She’s put on a touch of makeup. Just some gloss that shines on lips I still vividly remember the feel of.
The maroon party dress she’s wearing is hardly revealing, stopping mid-thigh and featuring a scoop neckline, but it still looks so fucking sexy on her.
The fact that my stray put on a dress at all when she normally hates formal occasions automatically makes it special.
It makes my pulse pound even harder.
As if sensing my gaze on her, she suddenly looks up. Our eyes lock over the short distance, the crowd of people in between us turning invisible.
We can only see each other as we stare for a second, then she offers her signature shy smile.
Go talk to her, you fucking idiot.
I force a breath through my lungs, take a swig of my beer, and push myself forward.
It’s a good sign that she doesn’t run away as I approach. She stays put and watches me, a glint flashing in her dark eyes.
“Hey,” I say huskily.
Fucking genius, you asshat. Got anything better?
“Hey,” she echoes, voice soft.
We stare at each other for a second, like this is our first day on planet earth and we don’t know how to human. I try again.
“You look good,” I say. “Really good.”
“Thanks. You do too.”
“Thanks. You look go—” I start again, then cut myself off with a scowl. “I mean shit. Sorry, my mouth and brain aren’t cooperating right now. This is… fucking awkward.”
She laughs, her whole face lighting up like old times. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it? I’m glad it’s not just me.”
“You want to take a walk?” I nod toward the garden beyond the terrace. “Might help take the edge off.”
“Sure. I’d like that.”
We fall into step together as we leave the terrace behind and make our way along the winding path that leads toward the Callahan estate’s garden.
It’s quieter over here, the noise of the party fading to a distant murmur and the moonlight casting long shadows across the chipped marble statues that dot the landscape.
“So,” I say after a stretch of silence. “How’ve you been?”
“Pretty okay,” Jhene answers, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Actually… better than okay. I’m taking classes at the local community college. Math, mostly. And I’m seeing a therapist, which has been... helpful.”
“That’s good. You always were too smart to be working at an Irish pub.”
She snorts. “I’ll admit the Banshee wasn’t exactly my dream job. Then again, pretty sure I wasn’t the dream waitress.”
“You happened to be my favorite.”
“You’re totally not biased or anything,” she says, shooting me a sideways glance. “But Idoremember that first night—you hated that I was on your table.”
“What can I say?” I ask in return. “I can be slow at times.”
“To be fair—and as you so often pointed out—I wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine.”
“That’s a mild way to put it.”
