Vin’s words are for Gavin, but he keeps his eyes on me. “I’ll letSophiatell you all about it,” he says and heads toward the bar without looking back.
Gavin watches him go. “So youdon’thave a man?”
“Idon’thave a man,” I confirm.
He turns back to me, his expression both skeptical and sympathetic. “Right,” he says quietly. He lifts his glass. “Happy New Year, Sophia.”
I lift mine. “Happy New Year, Gavin.”
6
VIN
I’m at the bar, trying hard to focus on the row of bottles behind the bartender. Not the mirror behind those bottles. Not the reflection of Sophie talking to that Irish fuck, Gavin. I’ve known that guy forever. He’s quiet, a nice guy. He’s perfect for her, and I fucking hate him for it.
The party is loud, waves of laughter and conversation that crash into each other and start over again. Everyone is talking too fast, drinking too much, and it’s making everything about tonight fucking worse. I’m nursing my third whiskey and trying to remember why I even fucking showed up in the first place.
Over the chatter and music, a woman’s voice sounds off high-pitched and loud: “Tommy!”
The conversation drops in half as everyone quiets to figure out what’s going on. When we realize it’s Giovanna and she screamshis name again, I roll my eyes and a few people stifle a laugh. Just Tommy fucking Giovanna again, somewhere out of sight but not out of earshot.
When I turn back to the bar, I slam right into Sophie’s gaze in the mirror behind the bottles. I can’t look away from her reflection. I feel it everywhere. I want to feelhereverywhere.
She looks away first. Then back again. She’s just short of glaring at me, her jaw tight, chin up. Defensive. I think she hates me, and my stomach twists at the thought. Sweet fucking Sophie. You have to be a real fucking shit heel for her to look at you the way she’s looking at me right now.
I guess that makes me a shit heel.
A champagne cork pops and someone cheers. I toss back the rest of my whiskey and set the glass down.
“Ten!” As the countdown starts, I turn to survey the crowd, leaning back against the bar. I immediately lock on Sophie.
Sophie and that fuck, Gavin.
“Nine! Eight!”
Ronan is trying to get my attention from across the rooftop, Ashlyn standing next to him, watching. I ignore them both. Everyone around Sophie and Gavin fades into a blur as Gavin tips her chin up to look at him.
“Seven! Six! Five!”
He’s going to kiss her. Fuck. It feels like a gut punch, like everything is moving in slow motion as she smiles up at him.
“Four! Three!”
I’m next to them before I realize I’m moving, my hand on her arm, pushing Gavin away, eyes on her. She darts a glance at me, alarmed, trying to slip out of my grasp.
“Vin, this isn’t—“
I drag her away from Gavin, gripping her elbow, my mouth next to her ear so she can hear me over the crowd. “Whatever you’re about to say, I’m going to disagree. Then you’re going to argue, and when I argue back, you’ll either say ‘you might be right’ or you’ll keep fighting.”
I pull her behind the bar into a tight space between the back of the mirrored wall of bottles and the stone wall wrapped around the edge of the rooftop. The city twinkles behind her, the whole world getting ready to bring in the new year.
“Two!”
She tries to pull out of my grip, but I don’t let her. “I don’t want—“
“One!”
As the rooftop erupts into cheers, I crush my mouth onto hers, slamming her against the back side of the bar. I grip her jaw and force her to look at me. “You were going to let him kiss you.”
