Maybe he’s with someone else. The seductive blonde, perhaps.

“What do you want?” Collette asks me when we reach the bar.

They have a few signature cocktails listed and I peruse the list, landing on a cranberry martini. It’s served with a dusting of sugar on the rim, candied cranberries, and an orange peel garnish. It’s almost too pretty to drink after the bartender passes it over to me.

“You guys want to dance?” Heath asks.

The DJ is playing house music woven with popular songs from artists we all know: Taylor Swift, Lizzo, Justin Bieber. It’s actually pretty catchy.

I look to Collette, and she shrugs. “Sure, yeah. I could dance.”

Well so much for pretty garnishes. I down that drink quickly, both out of fear that I’ll accidentally spill it all over my dress as Collette drags me away from the bar and because I need the liquid courage if I’m going to go out onto a dance floor. Fortunately, there are so many bodies crammed into the space, everyone getting into the music, shouting the words when they know them—no one cares about me and what I’m doing.

I’m on the fringes for a while, barely shuffling back and forth, laughing at the over-the-top enthusiasm some people have for their favorite songs, then the DJ blends a Calvin Harris song with Rihanna lyrics and I can no longer restrain myself. I let Collette pull me toward her and we belt out the lyrics together, adding silly dance moves, mostly just…acting our ages, something I’ve never done.

I’m on my second drink, overheated and having fun on the dance floor still, when Alexander catches my attention and waves to me from across the room.

“You want a drink?” he mouths while miming the gesture with his hands.

I laugh and hold up my half-finished martini.

He nods and cuts around the crowd toward the bar. Then he comes to find us when he has his beer in hand.

I’m genuinely happy to see him until he leans in and tells me, “Just so you know, I texted Emmett to let him know you’re here.”

I rear back, knitting my eyebrows together. “What? Why did you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Ominous and foreboding, like something bad is about to happen.”

He winces.

“Alexander.”

He tugs a hand through his hair. “You haven’t seen him these last few days…”

“No. Of course I haven’t.”

“Well…let’s just say it hasn’t been good. He’s pretty eager to see you.”

“Alexander!”

He holds up his hands in innocence. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Lucky for him, a firearm didn’t go with this dress.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Lainey

I’m sitting in the center of a booth in Bar 717, sandwiched between Heath and Collette and their friends. Everyone is talking, but I’m staring at the door, a nervous wreck. I dumped the last half of my second drink and switched to water the moment Alexander warned me Emmett might be on his way. My leg bounces underneath the table, and Collette shoots me an odd look.