The Best of Winter Renshaw - An 8 Book Collection - Winter Renshaw Page 0,281

she lunges for the door, stopping on her way out to turn back.

“If you only knew the things I’ve done to protect this family … you wouldn’t be so quick to judge,” she says. “In fact, you’d be thanking me”

With that, she slams the door behind her.

I wait a few minutes, ensuring that we won’t cross paths in the lobby, and then I collect my keys, phone, and jacket, text my driver, and head to the lobby to wait.

I order him to drop me off at my usual place, so I can meet a former colleague for a drink, and I spend the fifteen-minute drive attempting to wrap my head around the fact that Larissa had a child—and that she left it to me.

Never in my life have I so much as entertained the idea of having a child.

They’re sticky. Messy. Loud.

They smell.

They steal your sleep and commandeer your weekends with zoo trips and soccer practice.

Honestly, the thought of being a father figure sends a wave of nausea to my middle.

I could never raise a child—let alone someone else’s child.

The cab drops me off in front of Ophelia’s, and I head in for a double vodka on the rocks to clear my head.

Even in death, I’m cleaning up Larissa’s messes.

Eleven

Astaire

* * *

“What are we drinking tonight?” asks the female bartender, who is the opposite of Eduardo from the way she greets me with a bubbly smile to the way she half sings along with the Greta Van Fleet song playing in the background.

I like her already.

I don’t know what compels me to set foot in Ophelia’s just three nights after my incident with the world’s cruelest stranger, but here I am, sitting in the exact same chair at the exact same bar, trying to convince myself that fate wouldn’t be so mean as to force us to cross paths twice in one week.

Plus, I needed to get out of my apartment.

It’s been hours since I sent that second email and Bennett has yet to respond. Either he didn’t see it—or he did see it, laughed, deleted it, blocked my email, and went on with his life.

Either way, it’s all the same.

“Surprise me.” I wink.

Her eyes light. “All right. I can surprise you. But first, answer this one question: if you could travel to any city in the entire world right now, where would you go?”

“Easy. Paris.” That’s where Trevor and I were going to honeymoon. We’d been saving like crazy in the year leading up to his death, and the week before he died we were one paycheck from buying the tickets and reserving a hotel room with an Eiffel Tower view.

I can’t count how many times we’d watched An American in Paris and then stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, making plans, getting ourselves geared up for our big trip.

The bartender winks back at me before turning around and grabbing various bottles and turning into a liquor-licensed mad scientist. A minute later, she presents me with a pale yellow cocktail in a crystal champagne flute.

“For you,” she says. “A Soixante Quinze, otherwise known as a French 75.”

I take a sip without asking what’s in it—I wanted to be surprised after all. The taste of lemon, champagne, sugar, and gin dance on my tongue.

“Good, right?” She wipes a damp spot in front of me with her towel.

“Amazing.” I take a generous swill and she struts away, peacock-proud, to help another customer.

From my periphery, I take in my surroundings. The place is busier tonight than it was Thursday, naturally.

Couples kissing.

Holding hands.

Groups clinking glasses.

Laughter.

So much laughter.

Trevor and I moved here two years ago, having both landed jobs in the Worthington school district. When we weren’t working that first year, we were in full wedding-planning mode—which unfortunately left minimal time for socializing and making friends in our new town. All of our college friends are back in Indiana, and I don’t see them nearly as much as I’d like.

They came around shortly after he died, taking turns spending weekends with me, picking up my shattered remains and trying to piece me back together with distractions and attempts at good times. But after a while, they all went back to their own lives.

I had to do the same.

It’s funny, when you’re younger, you think your friendships are everlasting, you think you’ll always be there for each other, that nothing will ever change no matter what. And day to day, nothing changes. But then one day you wake up and realize priorities