“Practically. When’s the last time you went out? Before you met your ex in college?” Sebastian deadpans, staring at me.
“It hasn’t been that long,” I grumble, my cheeks heating.
It has. I’m just not admitting it.
I glance at Violet again. She’s not looking at me like I’m a loser.
I swallow hard.
She’s looking at me like I’m more. So much more.
I tug at the collar of my shirt, uncomfortable for the first time.
What if my brother’s right about her?
What if she’s?—
No. Absolutely not.
Lightning doesn’t strike twice.
Even as I try to push the doubts away, her odd comment echoes inside my head.“I’m not new. I’ve been here before.”
“I’m sure Drew will do fine at dinner.” Violet leans over and pats my hand.
The damn cat remains beside her, washing his paw, unbothered by her touching me.
Why isn’t he attacking her ankles?
Not that I really want him to. That would be embarrassing.
“Don’t worry. I know the perfect place.” She flashes me a reassuring smile, then turns to Ivy, who is already pulling her into conversation again.
I stab my steak, spiraling.
That’s what worries me. I don’t like new places.
I glance over at Violet. She’s animatedly talking to Ivy like they’ve always been friends.
And I realize Violet’s already chosen the restaurant.
One I’ll probably like because somehow, she already knows me.
I glance at my brother. He’s watching his wife interact with her, a soft, proud smile on his face. Like he’s happy she’s made a friend.
Mr. Pickles still hasn’t moved from Violet’s side.
“Dessert?” Ivy asks brightly, already halfway out of her chair.
“There’s more?” I ask.
“There’s always more.”
Violet smiles slightly. “I like that about you.”
Ivy beams.
Sebastian groans softly. “You’re going to make me fat.”
