Page 57 of Common Grounds

“No what?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know.

“The last time we came here, it set this whole runaway train in motion. I’m not interested in revisiting that.” Not to mention that, if I run into her again, I still have no idea what to say after talking to Cass.

Mike rolls his eyes. “It’s a chill place. You liked it here last time. I picked it specifically for you.”

I give him a condescending smile. “It’s unlike you to be so thoughtful.”

He presses his hand to his chest and drops his jaw. “I’m offended. This is your night, man! We’re celebrating you. I wasn’t going to take you to some dance club or something.”

I raise an eyebrow. He absolutely would take me to a dance club even if it is my night, and he knows it. He’s done it before.

He grumbles something unintelligible, then tips his head back. “I really was trying to take you somewhere you’d like, but if you want to hit up somewhere else, it’s fine. I have ideas of other places we could go.”

Mike’s idea of a good time is loud and flashy, so I am positive I will not enjoy these other places at all. The Tipsy Geezer might be where I met Emery last time, but what are the odds she’s here again, in the middle of the week, no less? I don’t think karma is going to try to taunt me with the sight of her.

I let out a long exhale. “Fine. Let’s go in.”

Mike lets out a small whoop. He pushes his door open and jumps out before I have the chance to change my mind. I exit the car a little more slowly, trying not to grunt as I push myself up from the low seat.

When we get inside, we pause to look for a table. It’s not packed, though there are more people here than I’d expect for a Wednesday. Not that I’d know with my limited frame of reference. Mike starts to make his way to an empty table toward the back, but my eyes snag on a few people sitting at the bar. Namely, the blue-black hair glinting in the low pendant lights hanging above her, and a flash of a red blouse.

I close my eyes and open them, but I’m not imagining it. Emery is sitting at the bar, her profile visible as she leans her cheek on her palm. I must have pissed karma off more than I thought.

Violet is sitting next to her, chatting with the bartender. It seems weird that she wouldn’t be chatting with her friend, until I notice Emery’s body is tilted slightly away from Violet and toward a tall, dark-haired man with tortoise shell glasses standing next to her chair.

Oh, hell no.

Mike appears back at my side. “Hello? Where’d you go?”

I’m still staring at Emery, trying to decide if I want to interrupt her conversation with Marty McGlasses.

Who am I kidding? Of course I want to interrupt their conversation. I just don’t know if I should. Or how.

Mike chuckles darkly. I slowly slide my gaze to him.

He raises his hands, palms out. “I swear, I had no idea she’d be here. I mean, I hoped she would, for your sake, but I didn’t know.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I look back to where she’s sitting. She tips her head back and laughs at something McGlasses says to her. My stomach drops. I’ve never made her laugh like that. And now I desperately want to.

She reaches out and touches his arm, and that’s it. I’ve seen enough. Time to go. Except what if McGlasses makes a move she doesn’t like? I should stay. Just to be sure.

I turn on my heel and march straight to an empty table at the back of the bar. I slide into the shadowy booth where I can watch her, hopefully without her seeing me.

Mike slides across from me. “You’re not going to let that guy take her home, are you?”

The very thought of it has my hands clenching and unclenching beneath the table. “If she wants to, there’s not much I can do about it,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Bro, she doesn’t want to.” He nods in their direction. “Look at her. That smile is fake. And check out her friend. She keeps shaking her head like she can’t believe his douchebaggery.”

I watch them for a second, and sure enough, Violet rolls her head back as if McGlasses has exasperated her beyond whatever tolerance she had left.

“How did you see that from all the way over here?” I ask.

Mike flashes a roguish grin. “It will probably shock you to know that I am used to getting that exact look from women.”

I eye him sidelong. “It does not shock me in the least.”

He shrugs. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I could use a beer, and it seems the place is understaffed tonight.” He stares at me pointedly, his eyebrows raised as if he’s waiting for me to catch on. When I continue to frown at him, he takes some cash out of his pocket and leans in further, offering it to me. “Why don’t you go grab us a few drinks at the bar?”

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