I can’t help it. I let out a laugh. Beau’s face softens for a second, and even he cracks a smile.
“Jesus Christ, Jake,” I mutter, rubbing my hand over my face. “You’re a fucking disaster.”
Jake just shrugs, completely oblivious to the tension he just sliced through. “What? It’s not like I’m wrong.”
“Alright, alright,” I say, slapping the table. “Enough of the life coaching. My ego can only take so much.”
We fall back into the easy rhythm of bullshit and banter, but Beau’s words keep circling in my head like vultures.You’re not a kid anymore.I know he’s right. I’ve known it for a long time.
After a few more rounds, the conversation shifts to old stories that get more outlandish with each retelling. I’m only half listening, nodding at the right moments, laughing when I’m supposed to. But my mind keeps drifting back to Violet.
“Earth to Rowan,” Jake says, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “You in there, man?”
I blink, forcing myself back to the present. “Yeah, sorry. What?”
“I said, you planning on sticking around this time?” He’s slurring his words a little, but his eyes are sharp.
I pause, my fingers tightening around the neck of my bottle. “Yeah,” I say, more sure than I feel. “Yeah, I’m sticking around.”
five
. . .
Violet
Idrove myself to dinner tonight because I didn’t want to have to sit in a car with Travis after I broke things off. Now my hands are shaking as I sit across from him at the quiet corner table of Vincenzo’s, the new Italian place he’d been eager to try. The lighting is warm and intimate, casting a golden glow across the white tablecloth. Classical music plays softly in the background. It’s the perfect romantic setting, which makes what I’m about to do even worse.
Travis smiles at me over his glass of wine, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. He looks good tonight—clean-cut in his light blue button-down, his sandy hair neatly combed. He’s handsome in an approachable way.
“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he says, reaching across the table to take my hand. His palm is cool against my skin. “Everything okay at work?”
I stare at our linked fingers, the sight making my stomach twist with guilt. “Work’s fine,” I manage, pulling my hand away under the pretense of reaching for my water glass. “I need to tell you something, though.”
His smile falters as he studies my face. “What’s wrong?”
My mouth opens. Nothing comes out.
The words are right there, crowded at the back of my throat, but they refuse to form into anything usable. I swallow and force myself to look up at him.
Travis is watching me closely now.
“I just…” I start, then stop. My fingers curl around the stem of my water glass, the condensation chilling me. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”
“About what?”
About how this feels wrong.
Instead, I let out a small, unconvincing laugh. “You know. Life. Stuff.”
He relaxes back into his chair. “Well, yeah,” he says. “That’s normal.”
Our server appears beside our table then, asking if we’re ready to order. Travis turns to her, scanning the menu, already moving us forward.
I nod along when he suggests some house pasta, smile when he asks if that sounds good—but for a split second, I wonder what would happen if I didn’t. What if I said no? Would he frown? Roll his eyes?
I tuck the thought away, ensure my smile stays in place, and say, “Sure, that sounds great.”
By the time the server walks away, whatever courage I had dissolves.
