Something flickers across her face, but then her name is called out from across the room. She glances in that direction before giving me another lingering look. “I’m meeting some friends from school. You know how it is when you grow up in the same place. Everyone knows everyone. It was great seeing you.” She gives me one last smile, spinning on her heel and sashaying away, her long hair trailing down her back.
My stomach churns as I watch her, barely noticing when Bridget sets two beers down, sliding back into her seat. “Don’t tell me that was her?”
“Yep,” I say blandly. “She came to tell me that she was disappointed I wasn’t there last Sunday.” I look back at her. “At the bar. Where he told me he was meeting Nick.JustNick.”
“Oh, that manipulative little…” Her glare is dark, but wasted on Paisley. Her back is to us as she sits down at a table with two other people.
“Is she, though?” I wonder.
Bridget turns that look on me. “You know she did it on purpose. She told you, hoping that hehadn’t, to put doubts in your head.”
“I know.” I drag my beer closer, fingers clutched around the cold glass, using the cool sensation to ground myself. “But it wouldn’t have happened if Braxton hadn’t given her that power.”
An hour later,we’ve eaten our fill of nachos, and I’ve downed enough drinks that I’m not even tempted to look at Paisley’s table. I’ve also drunk enough that I’m getting really good at lying to myself.
Bridget squints, pointing at where my phone is lying on the table. “It’s buzzing,” she slurs right as she knocks an empty glass over. “Oops!”
I snicker, my eyes flicking to the phone screen and then back to her, all amusement sliding away. “It’shim! Should I answer? What should I say?”
Bridget laughs. “You could start with hello.”
I roll my eyes, making my head spin. I slap both hands on the table to steady myself, knocking into my phone and sending it skidding off the table.
“Shit.” I scoop it off the floor, no longer vibrating. “It’s fine. I think.” Braxton starts calling again, and my stomach swoops nauseatingly. “I’m not having it out with him while I’m drunk,” I announce stubbornly.
Bridget hums. “Okay.” I peek up at her, and she simply asks, “Why?”
“He’ll talk me round,” I admit. “I know myself, and I know him…Well, I thought I did. And this isn’t something he should be able to brush under the carpet. I need to be clear-headed and coherent and logical?—”
“Pretty sure they all mean the same thing.”
“—and he needs to listen and really get how I feel. No matter what else, that conversation on Thanksgiving wasfuckinginappropriate, and then the drinks…”
Bridget nods sagely. “I back you.” She eyes me seriously. “Should we jump him? Beat the truth out of him?” I press my lips together, the temptation a little too strong—and Iamnota violent person. “If you want it to be a little more impersonal, we could run him over with my car.” Bridget flutters her eyelashes innocently. “And then reverse a little.”
A snort escapes. “Should we be contemplating this kind of…actionin such a public place?”
She lifts a shoulder. “Probably not, but whoever monitors my phone has heard a lot worse.”
“Who would want to moni—” I flap a hand around my head. “You know what? I don’t wanna know.”
Bridget points at me. “The phone is ringing again. Considering his absence this week, he’s being a bit clingy tonight, isn’t he?”
I scowl down at the device still clutched in my hand. “Probably because I haven’t been at his beck and call. It’s alright to ignore me, but when I ignore him, he acts like the world is ending.”
Anger surges through my bloodstream. Without thinking about it, I jab my thumb down on the screen to connect the call, snapping, “What?” as I put it to my ear.
“Gracie?” Braxton blurts. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why?”
“Why?What do you mean,why?” he demands. “I went past the florist and your apartment, and had no idea where you were. I’ve been going out of my mind! I thought you’d been in a car crash or something.” He’s breathing heavily down the line, and there’s a pang of sympathy for him down in my little toe, but it’s not enough to douse my anger and hurt.
“I’m out with Bridget,” I tell him stiffly. “I wasn’t aware we had plans.”
There’s a pause. “It’s Saturday night.” Braxton’s voice is full of confusion. “You know I finished my shift this morning.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be picking up more shifts forBen,” I say reasonably. “And I didn’t hear from you, so when Bridget asked me for drinks, I said yes.”
