His words echoed in my head. Do you think . . . Did I think what? There had been this split second of an almost-moment between us, before Mitch had interrupted. Like the ice had been broken by our kiss the previous day, and he saw me now as a person. Not just a wench in a corset—sorry, a bodice. But the moment hadn’t lasted. As soon as we’d started talking about socializing outside of Faire he’d withdrawn completely, like my ex had. I knew the signs by now. I was an expert at he’s just not that into you.
In a flash, I was back at the last party Jake and I had gone to together, sometime last fall. A networking event at his first firm, the small one where he’d been a promising new associate. He’d worked the room like the smooth attorney he was fast becoming, and it was there that he met the senior partner at the big firm that he left his first job—and me—to join. At that party, he’d hardly introduced me to anyone, and if he did I was “his friend Emily.” Not girlfriend, and certainly not fiancée. Friend. After an hour or so he’d abandoned me to make connections on his own, as I was clearly holding him back. I’d adhered myself to the open bar, nursing a cabernet and feeling about two feet tall.
Now I felt that way again, without the benefit of unlimited alcohol to drown myself in.
I probably should get the message: Simon wasn’t interested. Besides, I shouldn’t want him to be. I shouldn’t want to be anywhere near someone who made me feel the way Jake had. That kiss had been an aberration, and I should forget it had happened.
“So you’ll come out tonight, right?” Stacey asked as we walked up the hill toward the tavern.
“Yeah,” I said. “Why not? It’ll be fun.”
Thirteen
It was not fun.
Okay, the actual night out was great. Mostly. As promised, the pizza at Jackson’s was good, and the drinks were better. For a place I had been actively avoiding due to its outside appearance, inside it was warm and friendly. Gleaming wood; a karaoke machine that worked a little too well once the pitchers of beer started flowing; dartboards and pool tables in the back. It had been a long time since I’d had a night out like that.
Which was why it had been a long time since I’d felt this shitty the morning after a night out like that.
Coffee was essential. Also a large glass of water. And a very dark, very quiet room where I could not talk to anyone all day. Thankfully, April was ambulatory, and ready to tackle the forty-minute commute to her office job for the first time since her accident. She hummed with energy while I sat at the kitchen table and stared into the cup of coffee in front of me. Would it be enough, or would I need another three or four?
“You didn’t need to get up this early, you know.” April stuck her earrings in and brushed her hair back over her shoulders. She’d blown it out; it looked sleek and smooth. Very professional. Mine was a frizzy nightmare that couldn’t be contained.
My shrug was more of a slump from where I sat. “I didn’t know if you would be up for driving yet. Thought I’d get up just in case.” Physically she was in great shape; her limp was barely noticeable now. But she still tensed up when we went places in the car, and she hadn’t yet been behind the wheel since her accident. So for her to think she could swan out the door like it was nothing was a little presumptuous on her part.
“Nah.” She poured coffee into a travel mug and added a dollop of half-and-half from the fridge. “I’ll be fine.”
See? Presumptuous. But I sipped my coffee and didn’t contradict her.
“Seriously, Em, go back to bed. There’s no reason for you to be up at this hour. Especially since you were out so late last night.”
“Ugh.” My head thudded to the table. Ow. “Don’t remind me. Mistakes were made.” Mistakes of the multiple-tequila-shots variety. I wasn’t a tequila girl, but Mitch could be very persuasive. That boy was something like ninety-eight percent muscle; he could drink. I shouldn’t have even tried to keep up, but I’d been so discombobulated by the roller coaster of emotions that weekend at Faire. Simon was a dick. No, Simon was kissing me. No, he said he’d made a mistake in doing so. No, we were kissing again, and he was damn good at it. No, once other people were around he was back to acting like I was the living embodiment of gum stuck to his shoe. I’d hardly seen him all day Sunday, and while he’d shown up at Jackson’s with everyone else, he looked like he hated being there and was gone after about fifteen minutes.
Which had left me with Stacey, Mitch, and his endless tequila shots. Mitch was genial. He was fun. He kept the booze flowing along with the jokes, and I didn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so hard. When Stacey and I decided to split a cab home, he’d practically strangled me in a one-armed hug and smacked a kiss on the top of my head. “You’re pretty cool, Park,” he’d said, and that simple compliment had glowed inside of me all the way home. At least someone liked me.
That glow had long since died out by the time my alarm went off for April’s first day back to work, and now I took another long sip of coffee.
“Did you have fun, at least?”
I contemplated that. “Yeah,” I finally said. “I did. Some pretty good people live in this town.”
“Yeah.” April leaned against the counter and sipped from her travel mug. “I hate small towns, but I guess this place is okay.”
I squinted up at her. “I don’t get that. You’ve lived here for ages, haven’t you?”
“Since Caitlin started the first grade.”
“Why?” It was too early to do the math, but even I could tell that was a long time. “If small towns aren’t your thing?”
“It’s not for me. It’s for Cait.” She flicked her gaze to the hallway leading to her daughter’s room. “If it were up to me, I’d be in one of those studio apartments in the city. I love the crowds, the noise. I like to blend in. You stand out too much in a small town.” She studied her coffee mug as she spoke, biting her lip.
“You could have stayed in Indiana, though,” I said.
“One town over from Mom and Dad for the rest of my life? No, thank you.” She looked at me squarely and I had to concede her point.
“We moved out here when I got a job offer in Baltimore, and I never looked back. But then I had to think of the best place to raise Caitlin. The place with the best schools, the best environment for her to grow up. And that sure wasn’t in the city. We were lucky to end up here.” She looked at me appraisingly. “It’s not a bad place to put down roots. You know, if you’re feeling rooty.”
“Rooty?” I snorted. “Is that even a word?”
She grinned back. “I have no idea. Maybe? You know what I mean.”