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My parents offer to watch all the grandkids, so I’m suckered into throwing back cocktails with young moms and dads who are far too eager to get a bit tipsy away from their children.
“Girls in this car, boys in that one!” Alana instructs as we all stomp out into the driveway.
“Can I go in the girls’ car? These guys are way too quiet,” I joke, and Liam flicks me the bird.
“No. Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Gabby points at August, who is walking to her own car.
She looks caught red-handed. “Oh, I was just going to head back to the house. I’m tired, and you guys have your family night out.”
Cass pouts. “We want you to come! It won’t be fun without you.”
“Yes, you have to come!” Alana seconds.
“I won’t take no for an answer.” Warren quirks his eyebrows.
Her eyes flit to me, and even though I shouldn’t, I can’t help myself. “You should come.”
A smile lifts the corner of her mouth, and she nods. “Yeah, okay. Just for one drink.”
The ride over to The Laura Inn, the local bar we’ve always frequented since the time each of us turned twenty-one, is short and consists of my brothers chatting about the latest sports game. I try to follow along but end up staring out the back seat window, lost in thoughts from family dinner.
By the time we find a parking spot, the girls are already inside and waiting, holding glasses of white wine. August looks completely comfortable, laughing and chatting with the women. For a moment, Alana’s warning leaves my head like it’s flying out an open window.
How easy would it be for me to go over there, to spend the night hovering by her, cradling my hand on the small of her back, whispering jokes in her ear? The urge to do so is palpable.
But then it’s back again, that notion that I can’t be what she needs. So, instead, I keep my distance, ordering a beer with my brothers and then joining them in our usual spot. Leather couches flank the massive fireplace roaring with a fire, even at this time of year. The industrial chandelier lights are turned down low, and the inn bar is crowded for a Sunday night.
A second round is ordered at some point as we all talk and laugh, the couples getting more intoxicated and flirty by the second. August is halfway through her second glass, and I’m happy she’s decided to let her hair down a bit.
In the corner of the bar, a small band comprised of a guitarist, a singer, and a guy on the keyboard begins to play. The song is classic rock turned acoustic, and it’s upbeat enough that a few people start dancing. Our waitress comes by and drops off a third round, of which I see August pluck a cocktail off the table.
She sits on the arm of the couch, smiling as she watches some of the couples in my family begin to dance together. Feeling the pull, I walk over to stand next to her.
“Parents night out is a bit frightening, huh?”
She looks at me from the corner of her eyes, not turning her head from the makeshift dance floor. “I think it’s sweet.”
Something in her voice harbors a bit of … resentment? Is she pissed at me for what I said at dinner?
“Hey, listen, about what happened at my parent’s house?—”
I’m about to apologize when someone interrupts me.
“August, right? We had history together senior year.”
When I turn slightly to see who just came up to talk to her, I’m faced with a blond guy with a dimpled chin directing his question at August’s chest. Instantly, jealousy flares in my guts.
“Um, yeah, I sort of remember. Is it Chet?” she asks, sipping her cranberry and vodka through the tiny red straw.
Fuck, her lips look so good puckered like that, and he definitely notices, too.
“Yeah. I didn’t realize you were back in town.” He smiles, and I want to punch him.
The reaction is so irrational, yet I step closer to August’s back. Not that either of them notice, much to my chagrin.
“I didn’t realize you even knew who I was.” I can tell she’s a little tipsy because I don’t think August would admit something like that without the influence of alcohol.
“Of course I do. How could I forget such a pretty face?” He drops the line, and I want to gag.
