“Excellent work,” I say, bending down to inspect the finger-painting mess my eight toddlers are currently making at the table. There are yellow suns and red flowers, and a whole lot of brownish squiggly smears.
And despite the sheer craziness of arts and crafts time, I really am proud of them. I love being a preschool teacher. From nine to four every day, I’m responsible for eight little people who completely adore me. I’m greeted with hugs in the morning, I get the honor of bandaging scraped knees and soothing hurt feelings, and there’s usually someone who tells me I’m pretty. All in all, it’s not a bad workday. Plus, we get snack time. I’m all about snack time. Today we had animal crackers. They’re my secret weapon when I really need the kids to listen.
“Look at mine, Miss Lise!” Carter calls out—completely forgetting the lesson I taught him on using his inside voice.
I kneel down so we’re at eye level. “It’s wonderful,” I say in a low voice. “I can tell you worked very hard.”
He beams up at me. “I sure did.”
“Mommy’s going to have something beautiful to decorate her fridge.”
I grin as I move across the room to help the children place their masterpieces in the drying rack. I love these little humans. I mean, yeah they’re like mini crazy drunk people, but I adore them all the same.
I’m completely in my element managing the chaos of removing eight tiny smocks, and supervising the washing of sixteen little hands, and not even the text I got earlier can dampen my mood. Which is strange considering the contents of said text message. And yeah, it’s probably a bit alarming, but I literally felt nothing when I looked down at the words Andy sent to me earlier.
He’d broken up with me over text, saying he thought we’d be better off as friends. I’d replied with the thumbs up emoji. If that doesn’t tell you how broken I am, nothing will. It might have set the world record for the world’s fastest—and least engaging—breakup.
But I’d texted Becca and she rounded up the girls, and so tonight after work, we’re meeting for happy hour at one of my favorite places. The guys have practice tonight, and so I haven’t told Owen about my breakup with Andy yet, but it’s hardly front page news. Yeah, I’d dated him for a couple of months, but I’m hardly upset about it. But that doesn’t mean I won’t let my girlfriends spoil me with cocktails and appetizers tonight.
• • •
“A round of shots?” Sara asks, eyebrows raised in concern across the table.
I set my menu down and shake my head. “It’s not that kind of a breakup.”
“Are you denying us a perfectly good reason to drink?” Sara is a couple of years older, the same age as my brother and Justin, and she’s an attorney. “Fine, we’ll celebrate then. To being young, single and open to new adventures.”
Becca is seated beside me, with Sara and Bailey across from us.
“That’ll work. I just want something yummy that will numb my brain.” I glance at the drink specials again.
“Something numby then. Coming right up.” Not one to wait around for our server to show up, Sara marches up to the bar to put our order in.
We’re seated near the bay windows and the setting sun and the gray drizzle makes me want to curl up in a cozy sweater and drink hot chocolate, but gossiping and drinking cocktails with my girlfriends is a very close second. I’d asked Becca not to say anything to the girls after my night with Justin. I didn’t think I could handle three sets of sad eyes peering at me with pity. And I’m thankful she’s kept it to herself. Losing your virginity to someone who doesn’t even remember it isn’t exactly a high point in life.
We’re halfway through our first round when the server finally comes over to check on us. Becca promptly orders half a dozen appetizers, including the steamed dumplings I love, while Sara gets us another round of drinks.
I love my friends.
We trade stories about our workdays, and Becca supplies gossip from the hockey team. She works as an assistant to the team owner and always has the best gossip. Apparently last season’s rookie was released during the off-season for boinking the coach’s daughter. Whoops. Way to fuck up your pro-career in three seconds flat, buddy.
We’re all pleasantly buzzed when the atmosphere in the bar suddenly shifts. Hushed whispers fall over the tables surrounding us and my eyes swing over to the doors just in time to see four hulking hockey players entering the bar. It’s my brother and Justin flanked by Teddy and Asher. These guys would cause a stir wherever they go—they’re young, fit and attractive, but in this city, they’re practically gods. Being professional athletes and part of a popular winning team will do that I guess.
I hadn’t known to expect them, but this bar is near the rink. I guess they’re grabbing a drink after practice.
Becca half stands and waves them over and the guys get busy pulling another table up to join ours. “I texted Owen that we were here,” she says. And then she meets my eyes. “Oh.”
Yeah. Oh. I know Becca and Owen are good friends, but she should have realized that inviting him here meant Justin would most likely tag along.
My eyes make a greedy sweep of his tall frame without my brain’s permission. His denim clad thighs are muscular and powerful and his long-sleeve t-shirt stretches tautly across his broad chest. He could pass for a superhero. Or maybe he’s the villain?
It doesn’t matter how attractive he is. He’s broken and I need to move on. Period, end of story.
I’ve gotten really good at avoiding him, and when he takes a seat at the opposite end of the table, I release the little breath I’d been holding.
The guys order drinks and our appetizers are delivered.
“To Andy, the douche, for freeing Elise up so she can move on to bigger and better things in her future…” Becca says, hiccupping a little at the end of her toast.
We clink glasses and everyone drinks except for me. I’m too busy figuring out how to discreetly kick Becca under the table.
My brother meets my eyes across the table. “You broke up?”
I shrug, and open my mouth to respond just as Becca leans forward.
“He dumped her. Via text message,” she says, a little too loudly. “What kind of a garbage person does that?”
Sara shakes her head and slides Becca’s drink away from her. “Jesus, Becs. I’m cutting you off.”
My cheeks burn with the attention of the entire table now looking at me—notably Justin. His blue gaze feels hot and makes me jittery like there’s suddenly a million butterflies dancing the cha-cha inside my stomach. Ignore it, my brain demands.
I raise my martini glass and take a sip of the potent cocktail. “Nothing a little alcohol can’t fix.” I force a fake grin. And then my eyes meet Justin’s across the table. That was a bad idea. He looks so intense and serious. And he’s frowning at me. His hair is still slightly damp from the shower, and God, I’d give anything to smell him. Which is fucked up, I know that. But the heart wants what it wants, and mine stupidly still wants him.
Even after everything that’s happened. Or shit, maybe it’s because of everything that’s happened, hell I don’t know. Or maybe Andy breaking up with me out of the blue hit me harder than I thought. I force my eyes away from Justin’s and bring my drink to my lips, only to discover it’s already gone.
When did that happen?
Justin raises one hand, summoning the waitress to return, I hear him ordering another drink. There’s only a glass of ice water in front of him, but he tips his chin toward me and the perky waitress nods. Then he orders another plate of dumplings, instructing her to deliver them to me. What the hell? Why is he being so nice to me when he’s avoided me like the plague the entire summer?
Actually let’s not get carried away. Nice is a relative term. The dude hasn’t said more than half a dozen words to me in the months since we slept together. It’s a freaking miracle that Owen hasn’t noticed. Of course we act the part well, we laugh at all the right times, and take all the good natured ribbing as though nothing has changed between us. Then again, maybe Justin really doesn’t remember. Maybe he’s not pretending at all. Maybe it’s just me.
A few minutes later, a fresh cocktail appears in front of me and Justin watches me take my first sip. My hands are shaky and it has zero to do with the alcohol I’ve already consumed. It’s with great effort that I set the glass back down without any of the contents sloshing over the side. Next, a steaming plate of dumplings appears at the table, and Justin has to bat the hands away from them.
“Hands off, fuckers. Those are for Elise.”
I accept the plate he passes down the table. The guys did polish off most of the appetizers we ordered. But still, Justin remembered these were my favorite.
“Thanks,” I murmur weakly, not wanting to make a big deal of his thoughtful gesture.
I’m sure it’s just a case of him wanting to be nice to the girl who just got her heart broken. Only my heart’s broken for him and not Andy, but I can’t say that. Only Becca knows the truth.
She helps herself to one of my dumplings and smiles. “That was awfully sweet of Justin.”
I elbow her in the ribs under the table and force a smile. She gets a little too chatty when she’s drunk and I cannot afford to have something slip out of her mouth unwarranted.
But she’s right. I can’t help but wonder about his intentions. Is it really just because I got dumped or is it because he does remember what happened that night and feels badly?
“Owen seems to be enjoying himself,” Becca says, nodding once to my brother as he meets her eyes and smiles.
“He usually does,” I murmur.
That’s a true statement. My brother can find joy in the most mundane moments. I’m pretty sure going to the dentist’s office with my brother would be fun. Scratch that, I know it is. He kept me entertained throughout our entire childhood.
Normally the talk turns to hockey with our group, but tonight Bailey, Owen and Asher are in some deep conversation about which movies from our childhood were the best.
“Harry Potter,” I shout to a chorus of groans.
“God, you’re so young, Elise,” Sara says.
I roll my eyes. Most of our group is in their late twenties while I just turned twenty-four a few weeks ago. “Whatever.”
“Mary Poppins is my jam,” Becca announces.
“The remake or the original?” Owen asks.
She plants one hand over her heart in mock disgust. ”The original.”
“Mary Poppins was hot,” Asher adds, agreeing with her, but for entirely the wrong reason.
Becca laughs beside me.
“Hey, Becca,” my brother calls down to our end of the table. “You hear about the rookie?” He’s grinning.
“Yup. Crash and burn.” She makes a blowing up motion with her hands.
Trading insider gossip is their currency. The juicier the better. I’m really glad that Becca has my brother. She’s been through a lot, and he’s like a big brother to her too.
After another round, I’ve gotten tipsier than expected and I suddenly stand. “I need to get home. I have to teach preschool in the morning.”
“So responsible,” Sara mutters. “And I better go too. I’ve gotta lawyer it up in court tomorrow.” She stands, grabbing her purse from the back of the chair. “Want to share an Uber?”
Justin rises to his feet. “I can take Elise. Splitting an Uber doesn’t work—she lives on the other side of town.”
Owen looks at him curiously. “You’ve only had water, right?”
Justin nods. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Apparently the fate of my journey home has been decided. Owen nods his consent and Justin rises, fishing his car keys out from the pocket of his dark jeans.
I rise on shaky legs, suddenly wishing I hadn’t drank quite so much, and lean down to give Owen a kiss on the cheek. “Night,” I murmur. “Make sure Becca gets home safe.”
“Will do,” Owen says, and then he flashes a pointed look at Justin. “Be careful with my little sister, she’s precious cargo.”
Justin looks directly at him, communicating something I don’t understand. “I know, don’t worry. I won’t let anything bad happen to her.”
Owen nods. “I’ve got her tab.”
Becca—God bless her, she is the world’s worst drunk person—leans over to me and whispers loudly, “You okay? This could be a good thing, right?”
I nod tightly, and dart away, terrified of what else she might whisper-yell in my direction.
As I follow Justin to the door, part of me thinks Becca could be right. It might be good for us to talk. It’s been months, we need to clear the air at some point. Don’t we?
Even if I want to be mad at him, part of me still misses his friendship.
As I follow him to the car, I’m transported back to one of the many times Justin came to my rescue.
I had just turned fifteen, and was out on my first date, unbeknownst to my parents. Gabe was a sophomore, and I was a freshman. He had his own car, and I thought he was the coolest, hottest guy in school. He wasn’t anywhere near Justin-level hotness, but since Justin had yet to notice that I was growing up, I had to take what I could get. Gabe and I went to a party, and unfortunately for me, he’d started drinking. The longer the night wore on, the more my anxiety started to grow. I knew I couldn’t get in the car with him later, which meant I had no way to get home. Since I was afraid to call Owen, I did the next best thing. I called Justin and he was there within fifteen minutes, hauling Gabe outside and ripping him a new one. He was so intense, so angry, but also so sweet with me. I recall the way his fingers trembled as he buckled me into the passenger seat.
Blinking away the memory, I climb into the black SUV beside him. Just before he closes my door, his eyes meet mine, and I swear I see in them the same look he gave me that night we had sex. But then the door shuts and he walks around to his side of the car.
“Buckle up.” His tone is neutral, but a little guarded and I have the strangest feeling he’s upset about something.
He pulls onto the road, and the silence stretches between us. It’s tense, and awkward. We never used to be like this. God, why did I agree to come with him? Oh yeah because I’m drunk and I have no self-control when it comes to Justin Fucking Brady.
“Talk to me E,” he finally says, fingers curling around the steering wheel.
“What do you want to talk about?” I try to keep my tone casual, but I’m terrified that I know exactly what he wants to talk about.
“It’s just… shouldn’t we clear the air?”
“About?” I blink at him.
He’s going to have to spell it out for me. I’m done assuming where this man is concerned. I assumed he was into me that night, but I clearly read that wrong. And I won’t repeat the same mistake twice.
“Oh, I don’t know. How about that time you woke up in my bed naked?” His deep voice hits me straight in the chest.
“If you’ve got something to say, say it.” My tone is firm as feelings that have been buried for months rise to the surface.
He waits at the light, making a left-hand turn without saying anything just yet.
Well that’s just fucking perfect. “It’s fine, Justin. We don’t have to talk about anything.” I lean my head back against the headrest and close my eyes while my heart hammers out an uneven rhythm in my chest.
