41. Drew
DREW
Eating breakfast didn’t help.
Nor did the hot, then cold, shower.
Nothing gets Violet out of my head.
I’ve made a real damn mess of this.
I snatch up my phone and dial my brother.
“Hey Drew. What’s—”
“What are you and Ivy doing?”
There’s a pause.
“Now?”
“Yeah.”
I’m barely holding it together as I wait for his response.
“She’s writing. I was doing some work. Why?”
“Can you meet me at the bar for a drink?” The words rush out. “Just you. I… need to talk.”
“Sure. Right now?”
“Yes.” I jingle my keys, anxious to get going.
“See you in ten.”
We both hang up without saying another word.
I grab Luna and put her in the carrier.
“I’ll be back… soon.”
She meows at me, looking betrayed.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
I shut the door before the guilt wins.
After I talk to my brother, I’ll feel better.
Maybe.
I should go home.
Even though it seems like a clear, reasonable, and responsible thought, I ignore it.
Sebastian leans back in his chair, one arm draped over the booth like he owns the place.
“So... Violet, huh?” Sebastian says, watching me over the rim of his glass.
“Yeah.” My voice is quiet.
The bartender sets two shots on the bar. I grab one and throw it back, grimacing at the burn.
The warm burn feels... comforting.
I feel my brother’s gaze boring into my profile, but I don’t look at him.
“What was that?” I make a face at the shot glass.
“Whiskey. And you’re not used to drinking that.”
I chuckle. “Isn’t that the truth?”
“So...”
The tone of his voice alerts me that there’s trouble ahead. I know I’m not going to like whatever he says next.
“She spent the night with you, didn’t she?”
I blow out a long breath. “It’s not like that. We fell asleep watching a movie. She was there to help Luna adjust—"
“Oh my God.” He turns on the barstool, staring at me. “You fooled around with her, didn’t you?”
“I... um... well...”
He just stares at me with raised eyebrows.
Luckily, the bartender sets two more shots in front of us. I grab one, slamming it back. My eyes water, and I choke from the burn of the bitter liquid.
“There’s my answer.” Sebastian tosses his back with ease and sets the shot glass on the table with a quiet thunk. “That explains why you’re spiraling.”
“I’m not spiraling.”
I take a sip of the Coke sitting in front of me.
I am.
But I’m not telling him that.
Sebastian nudges me. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Nothing.”
Sebastian snorts. “That’s never true.”
I stare down at the condensation ring from my glass. My fingers tap the wood like they’ve got somewhere to be.
They don’t.
I can’t go home.
Not yet.
Violet might show up, and I haven’t decided if I want her to.
Yet if she’s not there, I know I’ll pace nonstop, peering out the window, wondering when she’ll pull in.
I made it worse by fooling around with the woman who may be my stalker.
And if she’s not... What if last night drove her away?
I’ve been married so long, I don’t know how this works anymore.
I don’t just want to hook up with Violet.
Shit.
The thought hit out of nowhere.
My fingers drum faster.
I enjoy spending time with her.
Miss her when she’s gone.
Think about her all the time.
Even dream about her.
But then she left... and didn't say a word about what happened.
Hell, she didn’t even kiss me.
Okay, okay.
Calm down.
Deep breaths.
My phone beeps, and I practically lunge for it.
I blink at the screen, disappointed.
“Is it Violet?” Sebastian asks.
I shake my head.
“No.” I hold out my phone. “My ex is getting married.”
Sebastian’s brows lift slightly.
“How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t care.”
The words are immediate. Automatic.
And true.
“But… she’s already moving on.” I huff out a laugh that doesn’t sound like one. “And I’m over here trying to figure out if I can ask someone to a movie without sounding like an idiot.”
“You’re getting worked up over asking Violet to the movies?”
I close my eyes for half a second. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Oh, you absolutely should have,” Sebastian says. “Start talking.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“You want to take her on a date. There’s lots to talk about.”
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s the truth. So yes, you should’ve.”
“I could be lying.”
He reaches over and brushes the sweat from my brow.
"The truth always makes you sweat. Especially when you don't want to admit it."
I grumble under my breath. “I’m not that sweaty.”
Sebastian doesn’t say anything.
He takes a drink of his Jack and Coke. “Just ask her.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
He shrugs. “It is. She either says yes... or no.”
“I don’t think I can handle rejection.”
Sebastian snorts. “Why would you? Violet’s obsessed with you.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “What?”
“She stalks you.”
Every inch of me locks up. “She doesn’t stalk—”
“She knows too much about you and your life,” he says, “Definitely a stalker.”
“She’s not a stalker,” I say defensively.
Sebastian smirks. “Then ask her to the movies.”
I fidget with my glass, saying nothing.
“You like her.”
Fear rolls through me, mixing with the shots. “Not in the way you’re insinuating.”
“Then why are you thinking about asking her to a movie like it’s a life-or-death situation?” Sebastian asks.
I open my mouth.
Close it.
Because I don’t have an answer that doesn’t sound ridiculous.
And I’m not ready to be honest with him.
“She’s…” I trail off.
Different.
Complicated.
Terrifying in a way I don’t understand.
“She’s... a lot,” I settle on.
Sebastian smirks. “You like that.”
“I don’t—”
“You do,” he says.
I rub my face. “That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?” Sebastian asks.
“The point is… I don’t know what this is with her.”
“At some point, you have to stop pretending something isn’t a big deal.”
I look up.
“And she feels like a big deal.”
The words hang there.
Too real.
Too honest.
Too late to take back.
Sebastian studies me.
Then leans back again, satisfied. “Yeah. You’re screwed.”
I shake my head, pushing my glass away. “I’m not screwed.”
“You’re thinking about her this much,” Sebastian says. “You’re already there.”
I don’t respond.
Because he’s not wrong.
The bartender returns, asking if we need anything else.
Sebastian slides off the stool. “I’m good.”
I blink. “You’re leaving?”
“Yup.”
“What? Why?”
Sebastian claps a hand on my shoulder. “Because you need to figure your shit out.”
“I am figuring it out.”
“Are you?” he asks.
I hesitate.
“…No.”
“Exactly.” He nods toward my drink. “Don’t do anything too stupid.”
“I won’t.”
He gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe me. “Need me to call you an Uber?”
I wave a hand. “I’m fine. I’m not drunk.”
Just pleasantly buzzed.
Very buzzed.
“Okay. Give me a call later.”
“Okay.”
And then he’s gone.
Suddenly, the bar stool feels too small.
The space beside me feels too quiet. Too empty.
I sit there for a minute.
Five minutes later, I'm ordering another shot.
I know it’s a bad idea, but I toss it down anyway because my brain won’t shut up.
Every thought keeps circling back to her.
Her smile.
The way she looks at me like she already knows something I don’t.
“She’s stalking me.”
I blink.
Did I just say that out loud?
The bartender glances over.
I wave him off. “I’m fine.”
I'm very obviously not fine.
I lean back in the chair.
“If she’s stalking me, there should be proof.”
I know what I have to do.