Page 119 of That Moment
Axel takes a long pull from his bottle, then says, casual as hell, “Adrienne’s taking that job in L.A. At Celeste’s old firm.” He rolls his eyes, “She’s acting all coy about it, but this is what she’s been gunning for since she was a kid.”
The words hit like a sledgehammer to the ribs. For a second, I swear the world tilts.There’s no fucking way. She wouldn’t.
Aiden blinks. “Wait, what? Since when?”
Axel shrugs. “She mentioned it to me earlier today. Guess she finally decided to go for it. She’s probably going to wait and have some big grand reveal with us about it, so don’t say anything to her yet. I don’t want to spoil her surprise.”
My jaw locks. “You sure about that, her moving there?”
“Pretty damn sure.” Axel smirks, clapping my shoulder. “Looks like you’re off the hook, buddy. Won’t have to kick your ass after all.”
They both laugh, but I can’t move. Can’t breathe. I force a half-smile. “Guess that’s good news, then.”
Aiden raises his bottle in a mock toast. “Hell yeah. She’ll kill it out there.”
I nod, lips tight, then lift my beer and take a long, bitter swallow. Because all I can think about is the fact that I was going to tell her tonight. Tell her I loved her. And she’s already planning to leave.
I don’t storm off. Wouldn’t do any good anyway. Besides, this isn’t the kind of night you ruin with your own bullshit feelings. So I do what I’ve learned to do best, act fine. Pretend my chest doesn’t feel like it’s caving in.
I move through the crowd, nodding at familiar faces, taking sips from my beer, which I don’t even taste. Tyler slaps my back,cracking a joke about how I must be the DD tonight, the way I’m nursing my beer. Trent pulls me into a conversation about the playoffs, and I let him talk because it’s easier than thinking.
But every few minutes, my eyes find her.
Right now, she’s standing by the kitchen island, glass of wine in hand, laughing with Brooklyn and Amelia. Her hair catches the light every time she turns. She throws her head back laughing, one hand over her chest, and my throat goes tight.
I tell myself to stop looking. To stop feeling like this. I should be happy for her. She’s chasing something she’s always wanted. I want her to be happy, even if it’s without me. But the thought feels like swallowing glass.
When she finally looks my way, it’s just for a second. A small smile. The kind that used to knock the wind out of me. She mouths something,Hey.
I lift my beer in answer, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.
The night continues like that, little flashes of her across the room, brushed fingertips when she passes by, the faint scent of her perfume cutting through the barbecue smoke. Every time she nears, I feel my chest unclench just a little… until someone calls her name and she’s gone again.
Once, she drifts close enough for me to catch her hand. It’s soft, warm, steadying in a way that makes me want to hold onto her. She gives a quiet smile that doesn’t match the brightness she’s showing everyone else. There’s an apology in it.
She mouths,I’m sorry.
I shake my head, mouth back,you’re fine.Then I let go before my fingers start to tremble.
So I keep laughing. I keep acting like the beer in my hand is enough to dull the ache in my chest. By the time the night starts to fade, I feel like a ghost in my own skin. Still smiling, still joking when someone speaks to me, but empty underneath it all.
She has no idea I’m watching her like it’s the last time.
I slip outside to breathe. The noise inside is too much. My boots scuff the deck as I drop down onto a bench near the railing. I roll the bottle between my palms, staring at the warm beer that sloshes around inside it.
The door opens softly behind me. I don’t turn, but I know that perfume anywhere.
“Hey,” she says quietly.
“Hey.”
She sits down beside me, close enough that our thighs brush. The warmth of her skin seeps through my jeans. Neither of us says anything for a long time. We just sit there.
“You hiding too?” she asks finally, her voice a touch raspy from talking all night.
“Guess so.” I take a drink, eyes still on the yard.
After a pause, she shifts, rests her head on my shoulder like she used to when we were younger, when everything between us was easy. Her hair brushes my jaw, and on instinct, I close my eyes and breathe in her scent. I feel my whole body go rigid, fighting the urge to pull her closer. The silence stretches, heavy but peaceful.
