Lonely, stagnant.“Great!” I use all my energy to smile. “Great.”
He laughs and stares at me, like he’s waiting for more. I run my hands through my hair. For all he knows, I could be a party animal. “Just having fun celebrating Pen.”
Grant nods and licks his lips. “I’m glad.”
“Ruby, Calliope is a bit drunk—” Eitan steps to my side and pauses when he looks between Grant and I. “Don’t think I’ve metyou yet.” Eitan squares up to Grant. I preen when I see Grant puffing up his shoulders, a solid six inches shorter than Eitan.
“I’m Grant.” He reaches out to shake Eitan’s hand. “I work a lot, so it’s hard for me to get out.” Grant looks over his shoulder. “And this is…”
My stomach drops. Plunges, really. Off a cliff.
“My girlfriend.” Right on cue—like she rehearsed it—his coworker, Felicity, appears. The only reason I know her is because we met when Grant and I were dating. She’s shrugging off her own jacket, revealing a babydoll top and a pair of wonderfully perky, 100% organic boobs. “Here, babe, let me introduce you.” He never once called me babe; how pedestrian he’s become. “This is Felicity,” Grant announces, with a hand on her back.
She waves to Eitan and I. “We’ve met,” I say through a strained smile. “Ruby.”
“Ohhhh,” Felicity exaggerates. “Yes, you were with—” Her eyes dart to Grant. “I met you at the holiday party a while ago, right?”
“Right.” My dentist will be having words with me over how hard I’m grinding my teeth.
Grant crosses his arms. “How do you know Ruby?” he asks Eitan.
“We’re friends,” Eitan says coolly.
I restrain myself from correcting him toacquaintances.
Grant narrows his eyes between us. “Right…Well, it was nice to see you. I’m glad you’re doing well,” he says slowly, carefully. My heart sinks. He knows. He knows I’ve been doing decidedlyunwellsince our breakup, and he’s tip-toeing around the subject, like I’m a nuclear bomb in danger of detonating.
“Mhmm.” I blink to clear away the emotion. “Doing amazing. Never better.” I look around and see Felicity has alreadymeandered to the bar and is leaning halfway over it, whispering her order in the bartender’s ear. I curse how good her ass looks.
“Right.” Grant gives me a small smile before pulling me in for another tight hug. Not the kind of hug I would want my boyfriend giving his ex-girlfriend, if you know what I mean. After Grant peels off me, I feel desperately in need of a shower. Eitan watches Grant, disapproving. At least I’m not the only one who thought that hug was a bit much. Grant nods at Eitan and makes his way toward Felicity the Fair.
Once he’s out of earshot, all the hot air I’d been propping myself up with deflates. I’ve been wrung out, thrown on the floor to dry. And the worst part is that Eitan got to bear witness to how horrific that interaction was.
“You alright?” Eitan asks.
“I’m fine,” I growl. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
Eitan’s face falls into something that looks suspiciously like concern. “You shouldn’t let that guy see you sweat,” he says.
I laugh, humorless and insane. “It’s not about him! I don’t care about him at all. It’s just because I haven’t seen him since—” I stop myself.
“Since what?” Eitan asks, brows knitting.
It’s overwhelming; something is ballooning in my chest, and crushing me at the same time. I need to release it. “Since my life turned to shit!” I say in a moment of unadulterated ire. Eitan’s presence has this way of completely destroying my filter. I hate feeling so exposed. Like this attractive stranger can see I’m obviously floundering.
“Why did you turn down that shot?” I ask him, lips pursed.
He shrugs. “I don’t drink.”
“Ihad to stop drinking because I got cancer at twenty-eight. And now I need to eat every vegetable in sight in the hopes that it keeps the cancer from coming back.”
“I have colon cancer in my family,” he says, like this is some consolation. “I know what?—”
“It’s a little different,” I sneer. There’s a heat-seeking missile preparing to launch, and Eitan is the closest target. “One of us has to live with the abstract fear of cancer, and one of us has a body that’s already betrayed them. I’ll let you guess which is which.” Eitan’s expression is hard and unreadable. “Do you only drink filtered water? Throw out every scented candle and perfume you own? Wonder if every cough, every back pain could be your cancer, coming back?” My voice frays. “See? Life. Turned. To. Shit,” I hiss, my anger a staccato heartbeat. The corners of my eyes are leaking, and I catch the tears on the edge of my hand in time.
Eitan’s brows push together, either in anger or pity, neither of which I can stand right now.
“I’m sorry. Just forget I said anything.” I wipe my eyes again. “I’m just—not feeling well. Can you tell Penelope I said bye?”
