubs the toe of her shoe in the dirt. “I don’t want you to keep apologizing. Just … I thought you’d finally see me differently after it happened. And then I told myself you needed more time to come to terms with … everything. But now … I guess I needed to hear you say it. To tell me to stop waiting.”
“It’s not you, Cammie. I’m fucked up after everything that happened. I can’t—I’m not capable of?—”
“Lovers’ quarrel, Bennett?”
I stiffen, recognizing the voice. Spin slowly to face a smirking Brett Nichols.
He looks the same as the last time I saw him a year ago. He’s good-looking, I guess. The guy always gets plenty of female attention since he can be charming on the rare occasion he’s not acting like a prick.
“Just a private conversation, Nichols,” I reply evenly.
Brett glances past me. “Hey, Cammie. I didn’t recognize you at first. Figured you’d have stopped hanging around, begging for scraps of Bennett’s attention, by now.”
I clench and unclench my fists slowly, trying to rein in my temper.
“Fuck off, Brett,” Cammie retorts.
“I’d treat you a lot better than the so-called Captain ever did, sweetheart.”
