Page 45 of Saddle and Bound

"Okay," I finally accept. "I'll be there."

Chris smiles. "Great! See you later then. And Alex... whatever's worrying you, it'll be alright. You'll see."

As I watch him walk away, I feel a mix of gratitude and frustration. My friends are there for me, I know. But how can I explain to them something I don't even fully understand myself?

I return to work, trying not to think about Rosie, the mysterious guy, or what I feel. For now, I focus on the present. On the wood under my hands, on the sun on my skin, on the work to be done.

The rest... well, the rest will have to wait. I'm not ready to face it. Not yet.

?

The bar is crowded and noisy when we arrive. Chris, Diego, and Fran practically drag me inside, determined to cheer me up. I don't have the heart to tell them that the last thing I want right now is to socialize.

"Hey, look who's here!" exclaims Diego, pointing to a table in the corner.

My stomach tightens when I see Rosie sitting there, surrounded by a group of girls. And next to her, with an arm casually draped over the back of her chair, is him. Mr. Perfect. With his perfectly styled hair—a long wave swept back, held in place by enough hair products to rival a model’s—clean-shaven face, white t-shirt, blue blazer, and matching trousers. White sneakers. Who the hell even dresses like that? His city-slicker vibe is obvious even from the neighboring ranch. And, of course, there’s his million-dollar watch, shamelessly displayed on the arm draped over Rosie’s shoulders.

Of course.

They really do make a perfect pair.

What was I even thinking? Did I seriously believe I had a chance? Clearly, Rosie wasn’t flirting with me.

"Let's go say hello," suggests Fran, already heading towards their table.

I want to protest, but I know it would look suspicious. So, with a heavy heart, I follow them.

"Hey guys!" Rosie greets us with a radiant smile. Her eyes meet mine for an instant, and I think I see a flash of... something. Concern? Guilt? But it passes so quickly that I might have imagined it.

"Let me introduce you to my best friend, Ethan," she says, gesturing to the guy beside her. "He came to visit me from Los Angeles."

Best friend.

The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. I don't know whether to feel relieved or even more confused.

Ethan stands up, extending his hand. "Nice to meet you, guys! Rosie has told me a lot about you."

I shake his hand, trying not to appear too hostile. But I can't welcome him as warmly as the others do.

We spend the next few minutes in forced conversation. Ethan recounts anecdotes from Rosie's life in Los Angeles, and she laughs, adding details and playfully correcting him. They seem so at ease together, so... right.

I can't stand it.

It's obvious that he doesn't want to be just her best friend... Rosie is so perfect, who wouldn't want to have more?

Besides, he's gone to the trouble of following her overseas... just because he's her best friend?

Tell that to someone who believes it.

With the excuse of getting a drink, I move away from the table.

At the bar, I order a double whiskey, hoping the alcohol might dull the ache in my chest.

"Heartache?"

I turn to see the bartender, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, looking at me with understanding.

I sigh. "Is it that obvious?"

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