He angles forward and sets his drink on the table between us. “You’re not a fool. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and a whole hell of a lot of therapy. It was not my fault or yours. Sure, it’s a little weird that we’ve slept with the same person, I’ll give you that, but it’s not like you and I haven’t…”
My face heats, and not because of the whiskey.
“Listen,” he continues. “We can’t change any of that, and I’mwilling to get past this whole Samantha thing if you are.” His deep brown eyes penetrate mine.
What are the odds that in a city of over eight million people, the two of us have shared the same woman?
“Did you get tested?” I blurt.
He barks out a laugh. Probably at my word vomit. “Of course. You?”
I nod.
Another round of silence passes between us.
“You walked out on me, though,” I say, picking at a loose thread, gaze averted. “That night. At the party. You left me there after Sam dropped the bomb.”
“Fuck.”
The single word, spoken with so much pain, snags my attention.
He dips his chin to his chest. “I know. I was in utter disbelief, and I’m not proud of the way I handled the situation.” His eyes find mine. “I’m so sorry.”
He pissed me off that night, abandoning me the way he did. But I was shocked, too, so I guess I can understand.
“So, about that crazy idea of yours…”
“Right.” He scoots to the edge of the couch. “I realize it’s a huge ask. But I can’t show up at my dad’s doorstep single. I just—I just can’t.”
My stomach twists at the emotion in his voice. My parents are practically perfect, the spitting image of support, so I can’t imagine what it must feel like to grow up with a parent like Ezra’s dad.
“All my life, he’s told me I’m just like him. He acts like bachelorhood is some sort of club that gives men permission to be assholes. And I’m fucking sick of it. I don’t expect you to understand, but I need this.” He gazes down, like the words he’s searching for are written on the floor beneath his feet, andeventually homes in on me again. “Has Cam ever mentioned my depression?”
Lips pressed in a straight line, I shake my head.
He clears his throat. “It’s under control, and I’m on medication, but…”
My heart pinches inside my chest at his pained expression.
“That’s why I never contacted you afterthat night. I was in a really dark…” He shakes his head. “For a long time, I wasn’t myself. My breakup with Samantha brought up a lot of childhood trauma and other shit.” He straightens again and picks up his glass. “The truth is, I worry that if I go to Hawaii, spending time with my dad will trigger my depression. If I show up alone and am forced to hear him compare us over and over, I’m afraid I’ll eventually believe it.”
Emotion clogging my throat, I croak, “Ezra…”
He holds up a hand, but there’s nothing rude about it.
“Again, I don’t expect you to understand, and I realize this is a huge ask, but?—”
“Fine.”
His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. “What?”
“I’ll do it.” I shrug, feigning nonchalance, despite the apprehension coursing through me. “How hard can it be? I am an actress, after all.” I flip my hair over my shoulder for dramatic effect.
Across from me, he cracks a grin that makes my heart thump against my breastbone.
It feels good to make him smile. I may not always know the right things to say during intense moments like this one, but I’m pretty damn good at making people smile, so I focus on that for the time being.
8
