“You’re already expecting me to let you down.”
That wasn’t true! It was the other way around. She expected him to realize he could do much better than her.
Her throat constricted. “No. I just…”
“You justwhat, Becs? You think I’m already having second thoughts.”
“I…” She wanted to deny it, but they both knew it would be a lie, so Becs opted for honesty. “Yes. Fine. You’re right. I think you regret that kiss, and though I’ve been telling myself it was amazing and pretending you felt the same, I know better than that. I—”
“Becs, stop.”
She clasped her lips together, her hand tightening on the phone. She didn’t want to cry, but she felt the urge. It took remarkable strength to hold back the tears, but somehow she managed.
Evan sighed. “You’re right. It was amazing, and up until about ten seconds ago, I was feeling the same. However, I don’t think now is the right time for…”
He left the sentence hanging, and her brain filled it in with a dozen different things. Fortunately, she kept them all to herself.
“I get it,” she said.
Becs was familiar with rejection. Too familiar, really.
The silence lingered long enough to stifle the air around her.
Finally, Evan said, “I’ll let you go. Carly’s doing fine.”
“Wait,” Becs said before he could hang up.
“What?”
“What … um … what did you need to tell me?”
“Oh. Right.” Evan exhaled heavily. “I’ll be there tomorrow. In New York. Brantley called me tonight and told me he needs me there. Kaye’s fine watching the girls.”
Becs’s heart slowed, and she was sure she had forgotten to breathe. Evan was coming to New York. He would be there with her.
And she’d just screwed it all up by being her normal, pessimistic self.
Lovely.
***
As Atticus walked into the hotel room, he was ready to land face-down in his bed.
The night had been a bust. He’d managed to talk to every employee at the club—at least everyone he’d seen—and no one had recognized Decker’s photo. The same couldn’t be said for Saoirse. They all recognized her, but the problem with flashing pictures of famous people was that no one recalled where they’d seen her. More than likely, it had been on their Instagram or TikTok feed rather than serving her drinks personally.
But Atticus had done his due diligence because that was his job. And while he traipsed through the club on the hunt for employees, Slade had spent the majority of his evening drooling over Becs while Becs did her best to blend in with the crowd. It had become apparent about ten minutes in that she wasn’t comfortable in the place, but she was a relatively good actress. Probably would’ve been better if Slade’s eyes hadn’t been burning holes through her the entire night.
Like he said, the entire night was a bust.
Not even the limited information Brantley and Reese had collected would make up for it. They had nothing more to go on than when they went in. Only more questions.
Fortunately, it was time to crash, and it was still early enough Atticus could catch a decent nap before the day started again.Unfortunately, the hotel room wasn’t the kind that had two queen beds in a single room. This one had a separate bedroom space, and the couch folded out into a bed. Atticus had offered to take the couch when they first arrived. It had been his attempt to apologize to Slade for what went down at Moonshiners last night. Slade’s response had been a grunt, which Atticus took as confirmation.
“You need in the bathroom?” Slade asked.
Yeah, this room wasn’t meant to be occupied by co-workers. The bathroom was in the bedroom, which meant Atticus would have to go into Slade’s room if he needed to use it.
“Nah,” he said, figuring he would go down to the bathroom in the lobby if he needed to go before Slade was up.
