My best friend is sitting on a stool. He knocks back a shot, his wary gaze on me. Maybe he did see me in the back, but didn't want to blow his dramatic exit by acknowledging me.
"Okay, stop," he says, morose over the tiny glass. "You're leaving tonight, and I don't want to fight."
"Why do you think we're going to fight?"
"Oh, come on. You're here to tell me why I was wrong to act that way to Drew."
"Maybe. Maybe not. You don't know what I'm going to do."
"I know you're on his side."
I sigh and slide onto the empty stool next to his. "Bennie, if I take anyone's side, it'll be yours."
His shoulders slump. "I know. And I know I'm disappointing you."
"You're not. You're worried and maybe a little … apprehensive. I know you better than you think. We grew up together, remember?"
His lips are pressed tight, but he nods.
"I want you to be happy. I do think you should give Drew a chance, even if it's scary. You may regret it if you don't."
"But if it doesn't work out, what will I do?"
I squeeze his shoulder. "You'll pick yourself up and keep going. The Bennie Monsanto I know is no quitter, and he's a survivor."
He turns his torso toward me, his mouth twisting into a rueful smile. "When the hell did you become so insightful?"
"When I decided to be your friend."
The smile he gives me this time is open and radiant. He hugs me tightly, and I put my arms around him. Now it's up to him to decide, and I hope he follows his heart rather than allowing fear to overwhelm him.
"Go to your man," Bennie says, tilting his chin behind me. "He's new and attracting attention. And he looks really uncomfortable."
I look over my shoulder. Sure enough, a few people are introducing themselves, and Lucas is doing his signature aloof reception, his gaze cool and assessing. Shaking my head, I go over to introduce him to everyone. He might believe that being friendly doesn't matter because we're leaving, but I want him to get to meet the people I've hung out with over the last year.
As I get closer, he comes forward and puts an arm around me. We fit together like one of those yin-yang symbols, and I make the introductions.
He thaws a bit and engages in a little small talk. I know he's making an effort for me, and I smile up at him softly as my pulse scatters for a moment.
Am I doing the right thing? Probably. Am I scared? Yes.
But I know if I don't give us one more chance, I'm going to regret it for the rest of my life.
Because my heart? It wants me to follow Lucas.
* * *
Lucas
The farewell party doesn't end until ten p.m. despite the fact that tomorrow is a working day. More than thirty people came, all genuinely sorry to see her go but at the same time thrilled that she has another opportunity opening up.
As we ride in a taxi, speeding toward the airport, I pull her close until she's pressed tightly against my side. "Did you have fun?"
"Yes. Did you?"
"It wasn't as excruciating as I thought it was going to be." I smile into her hair. "Mainly because all those people adore you."
"I'm going to miss them."
Guilt squirms in my chest. I'm taking her away from them because I want her. Not only that, I forced her into this situation.
Am I fucking things up? Will she be all right away from all those people who care so much about her?
I want to believe I'll be enough … but who the hell am I kidding? That's not …
I clench my jaw. I have to get my shit together, become worthy of Ava. Questioning myself isn't the way to go.
"What?" she whispers.
"Hmm?"
"You're tense."
I force a small smile. "Perceptive woman."
She tilts her chin and looks up at me. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Just not looking forward to the long flight." That's the least cause of my discomfiture, but I need to give her something.
"Nobody ever does."
She rests her head on my shoulder. It feels so right to have her lean on me like this.
Don't fuck this up.
I won't. I can't.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ava
The plane lands exactly at eight thirty p.m. Everyone around Lucas seems to devote their lives to making sure his schedule stays uninterrupted. As the jet touches down, he shows me a small black thing.
"Lemme see your phone," he says, his palm up.
"What's that?"
"A new SIM card. I noticed your phone isn't locked, so I got this for you so you can use it in the States." He swaps the cards, takes his phone out and rings someone. My unit vibrates. "I'm saving this into your contact list. It's my personal number and you can call me anytime."
Handing me my phone back, he doesn't comment on the fact that it showed up as an unknown number. I deleted his digits when I left the States. "Still only eight people have this number?"