“Well, how about that?” she muses. “Her name is Eloise, and I served her the best Manhattan she’s ever tasted.”
I know she wants me to smile, but I can’t.
Her eyes drop to the phone still in my hand. Will’s message is open, so she can read it.
“Oh shit, what’s going on?” she asks, waving to attract a server’s attention. “Could we get the check, please?”
“If Will is flipping out over something, it has to be bad,” I whisper in such a small voice that I’m not even sure she heard me.
Vesper begins frantically typing something on her phone.
“What are you doing?” I question.
“Calling a cab.”
“I can give you a ride home,” I tell her.
She laughs darkly, and instantly, whatever Will has to say doesn’t seem as drastic compared to the bullshit this girl is going through.
“That would be great, babe, if I actually had a home.”
“No,” I insist. “You can come back to my place.”
Vesper silently protests, but I set a hand over her phone screen, blocking her from calling a cab. “Take the offer to live with me for however long you need or at least until you can find a place of your own.”
When she pulls a deep breath into her lungs, I know accepting help isn’t easy for this girl, even if she knows it’s the sensible thing to do. Realistically, it’s her only decent option.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude on your personal space.”
I nod just as Eloise reemerges from the restroom. “I’m sure. Also, I own a Boston shaker, so you can whip me up one of your special cocktails to numb the impact of whatever shit is about to be laid on me in the next few minutes.”
34
. . .
Will
I’m around a hundred yards from the restaurant Drew told me she was meeting Vesper at when her call finally vibrates in my pocket.
“Baby … I’m at the Italian place. Are you still there?” I gasp down the phone and not because I basically ran from where I’d parked my car, but because I can’t fucking breathe regardless. Each time I inhale, it feels like razor blades are caught in my lungs, throat constricting with every swallow.
I don’t know how to tell her.
Because I sure as shit can’t show her the screenshots, which are now circulating all over the internet.
I’m about to ask again if she’s still at the restaurant when I grind to a halt in front of its huge glass window and find my girl standing, staring at me with watery eyes so big that they could be entire oceans.
With the phone to her ear, she looks straight through me, mouth open, but no words materializing.
Face-to-face, we stand on either side of the glass. Vesper is sitting at the table behind Drew and looking deeply worried for her friend.
“H-how did our private text messages get leaked onto the internet, Will?”
Her voice is broken, a little like how the glass separating us will be if I don’t get my arms around my girlfriend in the next second.
Truthfully, I’m not certain how messages got leaked, although I have a pretty fucking good idea who is responsible for throwing us under the bus.
“We need to get every post taken down. Every screenshot.” A tear escapes Drew’s lashes, trickling down her cheek. “Every reshare.”
