night out.
I look over my shoulder at my friend. “Where have you been? I was beginning to think you got flushed down the toilet.”
She takes her arms off me and purses her lips. It’s a sign she’s gathering her courage to tell me something that I might not like hearing.
“Just say it,” I urge her.
Christy draws a deep breath. “My mom called. She and my stepfather are here in Chicago.”
“Really?”
“They’re in my apartment, actually. Well, waiting outside my apartment because my super is on vacation and his nephew must already be passed out drunk.”
Which means she has to go.
“Then go,” I tell her. “Don’t keep them waiting. It’s cold outside your apartment.”
She frowns. “But then you’ll be all alone…”
“I’ll be fine.”
“We haven’t seen each other in a while and I was really looking forward to catching up.”
“I think we already covered at least five years during dinner.”
“We were going to get drunk like the old days…”
“I can still get drunk.”
“You were supposed to stay at my apartment,” Christy says.
Right. I guess I can’t do that now.
“Well, I guess I’ll just stay at my own apartment. I have one here, remember?”
It’s mine and Joel’s, actually. After we sold our parents’ house, he insisted on buying one so that we’d still have a home in Chicago and a place for me to stay when I’m not traveling or crashing at his. I’ve never actually been to it—I’ve made a conscious effort to stay away from Chicago—but I have the keys.
Christy pouts. “I’m so sorry, Claire.”
“Hey, just go.” I pat her arm. “It’s not like I’m leaving town right away. I’m here a while, so we can still spend more time together, get drunk, go to the Pier, watch trashy movies, see who can try on more clothes in five minutes.”
Christy chuckles.
“I’ll be fine. Really. I’ll just have a drink and then leave.”
She still doesn’t budge.
“I promise I won’t do anything stupid,” I tell her. “Happy now?”
“Do you promise you’ll talk to that guy you were staring at?” she asks.
I narrow my eyes at her. “Isn’t that kind of stupid?”
“I think it’s kind of why you wanted to go to a bar,” Christy reminds me. “Plus, did I mention he’s hot?”
“Yes, you did.” I give her a shove. “Now, go.”
Finally, she walks off. I order a whiskey sour. As I sip it, I find myself glancing repeatedly at Ryker. He’s talking to another woman now. Tall with dark curls. And then he’s with his brothers. It’s nice to know they still get along so well.
With each sip, I try to summon enough courage to carry out Christy’s suggestion, but by the time I’ve finished two glasses—I know I told Christy I’d just have one drink, but I needed another—I still haven’t found any.
I’m just… terrified. What if Ryker doesn’t remember me? What if he says something mean and sends me away? What if he leaves because of me? He did disappear from the party that night.
I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want him to leave because of me, not when he’s having fun. Besides, he was here first.
I decide to leave. I pay for my drinks and head towards the exit. I’m almost at the door when I hear a voice.
“Claire.”
My heart stops. It’s Ryker. I know it is.
I draw a deep breath before turning around.
“Ryker.”
I give him a smile—just a small one so I don’t look too happy to see him even though my heart is on the verge of bursting out of my chest.
“You’re…”
Gorgeous? Perfect?
“Here. You’re here. In the flesh. In this bar that… I also happen to be in, although I didn’t notice you because I was at the bar and I had my back turned…”
Alright. I’ve said too much.
“What are you doing here?”
“Having some holiday fun with my brothers and their girlfriends—well, Ethan’s fiancée and Asher’s girlfriend.”
My eyes grow wide. “Asher has a girlfriend?”
Ryker nods. “Hard to believe, I know, but true.”
He glances over his shoulder.
“See that woman with the dark curls?”
“Yup.”
So that’s Asher’s girlfriend. And the pregnant woman must be Ethan’s fiancée.
“And you’re still single?” The question spills out of my mouth.
Ryker’s eyebrows arch. Shit.
“I mean… I don’t… I…”
God, I can’t believe I’ve turned into a babbling mess.
“Yes, I’m still single,” Ryker tells me.
Relief fills my chest, but only for a moment. Now what? What do I say? Do I say I’m single, too? And then what? Do I ask him if he wants to be my boyfriend?
“I’m… going,” I say.
When in doubt, do without. When