and the crush would hit me like a full moon, taking up a big chunk of my sky.
Right now, it’s taking over my whole sky.
Fuck. Why couldn’t I have realized what I felt for him sooner? I’ve known him since I was—what? Three? And why can’t I just forget about him? In spite of the way Ryker acted that night, he clearly lost interest in me afterward, since he never replied to my messages or liked any of my posts or called me even once. And yet I just can’t forget the look in his eyes before that stupid goblet broke and I cut my stupid finger, or ignore the fact that he hasn’t gotten married. According to Joel, he isn’t even seeing anyone. Why?
“Ooh. Hottie.” Christy puts her arms around me. “Though frankly, that older, buff guy with the brown hair is more my type.”
I glance at him. Like Ryker, I also recognize him at once. Asher. So he’s here, too. And Ethan. Maybe they’re having some kind of family gathering. Then again, I don’t see Mr. Hawthorne, so it must be just a boys’ 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