A wave of guilt rushes through me, but I try not to let it show.
“I’m thinking Seattle, if I ever decide to move,” Alex interjects. I glance up to find him looking directly at me. He holds my gaze for just a moment, then turns to the rest of the table and continues, “I read an article that said it’ll probably fare pretty well in the face of climate change. The Midwest is supposed to fare better, but… I mean, who wants to live in the Midwest?”
Everyone laughs at his joke, and they all move on as if my blunder never happened.
I struggle to focus on the conversation even when Ellie passionately regales us with a beat-by-beat synopsis of the novel his agency just acquired. Listening to Ellie talk about books is the one time I’m actually interested in them, his passion infectious.
But I can’t stop thinking about Cat’s empty wineglass.
I spend the rest of dinner anticipating—bracing for—an announcement that never comes.
“Stay for a drink,” Ellie pleads when I try to say bye as everyone heads to the backyard for post-dinner cocktails.
“I have to get home.” I shake my head. “Ruthie—”
“Ruthie can wait,” he assures me. “Just one drink.”
“One drink.”Lord knows I’ll need it. Forgoing a cocktail, I step away from the group, search for the bottle I brought, uncork it, and pour myself a glass—my second in as many hours and where I’ll cut myself off both so I can drive home and to prevent a hangover. The joy of my thirties—more than two drinks, and the pain will linger for a full day.
“Not driving, I assume?”
I turn to find Alex standing not two feet away from me, vape in hand. He blows sugary-sweet watermelon-scented vapor out of his mouth, keeping his eyes on me the entire time.
“You know what they say about assuming.” I finish my pour and take a long sip. I don’t like the judgment in his eyes, so I nod toward his vape pen. “I thought you quit.”
His eyes narrow at the comment, which spins my mind back to the last time I spoke those words to him. I force myself not to react, as if I don’t know what I just dredged up. He lets it go.
“It’s CBD. No nicotine in sight, Scout’s honor,” he says, and holds up three fingers.
I roll my eyes—I know damn well he was never a Boy Scout. I take a sip of my wine, which quickly turns into a gulp. Desperate to get awayfrom him, I turn to leave but stop at the sight of Ellie and Cat wrapped up in each other’s arms across the yard, laughing with another guest.
Hard to believe Alex could be the lesser of two evils, but here we are.
“Play your cards right, maybe they’ll name the baby after you,” Alex remarks.
My gaze snaps to his.
“What?” he asks. “Am I supposed to pretend not to know? She isn’t exactly subtle.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“You kind of like it.” His words are slow. Enunciated. Confident.
I decide that doesn’t warrant a response and take another gulp. Before I know it, my wine is finished.
What could one more hurt, really?
I reach for the bottle, but Alex grabs my wrist. I pull it away.
“Just looking out for you,” he murmurs, closer than he was a second ago.
Too close.
“Not your job,” I say and take a step back.
He lets out a resigned sigh. “I know you’ve never liked me—”
“I really don’t.”
