Page 96 of Not Another Yesterday
I don’t move. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m drunk on her. “Hey,” I say, still clutching my shirt like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the floor. Her gaze flicks to my bare chest for the briefest second, then her cheeks flush. It makes the corners of my mouth twitch, but I rein in the selfish thrill. She still feels something, and as much as it kills me, it also sparks a dangerous flicker of hope: that maybe I haven’t completely suffocated what once was.
“How was your flight?” I ask, stupidly. Really, I just want to hear her voice again. One more second of her.
“Really good,” she says sweetly.
Fuck, I want her back.
I open my mouth, but don’t get the chance to respond.
“You ready to go, Cat?” my brother calls from down the hall.
Cat turns her head toward his voice, then looks back at me, her eyes full of emotion. “I’ll see you in a little bit?”
Am I imagining things, or do I hear a note of hope?
I nod. “Yeah.”
She flashes me the tiniest, shyest smile, then walks out of my sight.
I exhale deeply, trying to shed the tension gripping my shoulders. God, I need to find a way to talk to her alone before the day is over. I can’t hold off much longer.
Cat
Steve chauffeurs me to Sterling’s. I’m seated in the backseat next to Elias while his dad, Thomas, rides up front, barking directions at Steve—who keeps reminding him that he used to live here. It makes me giggle, and for a few blissful minutes I don’t think about that brief, heart-stopping encounter with Ronan.
But only five minutes after I sit down at the long, buffet-style table already occupied by Frank, Penny, Seamus, my parents, Frank’s sister, and his brother-in-law, the doors to Sterling’s open and in step Shane and Tori, followed by Ronan and—I swallow—Miranda.
It’s like my heart has a GPS locked on Ronan and doesn’t care that it’s supposed to be in recovery. Doesn’t care that he shattered it. It thuds traitorously in my chest, fast and desperate, and all I’ve done is look at him.
He’s laughing at something Miranda says—soft, natural, completely unguarded—and I feel the ache of missing him settle intomy bones, just like it did an hour ago. Not just the boyfriend part of him, buthim. The version who used to know how to make me laugh when I didn’t want to. The version I used to trust with all the quiet, crumpled parts of me.
He hasn’t seen me yet. Good. I need a second. Maybe five.
I force my gaze away and inhale deeply, squaring my shoulders like armor. Tonight is about celebrating Penny and Frank. Tonight, I’ll pretend I’m fine. Pretend I don’t want to memorize the way he looks at me like I’m the only girl in the whole world. Because tonight, Ronan doesn’t get to know that he still owns my heart. Doesn’t get to know I’m still desperately, unconditionally in love with him.
I notice Ronan take a seat at the opposite end of the table, as far away from me as possible. I’m simultaneously elated and hurt.This is so confusing.Tori, however, plops down in the wooden chair next to me, her face alive. I’m so glad I have her, and Shane, and Steve. Their presence softens the sharpest sting of my separation from Ronan. At least a little.
“Hey,” she sing-songs, squeezing me quickly while Shane nods at me from catty-corner across the table—right next to his best friend. Miranda sits on Ronan’s other side. Of course, I notice.
“Hey,” I say, my eyes locked past her, watching Miranda. There’s an ease between her and Ronan, undeniable chemistry. Her face lights up when she looks at him. She’s angled toward him, smile unwavering, her posture open and familiar. Even a stranger would be able to tell that the two share a history. Maybe even a present. My heart squirms.
Tori follows my gaze, then looks squarely at me. “Cat?”
I jerk my eyes to her. “What?”
“They’re not a thing,” she says calmly. “Not a thing.” I can’t decode the smile dancing in her eyes—whether it’s amusement or reassurance.
My shoulders sag with relief. He may not be in love with me anymore, but at least he’s also not in love withher. I don’t think I could handle seeing Ronan be affectionate with her. It would crush me.
“Hey, Randi,” Ronan’s and Steve’s aunt Erin calls from the other end of the table, snapping Miranda—and everyone else—to attention. I take the chance to look at Ronan unabashedly, drinking him in. Those beautiful, masculine features. His full lips and green eyes that always have a way of looking directly into my soul.
“Yeah?” Miranda calls, a bright smile on her pretty face.
“Why don’t you get up on that stage and sing something?”
Miranda’s gaze drifts to the small, currently unoccupied stage. “Sure!” She pushes up from her chair without a second thought. Jeez, if someone had asked me to randomly perform on a stage in front of everyone, I would’ve turned beet red and bolted for the nearest exit. Miranda, on the other hand, looks like she was born for this.
“Hey, Reagan,” Miranda calls to the young woman delivering round after round of tequila shots. The tip of my mom’s nose is already pink, like it gets when she’s had a little too much to drink. “Mind if I get up there?”
