Page 140 of Older

It was only a few hours.

I could pretend.

But it was damn hard to pretend I was immune to the way my blood heated with possessiveness and nauseating jealousy when I discovered Scotty seated at the dining room table next to Halley, his shoulder pressed to hers, his enamored eyes on her flushed profile as she sipped a glass of water.

I sat across from her. Tried desperately to avoid her glassy-eyed glances and soft laughter that seeped into all of my vulnerable pockets. I tuned out their conversation, ignored his arm slung around her, and blocked out every sound, movement, and stolen look, until everything around me turned to static.

Only when Tara jabbed her elbow into my ribs, did I tear through my self-built bubble and plaster a smile on my face. “What was that?”

“How much wine have you had?” she griped.

I looked at my glass. It was empty, but I didn’t remember taking a single sip.

Not enough.

“Just a glass. Sorry, work is on the brain.”

Whitney sat at the end of the table, sipping her own glass of Merlot. “Tara was just telling us about her first client.”

“Client?” I blinked at my daughter, feeling terrible for zoning out.

She beamed with pride. “My friend Chrissy is a bridesmaid in her sister’s wedding. She hired me to do her hair and makeup. Fifty bucks.”

“A paid fucking gig?”

“Reed.” Whitney shot me a warning glare. “Plenty of adjective alternatives.”

I didn’t care. I was fucking proud. “That’s incredible, Squirt. I’m fucking proud.”

“Reed,” Whitney scolded.

Tara and Halley both laughed before Tara continued. “Yep. And Halley’s getting paid, too. She’s photographing the wedding.”

My head twisted toward Halley who was gulping down the glass of ice water, her skin turning pink. “Yeah?” Then I cleared my throat, worried the word had fallen out too soft, too intimate. “That’s awesome, Comet. Proud of you both.”

A beat of silence washed over the table, and it took several more stretched-out beats for me to realize why. I looked at Tara, catching her furrowed brow of confusion while feeling Whit’s eyes on me from the other end of the table.

“Comet?” Tara scrunched up her nose.

Shit.

Fucking-shit-fuck.

I did everything in my power to prevent myself from choking on nothing.

“Uh…yeah. Like Halley’s Comet,” I said, playing it off the best I could. On the inside, my ribcage was trying to smother me. “You’re Squirt, and she’s Comet.”

“Gotcha.” Tara bobbed her head, accepting the answer.

Halley sunk lower in her chair, her cheeks staining with more color as she avoided eye contact with me and stared down at her hand clasped around the glass.

“Huh. Cute.” Whitney honed in on her wine as she swirled it in aimless circles. “So, Halley, are you and Scotty officially together?”

I fidgeted in my seat and scratched the back of my neck, cursing the idiotic slip. Tara was oblivious, but I knew Whit’s tells. I was going to be interrogated, and the anxiety was nibbling away at my sanity. Wishing I could zap more wine into my empty glass with mind voodoo and desperation, I glanced across the table at Halley as she latched onto the redirection.

I was also pathetically eager to hear her response.

“Um, nothing too serious.” Her eyes shimmered with apology as she peered over at Scotty. “We’re just having fun.”