She stands and peers at the ball in my hand. “Thank you, Jamie.”

“If you’d like another one, I can get you—”

“No.” She takes it from me, running her fingers along its surface. “It’s perfect.”

I search her eyes, sensing tension radiating off her in waves. “Doing all right? Need anything?”

Her expression falters for just a moment before the smooth front is back. “Yeah. But I could use a drink. Vodka cranberry? Thank you,” she adds, nudging me gently with her shoulder.

Juliet stands quietly, staring at her shoes as Bea white-knuckles the ball.

“Be back soon,” I tell her, hoping that’s a reassurance.

We’re in this together, I told her in the cab.

And now I realize how much I meant it.

· FIFTEEN ·

Bea

Jamie strolls away, but not before stashing his bowling ball, then setting his hand, warm and heavy, against my back as he passes me. It’s a fleeting touch, but it makes me feel better. It reminds me that when we pulled up to the Alley, he turned my way and bumped knees with me, making me stop from opening the door as he said, Don’t forget, when we get in there and we’re bombarded by everyone. We’re in this together.

My heart squeezed at his sincerity, and I threw open the taxi door before I could do something ridiculous, like hug him when there wasn’t an audience for it. Because that would be a completely wrong reason to hug Jamie Westenberg.

Now, watching him disappear around the corner to the bar, I’m doubly glad I didn’t do that. Our dynamic needs to stay clearly defined in my head. This is pretend. It’s built on deception. The last relationship I had was built on deception, too, and God, did I do so much fucking pretending. Pretending to be happy. Pretending that I felt loved. Pretending I was okay. Deception was Tod’s bread and butter. He twisted things and warped the truth, and to sustain our relationship, I had to believe those lies. This time is different. This time I know the truth. This time the lie is on my terms.

“BeeBee?” Jules’s voice pulls me back to the present. “Are you listening?”

I glance her way, shifting the ball in my grip. “Sorry, no.”

“I said, you’ve been distant all week. We didn’t bump into each other once.”

That was on purpose. And I’ll have you know that it takes skill to avoid your twinny roommate when you live in a nine-hundred-square-foot apartment. “I was busy,” I tell her.

“Okay. Well, I was hoping we could have a conversation now, since we haven’t been able to before this.”

Sighing, I set my ball next to Jamie’s. “Come on.” I jerk my head toward the ladies’ room. “I have to take a leak. Let’s walk and talk.”