Page 49 of Best Served Cold

“You have a job?” I gasp.

He laughs, strumming his fingers against the side of the wooden bar as if it’s a guitar. “What did you think I did?”

“You’re in a band.” I point to the stage, where Rob’s friends are still setting up. I guess he’s shirking his duty, too, but I can’t bring myself to say anything. I don’t want him to walk away.

“Yeah, but we only do a couple of shows a week. What did you think I did with my time?”

I feel my cheeks flush as I think of all the comments Jonah had made about his derelict brother who spent all day eating corn chips and jerking off, living off their father’s largesse. It obviously wasn’t true.

Well, the jerking off part could be true…

The thought of Rob touching himself, of his head tipping back with pleasure, sends a fresh rush of blood to my cheeks.

Rob swears under his breath, then touches my hand across the counter. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. No one in my dad’s family is impressed by me. Travis—” He points to the guy I’d already identified thanks to my internet stalking. “Travis is my best friend. Has been for a long time. He’s the one who came up with the idea. We run this after-school music program for middle school and high school kids. It’s for kids who want to play music but not the traditional stuff like symphonies performed with woodwinds. We do string instruments. Drums. Rock mostly. But we’ve been swayed into some Taylor Swift covers by a few of the girls.”

“That’s awesome,” I say, so bowled over I can barely summon the words. He works with children. He wants to be a foster parent.

This isRob, the man who opened my heartfelt Christmas present and made ahuhsound. How is this possible?

“I…” My throat feels tight suddenly. “I wanted to open an after-school craft business for kids. Younger kids, like elementary school. I had almost everything ready, but it fell through. The permits first, and then the friend who wassupposed to run it with me dropped out, and then my great-aunt got sick.”

“I didn’t know that about you either,” he says, his eyes on mine. There’s something curious and warm in them, and I feel myself melting a little. There are tears pressing at my eyes, which is frankly horrifying.

“Jonah never said?”

“No, but we’re not exactly friends. Something like that would work in Asheville,” he adds, nodding confidently. “You can’t imagine how many requests we get from parents.” He pauses, taking me in. “You’d be good at that. Your relentless positivity would be a plus.”

My old dream tries to flicker to life inside of me, the image hazy. I attempt to shrug it off. “We’ll see. I’ve moved pretty far from that old dream.”

He glances down at his drink, his lips tipping up into a smile. Goodness. Has his smilealwayslooked like that? It’s like it was hand-sculpted by a higher power to make women want him. Surely I would have noticed before…

I focus on the tiny mole to the right of his right eyebrow. At least then I won’t be fantasizing about what would happen if I leaned forward across the bar and?—

“I don’t know about that, Soph. Seems to me you invented a whole drink menu just because you thought I could do better than a soda. Those kids don’t know what’s coming for them.”

“Thank you,” I say, trying to swallow down the neediness that I hate.

It’s just…I want to be the woman he sees when he looks at me. The one who wishes on stars and reaches for her dreams. I am, sometimes, but I’m so afraid of failure. Of being punished.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and he lifts his eyebrows playfully, making me smile. “You were telling me about your job and I hijacked the conversation. I’d like to hear more.”

“Sure, I’ll talk about myself if you insist,” he responds with a knowing look. He understands I’m being emotional, and also that I don’t like it. “The kid I wanted to help, he’s so damn talented. His current foster dad made him drop out of our program, though, and he’s not allowed to practice at home, because the sound supposedly gives his foster mom headaches. Emil needs music, Sophie. I know because I did when I was his age. I could give him that, if I get to be his foster dad. But I don’t think my application is going to be approved. Jonah had some lady call and tell them I’m an alcoholic and a sex addict, and now my caseworker thinks the only way they’ll approve me is if I’m in a serious relationship.”

My mouth falls open in horror. “He did that?”

“Look at what he did to you. He sucks. He’s always sucked. The only reason I have anything to do with him is my dad, but to be honest, I feel pretty done with that whole side of my family. I’ve been thinking about taking a step back from them for a while now.”

“I’m going to help you,” I insist.

“By calling them up and telling them that I’m only a sex addict sometimes?”

“Are you?” I ask, biting my lower lip as I’m assailed by some very inappropriate thoughts. I see him noticing. I see him appreciating, and a shocking wave of heat swells through me.

This is what I felt the night of my wedding to myself. An attraction to Rob. It feelsveryreal, but maybe it’s only transference. I thought I was in love with Jonah up until three weeks ago, and Rob looks a bit like Jonah—except ten times hotter, I hear Hannah say in my mind—so it’s natural I’d feel drawn to someone with a similar appearance. We’ve also been seeing each other a lot, and…

“Sorry,” I say, shaking off that train of thought. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

I trail off as I notice a victorious gleam in his eyes and realize I’m arcing toward him, across the bar.

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