Page 39 of That Kiss

“We’re here to take you out,” Brooklyn announces after opening my bedroom door.

“Sorry,” Milly says softly, “but you have no choice.”

My hand is still paused halfway to my mouth with a burnt-and-now-cold Pop Tart. My phone is still replaying the same social media video I was watching on a loop while Golden Girls streams on my TV.

“Umm, okay. Am I unaware of an intervention I’m in need of?”

“No,” Dahlia sits on the edge of my bed, “but we’ve noticed that you have literally done nothing but go to work and then come home for the last week and a half. “I think it’s time to go dancing.”

She looks over at Milly, who smiles and chimes in, “Yeah, you love dancing!”

I glance around at the three of them, the same weird smile on their faces. “Let me guess: This is the ‘everyone’s found out about Decker’s ex showing up, so now you think I’m spiraling’ brigade?”

“It’s just that?—”

I sit up. “I’m okay, really. Just because I’ve had a crush on him since I was a girl doesn’t mean I thought we were going to get married.”

“We know; it’s not about that. We just haven’t seen you around, and we miss you. Plus, it’s a Friday night and you’re rewatching Golden Girls for the 100th time.”

“Fine.” I drag myself out of bed and walk over to the mirror. “Yikes,” I add, glancing at the rat’s nest on my head. “I’m going to need a shower.”

Thirty minutes later, we’re heading out the door and jumping into the back of Brooklyn’s Range Rover.

“Wait, where are we going?” I glance over my shoulder as we get on the interstate.

“Fort Collins. We need a change of scenery,” Dahlia replies quickly.

“Let me guess, less chance of running into Decker?” Milly shrugs and I roll my eyes. “You guys really need to work on your subtlety.”

We spend the drive talking, laughing, and singing along to our music. The gut-wrenching and often paralyzing sadness I’ve been keeping just below a simmer is finally getting pushed to the back of my mind.

For the first time in a few weeks, I feel like I can breathe. I feel like my old self. We grab tacos from our favorite place in town, along with margaritas, before moving on to the next spot. It’s a wine bar with romantic ambient lighting and a live jazz band in one corner.

“This place is so cute!” I gush as we take a seat at the bar and order martinis. “I’m glad I dressed up a little.” I tug at my short black dress that hugs my body like a second skin. It hits me mid-thigh with thin spaghetti straps. I had planned on pairing it with my slip-on tennis shoes, but the girls agreed my thigh-high boots looked better. I’m grateful for the suggestion as I look around the place.

By the time I’ve finished my martini, my head feels a little light. “I’m going to run to the restroom. Be right back.” I slide off my stool and glance toward the back of the bar, where a dark hallway has a sign for the restrooms. I take a few moments to freshen up, looking myself over in the mirror. My hair falls in air-dried waves, my makeup very minimal tonight. I slick on a layer of gloss and step out into the hallway, focused on putting it back into my purse, when I feel the presence of someone watching me. I look up to find Decker leaning against the wall by the emergency exit. I stare at him, blinking several times to make sure I’m not imagining him.

“Hey.” His voice is low.

“Hey.” It feels weird to see him in public, and the reason why suddenly hits me: I’m a good 45 minutes from home. “What are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same thing.” I stare back at him without answering. “I’m having dinner.”

“With Camilla?” I hate that I ask it; I know I sound jealous.

“Yes.”

I don’t know what to say, and I hate that he’s putting me in this position right now. Why couldn’t he just let me have a night in peace? Why’d he have to come hunt me down?

“Have a good dinner.” I smile, attempting to step around him, when his hand darts out to grab me.

“Juniper.” His voice is commanding, his hand resting warmly against my stomach. “Please.”

I step back, breaking our contact. “What do you want, Decker?”

“I want to talk. I want to know how you are.”

“Now doesn’t seem like the best time, considering you’re on a date with your fiancée.” I over-enunciate the last part.

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