Bridget watches me for the longest time, her expression tight. “You need to talk to him,” she finally says. “You can’t keep living in this state of not knowing. You and Brax have always had such a good relationship, and this is the first really big bump. Right?” She waits for my nod. “You’ll get past it, but you can’t bury your head in the sand.” She reaches out to grab my hands, her grip tight. “Don’t throw away a good year because of a bad couple of weeks.”
My vision goes watery, no matter how much I try to blink the tears away. “What if it’s not just a couple of weeks?”
“What if itis?” Bridget counters. “Sitting here, in this space of not knowing…Youarejust torturing yourself. Maybe all Braxton needs is a conversation. A way to process everything and a reminder of what he has with you. He might have history with this girl, but it doesn’t sound like it was truly meaningful, and it’s not as deep as what the two of you have.”
I rub my free hand over my eyes. “You’re right,” I whisper. “I know you’re right.”
She gives me one last squeeze before pulling her hand away. “I know I am. Now, we need more drinks. And another shot.” I look down, realizing she’s finished her beer while mine is still half full. With only a slight grimace of distaste, I finish mine in one go.
“I’m glad the shop is shut tomorrow.” I chuckle weakly, setting the empty glass back on the table. “Neither of us is gonna be capable of working.”
“You’re not wrong.” Bridget’s brows dip, like she just thought of something. “Where is Braxton tonight? Is he working?” I open my mouth but then snap it shut, looking away from her. “Gracie?”
I roll my lips inward. “Okay, so you mentioned being petty earlier, right?”
“Riiight,” she draws the word out slowly.
“Well, after his attitude yesterday, I just decided not to talk to him today.” She lets out a surprised laugh as I finish, “He would’ve been sleeping this morning, but this afternoon? I wasbusy.”
“You know what? I’m here for it.” Bridget looks up, searching for a server, but they’re both busy at other tables. “I’m gonna order more drinks for us, and we can keep talking petty plans.”
“Get us some food as well,” I demand. “Maybe a burger. Or fries. Or nachos. Do they have nachos here?”
Bridget’s eyes are wide as she stares at me. “Is this you eating your feelings? I feel like I might need to intervene.”
“This is tequila making me hungry,” I retort.
“Okay, fair. I’ll accept it.” She walks over to the bar, and I watch as she flirts with the bartender, who has to be younger than her by at least five years.
“Gracie?” Something oily sneaks down my spine at that sweet voice. I’m frozen, only my eyes moving as they lift to lock with Paisley’s. She’s smiling like we’re friends, and I don’t blink, wondering how she managed to sneak into the bar without me noticing. The next thought that creeps through my mind is if she waited until I was alone to approach.
As the silence drags out, her smile falters. I shake off my uncharitable thoughts, hiding them behind a polite expression.
“Paisley, hi.”
Benson’s is casual, jeans and boots acceptable, butPaisley has turned up in a tight red dress with a flouncy hemline, strappy sandals on her feet. In a comfortable sweatshirt and work pants, I feel frumpy next to her. I fight the urge to curl my shoulders inward and hide.
“I thought that was you,” Paisley confides. “We didn't get the chance to talk much at Thanksgiving.” She pauses, tilting her head to the side, something shifting behind her brown gaze. “I was disappointed you didn’t come out for a drink with us on Sunday night…” She trails off, her eyes big and guileless as she stares at me.
“I’m going for a drink with Nick.”Braxton leans next to where I’m standing in the kitchen, his jaw unshaven and his eyes exhausted. I watch him with a furrowed brow.
“Is that a good idea? You look tired, and you’re on shift tomorrow.”
“It’s just Nick. I haven’t seen him much lately with our opposite shifts,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I’ll stay at my place tonight. I don’t want to wake you when I come in.”
I can’t tell if Paisley is intending to hurt me, but it’s a direct hit. My breath catches in my chest, sticking painfully as her words confirm that Braxton lied to me—even if it was just by omission. That night, I wondered why he didn’t invite me. I figured he wanted some guy time with Nick, and now…
I lower my lashes, refusing to give Paisley a single hint of my pain. “Yeah,” I murmur. “I was tired. The shop has been really busy lately.”
She hums. “I love that you do that. Working in a little flower shop. So cute. I have a degree in communications, which is very different.” She lets out a breezy laugh, acting like her words aren’t coated with sharp edges. “It basically means I talk too much in meetings, and I can write a damn good email.”
My mouth tightens in the corners. This girl doesn’t know me or what I have been through. She doesn’t get tostand over me, diminishing who I am or mylittle flower shop.
“Is that why you moved home?” I ask. “You graduated a couple of months ago, right?”
Paisley’s eyes shift to the side. “I’m taking some time off after spending so long getting my degree.”
“Of course,” I say evenly. “I wouldn’t know, but I can imagine how much work it took.”
