She nods sure.
The singer croons about the agony of lost love.
I try to focus on the street and the wall between us. By the time I cross the freeway, it's helpless.
It's a perfect summer night—seventy and breezy—but the car is freezing cold.
"It's making me sick." I stop at a red light. "That you aren't talking to me."
"I'm just busy."
My eyes find hers. "Bullshit."
"No." She refuses to hold my gaze. "I did that first design."
"That's amazing."
"Yeah. Thanks. I'm just working really hard to make it perfect. And then I got my second client. And my third one. And I, uh… I'm busy."
"You didn't tell me."
"I didn't want to bother you."
"Leigh—"
She presses her lips together.
"You asked me not to lock you out."
"I know."
"Don't lock me out either."
She turns to me. For a second, her eyes meet mine. Then they go to my chest. She reaches over the dash to undo my tie. "You didn't quite—" She pulls the knot tight. "There."
"Leigh."
"The light's green."
It is. I turn to the road. Tap the gas. Glide down Santa Monica Boulevard.
Her voice is soft. Frustrated. "I don't know what to say."
"The truth."
"I will. later."
"Later?"
She nods. "Soon. I promise."
What the hell? "Let's go somewhere. Talk. I have all night."
She motions to the road. "We're almost there."
"I can blow this off. You're more important."
"Than your closure?" She crosses her legs. Smooths her dress. "I don't think so."
She's more important than closure.
Than anything.
That hole in my gut isn't as deep. I can think of Penny without my throat closing. I can picture her and Frank without going numb.
But thinking of losing Leighton—
My fingers curl into the steering wheel.
I breeze through a green light. Stare at the clear road. Suck a shallow breath between my teeth.
Things were good last month.
Sex always fucks shit up.
And this was just from a kiss.
I need to make sure it doesn't get worse. I need to draw that line between real and pretend.
To make sure none of it goes below the waist.
Hell, below the neck.
She breaks the silence. "I… I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm sorry."
Is she apologizing to me or to this guy who's her first choice?
I guess it doesn't matter.
She wants him.
I'm not gonna be the other man.
And I'm not gonna lose her.
"Me too." The words feel like a lie.
"Anything I should know about this crowd?"
"I'm not sure I know shit about this crowd."
"Oh?" She lowers the mirror on the visor. Checks her lipstick—still perfect. "You don't know her friends?"
"The old ones, yeah. But I can't imagine anyone who liked me is showing up."
She presses the visor to the roof. Presses her back against the fabric of her seat. "Yeah. You're the innocent one."
"I'm not innocent."
"But you didn't fuck someone who wears boat shoes."
"I'd never do that. I'd never be the other man."
"I know." Her lip corners turn down.
Is that regret or something else?
I don't know.
But I want to.
I want every thought in her fucking head.
It's different than it normally is.
Deeper.
More impossible to ignore.
I turn my attention to the road for the rest of the drive. Leighton taps something into her phone. Work or play or Mr. Powers, I don't know.
I park.
She slides her cell into her purse. Turns every ounce of her attention to me. "You ready for this?"
No.
But I'm tired of waiting for shit.
I'm tired of watching the world slip by my fingers.
Stepping through the Winters' oak door feels like stepping into the past. The living room is the same spacious paradise. White walls. Plush carpet. Sleek red couch. Cherry table.
Penny's life—from her birth to some vacation a few years ago—is on the wall, right above her younger sister's.
The room is packed. A dozen of Penny's friends. A dozen of Frank's—I assume the guys in khakis are his friends. And a dozen of her parents' business partners.
She must hate that she needs Daddy's money. That it comes with strings.
It doesn't satisfy me.
I'm not smirking over how far she's fallen.
I know her well enough to get how much it sucks.
Leighton's fingers intertwine with mine. Her heels tap the tile as she crosses the foyer. They sink into the carpet of the living room.
Her eyes narrow on something.
Penny and Frank in the corner of the room, clinking champagne glasses with her dad and some guy his age. A friend. Or Frank's dad.
Whoever it is, he's happy for them.
He's beaming.
She is too.
Her honey eyes light up as she laughs. She tilts her head back, downing the champagne in one go. Shakes her head damn, that was a lot. Looks up at Frank the way she used to look at me.
Asking for his approval.
His praise.
His love.
He gives it to her. He brings his glass to her lips. Smiles as she takes a long swig.
She rises to her tiptoes.
He wraps his hands around her waist.
They kiss like no one is watching.
Like they'll never get enough of each other.
"Ryan." Leighton's nails dig into my wrist.
She's trying to take the hit for me.
But she doesn't need to.
It still hurts, seeing them together. It's quick, like taking a hit during sparring.
It stings.
But it's already fading.
They're happy.
They're good together.
He's giving her something I couldn't. Something I don't want to give her.
Someone steps in front of them, blocking the scene.
Leighton pulls me closer. She raises a brow you okay?
I am. But I don't know how to put it into words. I don't know how to do anything but stare into her blue-green eyes.
They're beautiful.
They've always been beautiful, but they've never hit me this deep.
"Oh babe, I'm so glad you took my advice." Dean's voice booms through the room. It turns a dozen heads.
Casts attention on us.
It feels like time fucking stops.
Like everyone is staring.
No, everyone is staring. Did the jilted ex really show?
"Take your advice?" Leighton makes a show of shuddering. "How disturbing."
He hands a short, clear glass to her. "That's all vodka."
"Shit." Her fingers curl around the glass. "Thank you."
That must be three shots worth. I stare at my brother. Try to figure out his intentions.
Leighton says there's nothing between them.
I want to believe her.