I’m a dick. “Sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”
“It’s not that.” She settles her glass on the table and gives me a tight smile as Savannah looks up and meets her gaze. “I’m fine. Really.”
Savannah turns to Alec. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
My friend gives her his widest smile and slowly looks her over. “I wouldn’t dare. Want another drink if the server comes around?”
She beams as she climbs out of the booth. “Of course! Get my girl and me each another lemon drop martini.”
Brinley opens her mouth, and I think she’s going to object, but instead she says, “If you don’t mind.”
Savannah gives Alec an air kiss then slides her arm through Brinley’s as they walk toward the bathroom.
“So that’s Brinley Knox,” Alec says. He scans my face, and I know he’s looking for shock or panic or some shit. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I’m a fucking liar.
“You think she’s intentionally evading the question about her marital status, or . . .?”
Right. That. “I’m not sure.” But I intend to find out.
“Assuming she’s single . . . you two just gonna pick up where you left off?”
Since we “left off” with Brinley pushing me away, I hope not, but I shrug.
Alec grunts. “Tone it down, Mars. You’re way too vocal about your emotions.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I take a sip of my bourbon. Alec Hayes knows more about my life pre-college than anyone besides Aunt Lori, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to spill my guts right now. “I’m still trying to figure out if this is really happening.”
“It’s happening.” He pauses a beat, his gaze glued to the hall where the girls disappeared. “If you need me to keep the friend busy tonight, I can do that.”
“Real fucking selfless of you.”
Alec grins. “I’m giving like that.” That grin falls away as he studies me. “I see that brain of yours working overtime. Dial back the introspection and enjoy yourself.”
“That could be a recipe for disaster,” I mutter, but it doesn’t matter. Even if spending the night with Brinley is a terrible idea, I know I’ll take every second she’ll give me.
He takes a pull of his vodka tonic and sighs. “Consider it a gift—one night in Vegas with the love of your life.”
“You’re making a lot of assumptions there, Hayes.”
“I’m not assuming shit. You’d have to be blind to miss the way she looks at you. And you’ve told me more than once how you feel about her.”
“No, you’re assuming I’ll only get one night.”
Alec snorts. “I have complete confidence that you’ll get your night and turn it into whatever you want.” He pauses a beat. “Have you thought about this, though? She kind of fucked you up, dude. Do you really want to ask for seconds?”
My emotions are a mess of regret and longing and hope. I can barely remember the anger I felt those first few years after she pushed me away. I want Brinley. If there was any doubt about it in my mind before, it vanished the moment I laid eyes on her. “I want it all.”
I drain my drink. Bourbon isn’t meant to be guzzled like a cheap beer, but I’m wound so tight and I just want to enjoy this night—this chance. One more chance with Brinley. Alec is right. It’s a gift—one I never dared ask for.
Chapter Two
Marston
September 21st, before
“When you’re done scrubbing those pans, come find me in the dining room,” Aunt Lori says. “I’ll need your help to set up for tomorrow’s breakfast.”
I nod, not bothering to look at her. I’m half afraid she’s going to renege on her promise to pay me for tonight. Ten dollars an hour to help cook and wash dishes for some spoiled teenager’s fancy birthday party? It seems too good to be true. But even if she breaks her promise, it’s not like I had anything better to do with myself.
I moved to Orchid Valley a week ago. I’d been living on my own in Atlanta. It was fine at first—better than being stuck with my mom and her carousel of bad boyfriends. But then I didn’t make rent one month and was short again the next and found myself sleeping in the park. It was temporary. I just needed to save up enough for a room. Maybe I could have done it, but I didn’t have a place to wash my clothes, and I couldn’t use my car because I couldn’t afford gas, so I lost my job. Then a reckless, desperate idea turned into flashing red and blue lights and a breaking and entering charge.
It wasn’t Mom but Aunt Lori who got the lawyer to make the judge go easy on me. She turned Mom’s addiction issues into a massive sob story. I hate pity, but it worked. A couple of days later, per court orders, I moved sixty minutes north to Lori’s little place in Orchid Valley. And on Monday, per court orders, I’ll attend my senior year of high school here with a bunch of rich kids. Not that I’m complaining about that—I know Lori saved my ass—but if the party happening down the hall is any indication, Orchid Valley is crawling with entitled, preppy-ass teenagers.