Page 31 of At First Smile
“I like your bicoastal besties.”
“I think they’d like you.” I squeeze his corded forearm. “It’s all good, though. He’s tapered off. Outside the random run-ins at the hospital, I don’t see him. I got a new phone and changed my number to be on the safe side. Our department’s secretary has designated himself as guard dog to keep him away.”
“I know men like Alex, all snake charmers. They flash their golden boy good looks and open smiles and take advantage of the vulnerable.”
Vulnerable?I shift in my seat, crossing my legs. I know it’s why Alex chose me. The statistics don’t lie. Womenwith disabilities experience physical and emotional abuse in relationships at higher rates than able-bodied women. While he never laid a finger on me, there was manipulation, grooming, and control.
“He saw someone in pain and pounced. You were grieving. Even if your Aunt Bea hadn’t died yet, your heart was preparing to lose her.” He swipes his hand over his face. “I know JoJo and Trina have first dibs, but I call the scraps.”
A grin takes over my face. “I’ll let them know.” I wince. “God, why do I keep emotionally oversharing with you?”
“Isn’t that what you do on dates? I’ll admit that it’s been a while since I went on a proper date, so I’m out of practice.”
“When was your last date?”
“A year ago.”
“You haven’t been with anyone in a year?” I gape.
“I didn’t say that” he scoffs and then let’s out an annoyed breath telegraphing that he hadn’t planned to share that.
I pick up my glass and feign nonchalance, ignoring the twist in my belly at the idea of Rowan with anyone else. “So, just one-night stands and friends with benefits type of arrangements I take it.”
“Something like that.” He raps his knuckles against the table. “Nobody since January. I’ve been focused on work.”
“The pub?”
“And–”
“Evening, folks.” Harley’s velvety baritone steals Rowan’s words. “We have a special treat tonight. There’s a celebrity in our mix.”
Spine rigid, Rowan’s gaze jumps to Harley. His lean frame, washed in the yellow radiance of a single pendant light, leans against a stool atop the small stage in the corner. An acoustic guitar dangles in front of him and his hands wrap around a standing mic.
Rowan grabs my hand, pulling my vision to him. It’s dark in here, outside of the soft incandescence of mini chandeliers in random spots throughout the bar area. I purposely picked a table directly under one, knowing the extra light would boost my limited sight.
Rowan’s mouth, visible from beneath his hat’s brim, forms a firm line. “Pen, I–”
But Harley continues, “For those who don’t know tonight we have Ms. Pen Meadows in the audience. Pen is not only a well-known social media influencer?—”
My body bristles. I’mhardlyan influencer. Cane Austen and Me is more advocacy, less influence, at least in the traditional sense.
“—but is also a championship singer. Pen, I know I said I’d let you think about it but in my experience overthinking things leads to regrets. Care to join me for a song?”
My head twists, following the whistles, claps, and cheers that sound around the room.
“Just one song.” A self-assured smugness coats his playful crone.
Rowan takes my hand. “You don’t have to. I can kill him. We can go.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “No, I’ll do it.” I stand up.
Rowan’s hand remains linked with mine, stopping my steps. “You don’t have to do this for him.”
My eyes fix on Rowan. “I know.”
Harley is an ass. There’s no doubt in my mind. I knew it mere minutes into the conversation with him. The red flags that I ignored with Alex rippled violently in the hot air swooshing out of Harley’s mouth. But he’s right about one thing.
No regrets.Bending, I press the softest kiss to the corner of Rowan’s lips. “This isn’t for him,” I whisper.
