Page 47 of Not Another Yesterday
“Yeah, that and the fact that you came back home with a giant fucking hickey on your neck,” Vada says so drily—and unexpectedly—that instead of sipping his drink, Zack inhales the liquid and begins coughing violently.
“I did not!” Steve grumbles, clapping his best friend’s back in a half-hearted attempt to aid his intake of oxygen while both Tori and Summer screech with delight.
“Actually, you did,” I giggle.
“Traitor,” Steve throws at me, making me laugh out loud. “I thought you of all people would have my back, Cat. Guess I was wrong about you.” He tsks loudly, then folds his arms over his chest.
“Case in point!” Ronan shouts at his brother. “E-fucking-vasive.”
Steve looks anywhere but at Ronan.
“Stop the bullshit,” Ronan says with a chuckle. “We all know you’re seeing someone.”
“Come on, Stevie,” I say. “Why aren’t you telling us about her?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve says, still refusing to make eye contact with, well, anyone.
“Holy shit, dude, at this point she better be married with three kids and a mafia boss husband,” Shane says.
Everyone’s eyes are on Steve, looking for the tells he’s unable to hide, try as he might.
I bump him with my shoulder and smile. “If we promise not to ask for specifics, will you at least tell us whether you’re seeing someone?”
There’s a long moment of silence—well, as silent as it gets, considering we’re in a crowded Irish pub with hundreds of patrons loudly talking and singing along to the music playing on the speakers. It’s honestly a surprise the eight of us are still managing to hold a decent conversation.
Steve exhales deeply, his shoulders sagging. “Fine. Yes, I’m seeing someone.”
Zack chuffs in offense. “Are you serious? You fuck, why haven’t you fucking told me?”
“Sorry man, it’s just… it’s still really, really new and… it’s…” Steve trails off, but his eyes snap to his little brother, a dark determination hardening his face. Something settles in his jaw, and his voice lowers. “Stop, Ran. I can already see it in your face that you’re trying to figure this out, okay? I know you’re trying to read me and shit, and I’m asking you right now, as your brother, to please respect me when I ask you not to. All I’m willing to share with you guys right now is that there’s a girl. I’ll even tell you that her name is Ember and that, yes, I’m fucking head over heels for her, but that’s all you’re getting right now. If you love me at all, Ran, please don’t prod, don’t… think. Don’t do the thing where you piece the puzzle together, okay? I promise, I’ll tell you everything once I’m ready. But that’s not now, so… please.”
Ronan’s expression mirrors his brother’s, his brow and jaw set. I too can practically see Ronan’s wheels spinning, his eyes narrowing as his gaze drills into Steve’s head.
“Yep, definitely a mafia husband,” Shane concludes with a chuckle.
“Fine,” Ronan grits out. “I do love you, and I—” He pulls his phone from his back pocket. It buzzes in his hand, and his expression neutralizes.
“You’re not doing anything dangerous though, right?” Zack asks Steve, visibly upset at his best friend’s failure to tell him about this new girl.
Ronan leans toward me, his lips close to my ear. Goosebumps erupt down my neck and back with the warmth of his breath feathering against my skin. “I’ll be right back. It’s Randi.” He places a soft kiss on my temple.
He turns and begins to walk away from the table I’m occupying with Steve, Vada, Tori, Summer, and Zack.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Shane calls after Ronan, who just points at his phone. “Break’s over in five minutes, Ran!”
There he goes, leaving me to talk to Miranda in private. Again.
I hate that this is starting to feel familiar.
Ronan
“Hey there, Rony,” Miranda says. “Happy New Year!”
“Yeah, you too! How come you’re awake?” I ask her, pushing open the steel backdoor to Murphy’s to step into the narrow alley behind the building. It’s the quietest place I could think of.
Murphy’s is always lively, but occasions like New Year’s, St. Patrick’s Day, and the Super Bowl and Stanley Cup games are a whole different level of crazy. It’s still noisy out here with the sounds of typical New York traffic and the bangs of distant fireworks exploding in the night sky, but at least I can understand Miranda without changing the call to a video conference and attempting to read her lips.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Miranda says.
