Page 52 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
He’s not wrong. A few heads have turned. And Jake’s looking at her like he’d very much like to take her home.
I shift my weight, jaw tight.
Liam steps in smoothly, offering her his arm like a gentleman. “You holding up okay? Need food, water, a way out?”
Maya chuckles and loops her arm through his. “Are you offering to whisk me away from my own responsibilities?”
“If you ask nicely,” he says, his voice low.
Jake arches a brow. “Wow. You two flirting openly now? Should we step back and give you a moment?”
Maya’s cheeks flush, but her smile doesn’t waver. “I think this whole room is a moment.”
I watch her, tracking every micro-shift in her expression—the flick of her eyes to Jake, the way she leans slightly into Liam, the heat that lingers when her gaze brushes mine.
I clear my throat. “You look beautiful,” I say simply. “Just… wanted to say that.”
Maya’s breath catches. “Thank you.”
Jake huffs a soft laugh and raises his glass. “To the most stunning woman in the room. And the most dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” she echoes.
Jake’s grin widens. “You’ve got three grown men on edge and we’ve barely made it to the entrée.”
I cut him a look, but Maya just shakes her head, amused and flustered.
Liam, ever the diplomat, gently changes the subject—something about the wine list—but the energy lingers: tight, charged, unspoken. Each of us circling her in our own way, pretending we’re not measuring the distance between ourselves and each other.
Pretending we’re not all thinking the same thing.
Maya laughs softly, then excuses herself with a squeeze to Liam’s arm. “Be right back. Don’t drink all the champagne without me.”
She disappears into the crowd, weaving gracefully between tables, her dress catching the light just enough to make my chest ache.
God,Maya.
She doesn’t just move through the room—she owns it. Every glance, every smile feels deliberate. Effortless.
Smiling. Checking in. Making sure the night doesn’t unravel at the seams. Her hair’s twisted up with those soft pieces falling around her face, and her dress—simple, dark green, elegant—hugs her every curve.
She’s breathtaking.
She’s the only person in the room I can’t stop watching. From my quiet corner by the bar, I track her without even meaning to. Oh, well. I’m done pretending I’m not completely undone by her. She makes everyone feel important. Seen. Heard.
Even me.
I lift my glass to my lips. The whiskey’s warm and sharp against my tongue, but it doesn’t help with the ache building in my chest.
And that’s when I seehim.
Nick.
He’s too close to her. Laughing too loud. I can tell he’s barely holding it together, and I’m afraid he’s going to do something he’ll regret.
There’s a whiskey in his hand and a storm behind his eyes, and the second I see Maya’s smile falter, I’m already moving.
She’s not laughing anymore. Her spine is straighter, her shoulders pulled tight. The look on her face—like she’s shrinking inward and trying not to show it—makes something violent twist in my stomach.
