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“Can I get another one and…” He scans the menu and orders. “... that smokey bourbon drink.” I cough a little. Stop knowing me so well.

I watch as the work of art cocktail is created. “How are you?” I say, annoyed that my lips keep curling up at the corners.

“Still stunned.” He rubs his hand over his trimmed and perfect hair. His face has a hint of stubble, and his eyes are that baked sparkly sand color. But the green is punching through in places like sea glass.

“Me too.”

He sits back and crosses his arms over his chest. “Go ahead and do that adorable breathy thing you do to calm yourself down. I’m going to try and get it together as well.”

I smile. We’re both staring straight ahead for a minute or two with our drinks. He looks and smells so good. Like he’s no longer a mess. Maybe he’s just representing the brand, but he doesn’t seem broken. I wonder if I seem broken. I am. The sight or thought of him still rends me in half. I break our ice a bit further.

“Regardless of our devious friend, it’s nice to see you’re ok, and you look, ok,” I manage to say.

“Ok?” He crooks an eyebrow, and my stomach does that flippy thing.

“I’m having trouble with clever. Please take ‘ok’ as a compliment,” I say quietly.

“I’ve always liked making you lose your words.” His damn crooked smile smoothes out my rough spots.

“Watch it.” I raise my eyebrows. I’m not sure if he’s flirting or reminiscing.

He leans into the bar a bit angled towards me. His voice is strong and so close to me. “I’m not ok, despite appearances. I’m fucking not ok.” I grip my glass harder, shocked it’s not shattering. Then he says, “Am I allowed to comment on this outfit?”

“I’ll allow it.” I prepare for a compliment that will shatter me.

“You look incredibly gorgeous. Stunning, beautiful, and sexy beyond comparison. Beyond. But you didn’t do this for Mikey.”

I shift my gaze to him. This moment mocks my self-control, and I can’t stop myself from falling. It’s like the last three months don’t matter. As if nothing I said about being chosen first matters. None of it matters in the face of, well, his face.

He says, “I don’t have to a right to ask, but is this for someone?” I grin and let him squirm. He readjusts and fidgets with my cocktail stir. I may be wrecking myself further, but I’m not sure how I could feel worse.

I turn to him and stare at his impossibly gorgeous hazel eyes that are beaming with a green glow at me. “You don’t have the right to ask, but no. There’s no one else.”

65

Alex

My shoulders release the tension I’ve been holding since she left me. I’ve just remembered how to breathe. I’ll tell her about Charlotte to give her peace of mind. That’s been Mikey and Ari’s main problem with me. They remind me she’s walking around with half the story. The word coward has been bandied about quite a bit. But there’s no backtracking for me. I’m cooked. If I can’t make space for her, I won’t be able to do it for anyone. But I owe her this story.

I speak absently as I gear up, “Why are you in Chicago? Your schedule doesn’t have you anywhere until a week from Friday.” I catch myself as she lets loose with a small sexy smile. So not cool. Now she knows I watch her schedule. “Shit.”

We speak through the mirror. “I’m flattered you’re stalking me.”

“More of an avoidance...”

“Elaborate.” Her hand brushes by mine, and all my nerves spark. I forced myself to downplay the electricity of her touch. Not sexually, but, Christ, I’ve missed that. The air between us vibrates at a different frequency than the rest of life.

I clear my throat. “I couldn’t handle running into you. It’s driving everyone crazy. They have to avoid booking me on United, your preferred airline and make sure you’re not near me. Your calendar still lives at Extended Media, but for the opposite reason.”

A subtle sigh escapes her lips. “I check yours too. I can’t even go to our cities. The poor people of Tallahassee, St. Louis, DC, and Atlanta are currently Tessless.”

“I can’t fly through Dallas.” We look to finish our drinks.

“But I guess we know now. We won’t die if we see each other. And it takes three months to get to this point,” she says way too glibly.

I say pointedly, “Three months, one week, and six days.” I don’t care if she knows I’ve been counting.

“And fourteen hours.”