“Thanks.” I grab another bag, line up my throw. Miss completely. “Wow. Okay. Maybe that first one was a fluke.”
“You're doing great.” She touches my shoulder briefly—friendly, not pushy—and I have to resist the urge to look over and see if Darcy noticed.
Spoiler alert: I look anyway.
He’s talking to Cole by the grill, beer in hand, nodding at something Cole is saying. But his eyes flick our way for a second before he turns back to his conversation. His jaw is tight.
Good.
Wait, no. Not good. I don't want him to be bothered. That's not—fuck.
“Billie?” Amanda's voice pulls me back. “Your throw?”
“Right. Sorry.” I toss the bag. It goes wide. “I’m off my game today.”
“You sure it’s the game you're off?” Amanda asks with a knowing look I choose to ignore.
We finish the round, losing spectacularly, and Kennedy goes to grab us fresh drinks while I help Amanda collect the bags.
“So,” she starts, voice low. “She seems interested.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“But?”
“But nothing. She’s great. Neve was right to introduce us.” The words sound hollow even to me.
Amanda snorts. “Billie. Come on. It’s me. You can't bullshit a bullshitter.”
I sigh, looking down at the cornhole bags in my hands. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Mands.”
“How about the truth? Which is that you’ve had eyes on Darcy all evening like a woman dying of thirst watching someone else drink water.”
“I have not?—”
“Youabsolutelyhave. And he’s been doing the same thing. It’s honestly painful to watch.” She lowers her voice even more. “Why are you doing this to yourself? To both of you?”
“Because it’s complicated.”
“Life is complicated. So what?”
Before I can respond, Kennedy returns with our drinks. She hands me a fresh Caesar—extra spicy, because I mentioned earlier that’s how I like them—and I feel like the worst person in the world.
“Thanks.” I accept it with a smile that feels fake and probably looks worse.
More people have arrived now. The yard is full, music playing from the speakers Neve set up, laughter and conversations creating a comfortable buzz. Leo looks happy. That’s what matters. This is Leo’s day.
I can suffer through a few more hours.
Kennedy and I end up sitting on the deck steps, slightly removed from the main party. She’s telling me about a custom outdoor kitchen she’s building, hands moving animatedly as she describes the wood grain and joinery, and I’m trying—reallytrying—to pay attention.
“The client wants live edge, which I love, but finding the right slab has been a nightmare,” she explains. “I’ve been to every mill within a hundred kilometers.”
“Have you tried Morrison’s up in Mahone Bay?” I offer. “They sometimes have interesting stuff.”
Her face lights up. “I haven’t. That's a great idea. Thanks.”
“Sure.” I take a sip of my drink and glance over her shoulder. Darcy’s talking to some guys I don’t recognize, but even from here I can see the tension in his shoulders. He's gripping his beer bottle a little too tightly.
