Nancy glances to both sides of her, then leans down even farther. "They lost the ranch. She couldn't stop racking up debt." She cocks her eyebrows, waiting for my reaction.

A mixture of emotions fills me. On the one hand, I feel bad for Matteo. I warned him. Yet the bad person in me feels some satisfaction knowing that she did to him exactly what I told him she would.

"Nancy, order up," the cook calls out.

"Back soon," she states, pats me on the shoulder, and leaves.

Georgia tilts her head, her eyes turning to slits, questioning, "Who's Matteo?"

I take a big gulp of my beer, swallow, and finally inform her, "My ex-best friend."

Her eyes widen. "Why is he your ex-best friend? Why isn't he still your best friend?"

I shift in my seat, tapping my pint glass.

"Sebastian?" she softly inquires.

"It's hard to stay friends with someone when they marry your ex-fiancée, who was also your high school sweetheart that only wanted you for your money."

Georgia gapes, then recovers, and a look of pity crosses her expression. I hate it. She quietly asks, "He married Molly?"

"Yep." I down half my beer.

Georgia puts her hand on mine. "That must have hurt."

"I don't need your pity," I tell her.

"Sympathy for others isn't the same as pity, Sebastian."

I think about her statement. Is that true? I tell myself to google the difference between sympathy and pity because I don't know if it is. So I stare at her hand on mine.

My silence must be a dead giveaway for my thoughts because Georgia adds, "Sympathy implies a deeper, more personal level of concern...because you care about the person. Pity is just an expression of sorrow. So what's wrong with sympathy?"

Once again, my little peach has me stumped. I decide she's way smarter than me and ask, "Can we change the subject?" Then I hold my beer out and say, "Cheers."

She sighs, then clinks my glass and takes a sip. She swallows and informs me, "Hey, Isabella has a surprise for you tonight."

The previous night I had makeup all over my face. By the time Isabella had to go to bed, I looked like a drag queen. I groan. "Do I want to know?"

Georgia cringes, then answers, "You get to be the first guest in her nail salon."

I groan, then chuckle. "I guess it's good I'm keeping you out past her bedtime."

"You are?"

"Yep."

"We're going to be here all night?" she asks, glancing around.

I chuckle again. "Nope."

She tilts her head, and I wish I were sitting beside her instead of across from her. She asks, "Well, where are you taking me?"

"On the best date ever."

She bites her lip.

I take another sip of beer.

She says, "You aren't going to tell me where?"

I lean closer. "If you slide over here and give me a kiss, I'll tell you."