Page 93 of So I'll Know
“My father told me that Ryan has been MIA for a week. Left for his house up north for an undisclosed amount of time. Apparently, he’s dealing with his son.”
“So that means . . .”
She threads our fingers together. “It means that maybe you can relax a little. I’m not saying let your guard down entirely, but it sounds like he has bigger problems right now than following his business partner’s son around.” Her eyes are sad. “Maybe you could go see Jeremy. Explain what happened at the very least.”
I sit back, her words giving me pause, but I shake my head. “Maybe. But Ryan could still have someone else doing his dirty work for him.”
Sabrina shrugs. “I’m just saying, it sounds like it wasn’t a planned absence, so I think that’s unlikely.”
She may be right, but I still feel miserable, and I must look it because as we pull up to the front of the building, Sabrina squeezes my hand and winks. “Put on your game face, superstar.”
I roll my eyes, lock my emotions up tight, and step out of the car.
I don’t knowwho planned this event, but I’m taking it very personally.
The venue is stunning, just like the grown-up prom I alwaysthought it was. Twinkle lights adorn every inch of the ceiling, cascading down the curtains like fireflies on a summer night. There’s a dance floor edged by tables draped in shimmery white tablecloths with elaborate candle centerpieces, and a string band is front and center playing an elegant rendition of what sounds suspiciously like a Michelle Branch song straight off theDawson’s Creeksoundtrack.
Jeremy would have loved it.
I’m standing at the bar, taking a much-needed break from socializing. I glance at Sabrina, who’s chatting with an older couple about her grandmother, who died of cancer, and it makes me feel guilty for my poor attitude. This event really is for a good cause. I’m just tired of all the congratulations on our engagement that we’ve been getting all evening.
True to Sabrina’s word, Ryan is nowhere to be seen, but my father has been watching me with an insufferable amount of pride, as if I’m finally acting like the son he always knew I could be. I don’t want his fucking approval anymore, but the little boy inside me is glowing.
The irony of it all guts me in a way I didn’t expect.
The bartender gives me a knowing smile as he slides over the glass of whisky I ordered. “I didn’t recognize you, Mr. Conner.”
I look up in confusion. He’s younger than me, probably close to Jeremy’s age, and has shaggy red hair and adorable dimples; I can admit to myself now that I find him attractive. I’ve been allowing myself to fully feel my feelings, and it turns out I feel stupid for denying my attraction to men all my life because men are hot.
“Do I know you?”
His smile deepens. “We met at Skynet’s office in November. But I’m an unpaid intern who moonlights as a bartender, so I don’t expect you to remember me.”
I frown, racking my brain because Iwantto remember him,but the day that my dad forced me into the office after Cannon Beach was such a shitshow. “Nate?”
His green eyes light up. “Close! Nick.”
“Oh, shit.” I cover my mouth. “Sorry, I mean shoot.” I clear my throat. “What were you saying?”
He waves my apology away. “Just that you had a beard and your hair was different, so I almost didn’t recognize you until I saw you with Sabrina Pine.” His comment is innocent but makes me feel stabby. I don’t want to look different. I want to look like me. Nick leans across the bar. “Congrats on the engagement, by the way.”
I bite back a groan and give him a polite smile. “Thanks,” I say, just as a gentle hand lands on my forearm. I look back at Sabrina’s chocolate-brown eyes, so full of concern, and my throat feels tight, like I might cry.
“Dance with me, Roy,” she murmurs.
“Excuse us,” I direct at Nick, and then I allow Sabrina to lace our hands together and pull me to the center of the room. A crystal chandelier twinkles above the dance floor, the warm light puddling around us as I place my hand on Sabrina’s hip and we sway to the music.
“Are you doing okay?” She gives me an impish smile. “I heard the adorable bartender congratulating you, and I thought you were about to commit murder.”
I give her a wry smile. “Am I that transparent?”
“To me you are, but I think most people are used to that permanent scowl on your face.”
I chuckle. “My friend Tristan calls it my resting dick face.”
“Brilliant. I’m stealing that.”
We continue to dance, and Sabrina lays her head on my shoulder with a sigh. Her weight and warmth are conforming, but feel off. Wrong. She’s not the person who fits in my arms. She’s too tall, her nails too long, her body too soft.
