17. Drew #2
Violet’s soft voice draws my attention. “Everything here is perfect.” Her eyes bore into mine.
I swallow hard. Why is she looking at me that way?
I shift in the chair, my eyes meeting Sebastian’s. He’s practically gloating as he watches us. Even the way he puts the bite of steak in his mouth is smug.
Don’t let him get to you. He just wants Violet to be a stalker because he married one.
As if I’d make the same mistake.
Besides, Violet is nothing like Ivy.
I side-eye her, thinking about the coffee shop… and the grocery store. And those weird feelings I get, like I’m being watched.
I frown, doubt creeping through me.
She’s not stalking me.
…Right?
The conversation continues around me, flowing easily. While I sit at the table, spiraling, pretending to taste my steak.
Violet fits here. With us. Like she’s always been a part of our lives.
I catch Sebastian watching her at one point, his expression thoughtful. Assessing.
Ivy, on the other hand, is completely charmed. “So you and Drew saw each other after the bar, huh?” Her eyes move from Violet to me, a knowing smile on her face.
I freeze.
Violet doesn’t seem bothered. Not in the slightest.
“Actually, it’s pretty funny. We keep bumping into one another.” Her gaze moves to mine, then back to Ivy. “I guess fate has a funny way of putting people in your life.”
“That sounds accurate,” Sebastian mutters. His voice is low so only I can hear him, but it still sounds like a bomb detonating in my ears. “It also helps if you’re a stalker.”
I choke on my iced tea.
“Are you okay?” Violet asks.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I choke out.
I take a long drink, my face on fire. Sebastian’s eyes burn into me, but I ignore him.
Ivy laughs. “I really like you, Violet. You’re easy to talk to.”
“Thank you,” Violet says, and there’s something in her tone—something steady and grounded—that makes it sound like that matters more than it should. “I really like you too.”
Great. My brother’s stalker turned wife is bonding with my… What is Violet? A friend? Something more?
Everyone continues eating, talking, and laughing.
Meanwhile, my brain has left the building.
Unable to take any more, I make a mistake.
I touch her arm.
Mr. Pickles immediately swats my ankle.
I jerk back. “Ow! What the hell?”
Violet glances down calmly. “He’s protective.”
“He’s aggressive,” I correct, glaring at the traitor calmly sitting on the floor like he didn’t just assault me.
Mr. Pickles blinks slowly, completely unbothered. And unrepentant.
I rub my ankle, wincing slightly.
Sebastian loses it.
Ivy’s trying not to laugh and failing miserably. “Just when we thought the two of you were friends,” she manages.
“He’s demented,” I say dryly.
Mr. Pickles hisses at me.
“Now you pissed him off,” Sebastian adds.
“When don’t I?”
Violet reaches down, her fingers lightly brushing through the cat’s fur. He leans into it immediately.
“He just has good instincts,” she says.
I stare at her. “He made me lose a bet.”
“What bet?” Ivy asks, looking back and forth between us.
I shake my head, sitting back in my chair. This is ridiculous. The universe is conspiring against me.
“Oh, the horror of having to go to dinner with me,” Violet teases.
“Dinner?” Sebastian freezes with his glass halfway to his mouth. “He seldom leaves the house. And certainly not to go to a busy restaurant.”
“I leave here,” I say, defensively. “I just don’t like crowds… or most people.” I glare down at Mr. Pickles. “Or judgmental black cats.”
The cat hisses, then rubs against Violet’s ankles.
“Wow! You’re going to dinner with Violet?” Ivy’s eyes are wide. She bounces excitedly in her seat. “Your first date and I get to witness—”
“It’s not my first date,” I snap.
“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.”
“Never,” Ivy says over her shoulder with a smile.
And I just sit there, watching it all unfold, trying to understand how something that should feel strange… doesn’t.
Somehow, Violet didn’t just come to dinner.
She settled into my life.
And I let her.