Chapter 5 #2
“Hmm, interesting,” I say, and Thea shoots me a warning look, which I promptly ignore. “Seems like all that responsibility would leave little time for fun or dating, no?” I slap on the most innocent face I can fake and watch him expectantly.
My question has clearly made him uncomfortable, his jaw clenches, and the hand holding his glass tightens. Internally, I squeal with joy at getting any sort of reaction out of him.
“Oh, I’m sorry, that was presumptuous of me. Are you dating someone?” I ask, forgetting I’m twenty-nine years old and not a child.
“Ripley,” Thea scolds, but there’s no bite behind it since she’s fighting a smile. I raise my hands as a sign I’m backing off.
“No,” grinds out Seth, eyes narrowed on me. “I’m not seeing anyone right now.”
“What happened to the girl you were texting nonstop this past weekend?” asks Cary, and Seth’s head whips to him.
“What? Wh-What do you mean?” Seth sputters, his face draining of color.
“I wasn’t snooping,” Cary says with a chuckle. “You left your phone on the counter when you were showering. It kept going off, so I wanted to put it on silent. I caught sight of some flirty texts from E. She seemed nice—a little forward—but nice.”
I almost spit out my drink, and Seth looks like he wishes he could cease to exist. Thea practically turns herself fully away from Cary as she hides her laughter.
“Sorry, I promise I wasn’t prying, and I didn’t look very closely,” Cary continues, oblivious to us. “But she was funny. I’m guessing it wasn’t serious since you never mentioned her?”
I preen at the compliment. Besides bourbon, humor might be the only thing I have to offer.
Seth glances at me before replying, “No, it wasn’t serious. And it’s… very over.” My good mood vanishes. Popping like a bubble. I didn’t realize hearing him say it so plainly would sting as much as it does after all this time.
Thea thankfully picks up on my now sour mood and shifts the conversation. I tune out for the next hour, focusing on drinking and picking at the food on my plate instead. I stare out over the dark water off the patio, Seth’s words tumbling around my mind.
“...and Seth was able to get them on board. I don’t think we could have gotten the deal done without him,” Cary tells Thea.
Oh my God, shut up, Cary. He’s been going on and on about Seth’s accomplishments like a proud dad. Gag.
“So, Seth, how’s Iris?” I interject. Thea’s face falls. I know it’s a low blow—targeted toward an unwitting Cary—but I also know the topic isn’t nearly as sore of a subject as it once was. I feel bad as soon as I say it though; Thea doesn’t deserve to be collateral in my mess.
Seth’s eyes cut to her also, hesitant concern etched on his features. “She’s good,” he says diplomatically. “I’ve actually asked her to fill in for me while I’m here.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that. Good for her. She’s wanted out of distribution for a while; maybe this will give her a taste of something different,” says Cary.
Thea shifts around in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with her fiancé’s knowledge of his ex’s hopes and dreams. I kick myself for bringing up the topic. I’m such an asshole.
To help salvage the situation, I turn to Thea and ask, “So, what’s the latest from the architect on the B&B?
” Cary has emphasized time and again how Seth may be instrumental in putting her plan into motion, since he has the business mind and experience to help navigate whatever hurdles they may face.
I want to give Thea the spotlight to discuss her creativity and vision for the business she’s building.
She shoots a grateful smile my way and goes on to explain the designs they received yesterday. I settle back in my chair knowing we’re all in for a long Thea ramble. At least it’s not anxiety-driven this time.
Dinner drags on, and it’s creeping closer to nine-thirty now. Seth’s been glancing at his watch periodically for the last hour. Cary has clocked it one too many times and is visibly getting annoyed. Clearly, he’s thinking Seth is bored with what Thea’s saying and being rude.
In reality, it’s past his bedtime. Having known him this long, I know his schedule by heart based on our daily routine of video calls and texting.
If the man is not in bed by nine-thirty, his four-thirty wake-up suffers, and then his morning run needs to be cut short, making him cranky for the rest of the day.
“Have somewhere to be?” Cary asks Seth. Seth’s head jerks up from his wrist, and his face pinkens.
Without thinking, I say, “Yeah, it’s bedtime. He needs to be up for his 5 a.m. run.” I pause with my glass half-way to my mouth, realizing my slip up. Cary’s staring at me, his brows furrowed and mouth open ready with a follow up. “Uh, I mean,” I stammer. “You told me he runs, right, Cary?”
“Yeah, I guess?” he replies, still confused.
Suddenly, Seth shoots up from his chair, gaze pinging around the table.
“Ripley. Why don’t you give me a quick tour of the distillery while we wait for dessert?” he says, grabbing my bicep and pulling me to stand with him.
His touch is searing, and I’m convinced I’ll have a hand-shaped burn when he lets go. “Uh, sure,” I mumble, trying to extract myself from his grip to no avail.
He walks me out of the busy restaurant and into the dim distillery. I finally pull my arm free and round on him, using all six of the inches in our height difference to look down on him. “What the fuck, West?”