Page 94 of Come Break My Heart Again

I finish getting ready, then call Prescott.

“Hey, babe.”

I grit my teeth, irrationally irritated by the endearment. Haven’t I told him I hate being called babe? I must have. But I can’t think of a concrete example, all of our conversations, recent and otherwise, one big blur in my head with no details standing out.

“Hey. You busy?”

Prescott sighs. There’s rustling in the background, like flipping papers. “Just studying. Couldn’t be happier about the interruption.”

I smile as he echoes my sentiments. “Feel like grabbing a drink with a couple of friends of mine? Keira is in town, and Juliet is bringing her boyfriend.”

“Yeah, that sounds great.” Pres’s response is genuine and immediate. I’m not as excited by his willingness as I should be, but I push my reservations away. Keira was right; it’s weird they haven’t met him yet. “Want me to pick you up?”

“Sure. We’re meeting at The Adams Club though. It’s out of your way.”

“I don’t mind. See you soon.”

“See you soon,” I echo, then walk toward the back door to let Scout out.

He sniffs around his favorite bush in the backyard for a few minutes, then finally lifts his leg. I feed him an early dinner, change out of the leggings I’ve worn all day, then load dirty dishes into the dishwasher until the doorbell rings.

“You look amazing,” Prescott says, pressing an enthusiastic kiss to my mouth before we head outside.

It’s the perfect temperature tonight, the June air warm but not hot. I doubt July and August will be this pleasant.

“Thank you,” I reply, pushing aside the awkwardness he appears oblivious to. He’s sunny and warm, and I feel like the dark cloud hovering. “You clean up pretty well too.”

He smiles. “I was in sweatpants twenty minutes ago.”

“Same.”

“You still on contracts?” he asks as we walk toward his car.

“Yeah. You?”

“Civ pro today.”

I groan, and Pres’s grin grows.

The drive to the bar is filled with easy conversation, no lags or lurches.

That’s the thing with Prescott—sometimes, it is easy. Weareeasy—for him. Prior to our argument about Martha’s Vineyard, I can’t remember the last time we fought. We were platonic friends for over two years before he asked me out on a date.

It makes me feel foolish—for craving challenge, for creating problems in my own head simply because uncomplicated seems wrong and boring. Wrong can be unfamiliar. Boring can be reassuring.

We’re last to arrive at The Adams Club. Keira, Juliet, and Gavin are all gathered at one end of the bar, right by the hostessstand. I give Keira and Juliet hugs, then reintroduce myself to Gavin. I’ve only met him once before.

Keira flashes me a subtle thumbs-up as she talks to Prescott. I’m pretty sure he sees, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter for a few seconds before he regains his composure.

We place drink orders, eyeing tables that look like they might open up soon, when Keira suddenly calls, “Tuck!”

We all turn to watch Tucker look this way. His face lights up with a smile as soon as he spots Keira. My stomach sinks as soon as I see who he’s with.

“I guess they travel everywhere as a couple now,” Juliet whispers to me. “Keira’s third-wheeling in her own relationship.”

I manage a smile, feeling faintly nauseous.

I’m positive Tucker dragged Ryder here. He appears highly uncomfortable, looking around at all the mahogany and brass this place is decorated with. At the elegant woman playing piano while wearing an evening gown. This is everything he hates—ritzy and overpriced and pretentious.

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