and River and I follow suit.
“To dumbasses—men and landlords!”
And we drink.
19
Cooper
Caroline’s here.
I felt her the moment she walked in the door.
She didn’t notice me, but I noticed her. My eyes tracked her as she moved through the crowd and to the bar, River and Maya at her side.
My hand clenches around the drink I’m holding. Paul’s talking in my ear, but I don’t hear him.
She’s all I can see.
She must have stopped by the apartment before she came because this sure as hell isn’t what she was wearing this morning.
A new navy blue dress I haven’t seen before stops mid-thigh, hugging every inch of her body. There’s a slit cut up the side that gives the most delectable glimpse of her skin, and she’s wearing those fucking boots I still haven’t gotten to take off her.
I want to wrap a jacket around her and strip her bare all at once.
I have to fight with myself to not stalk over to her and demand her attention.
I need her to talk to me. To hear me out.
Need her to know I love her and I don’t want to go another minute without her.
I watch as she consoles Maya about something, then greets Shayla with a smile that lights up the fucking room even though I know she’s hurting as badly as I am.
Then, she turns.
And our eyes lock.
I stop breathing.
I’m sorry, I say with my eyes. I’m an idiot.
I know, hers say back.
Then she flips the blonde locks I love to feel between my fingers over her shoulder and shuts me out again.
I let out a staggered breath, nearly choking on the air.
“You good?” Paul asks.
“Not even fucking close, man.”
He follows my gaze. “Ah. Was wondering where she was tonight. You guys okay?”
I shrug. “I’m really not sure anymore.”
“Damn. You fuck it up that fast?”
I glare at him and he laughs, not scared at all.
“Caroline’s not the type of girl you let get away. She’ll haunt your ass for the rest of your days. You’ll turn into an old miserable fuck yelling at all the kids to get off your lawn.”
Don’t I fucking know it.
“All right!” The MC cuts through Paul’s words. “Let’s hear it for Henry, who never fails to woo us all with his rendition of Lady Gaga’s ‘Marry the Night.’”
The crowd cheers and whistles, clapping for Henry, a regular here at Lorde’s who always sings at least one Lady Gaga song.
“We’re going to take a short karaoke break, but we’ll be back soon with Joy, who promises to make us all swoon with their version of a popular love song.”
The MC switches off the mic and sets it on the empty stool, the house music blaring back to life.
“Anyway,” Paul continues, “whatever you did, you better apologize and make it grand.”
Make her listen.
Dean’s words echo in my mind.
I need to make her listen.
I need to make it grand.
I spring from my stool and push through the dancing crowd.
My feet don’t stop until I’m standing on the stage, microphone in hand, looking out at the wild sea of people.
The MC rushes me.
“Hey, dude. I know you’re probably excited to sing, but we’re taking a break and we have a waiting list we follow. You’ll need to wait your turn.”
He reaches for the microphone and I pull it back.
“Please. I just need it for a few minutes.”
“Sorry, no can do.”
“Please. I… Just please.”
He must see something in my eyes because he nods. “What do you need me to do?”
I whisper my plan into his ear, and he agrees.
“I’ll kill the music,” he says. “Good luck.”
The MC flips the music off and the crowd groans, complaining loudly, throwing daggers my way.
I don’t care about their attention.
I only want hers.
I flip the switch to on and the feedback screeches through the bar, drawing the eyes of just about every person in here.
“Shit. Fuck. Sorry.”
A few scattered laughs.
I hold the microphone down by my leg, taking a few steadying breaths.
“Shit or get off the pot, asshole!” someone yells.
I flip him off.
More laughs.
The entire bar is watching me raptly, wondering what I’m doing up here.
Make her listen.
I take one more deep breath, then lift the mic to my mouth.
“I’m an idiot.”
“We know!” another patron calls out.
I ignore them. “I’ve been lying to myself and everyone I know for a really long time.”
“Holy shit. Is he coming out to us?” another voice asks.
“Lord, I hope so,” a guy in the front answers, fanning himself.
“No dice. Sorry.”
I wink at him and he frowns. I chuckle, continuing.
“The lying