I don’t think he means anything in particular by it—certainly not that he’s privy to the awkward way Darren and I had left things a week ago—but I can’t do much more than nod and kiss him on the cheek the way he usually kisses me.
“I’m glad I made it, too,” I say, sliding onto my stool. I greet Adrian and Noah, and accept the beer Darren leaves for me with his usual wink and smile, watching as he goes to pour drinks for someone else a moment later. “How much did I miss?”
V walks by just as I ask, and she offers a grin I return before she’s gone again, maybe to help Riley at the far end of the bar. Adrian and Noah are turned to face each other, back to whatever chat I might’ve interrupted, so it’s Beau who takes a long pull from his bottle and answers.
“Overpour started the night, and—”
“Overpour?” I interrupt.
“Quite the name for a bar band, huh?” he chuckles. “They’ve played already—basic country pop sung by a guy who looked like he’d cover Johnny Cash—but everyone here seemed to have a good time, and the band’s shootin’ pool now.”
“Is that Supine?” I ask, nodding toward the stage.
“Nope, that’s Happily Never After. Bit of an edge to them, and allegedly the bass player used to be married to the drummer and the keyboardist—one at a time, not a whole threesome thing—but they just started playin’, so we’ll see how it goes.”
“There’s a bit of an edge to their name, too,” I say. “I guess after two divorces they’re not big on fairy tales.”
“Some people aren’t meant to live one, right?” Darren asks, his return to us expected, though the timing throws me.
Noah snorts as he turns toward us, too. “I can’t even get past the first chapter.”
“And plenty of stories are over before they should be,” Adrian adds. “Maybe those endings would’ve been happier with a little more time.”
I’m sure he’s referring to himself as much as anyone, all of us aware of how Adrian’s long-term relationship ended before he and Beau found their way together. Still, no amount of Guinness is helping me wash down anything I could say about Michelle—or Darren, if I let myself imagine impossible, unwanted things—and I turn my focus to a band I suddenly dislike for no logical reason. At least I can be grateful for the distraction it provides.
It works right up until I notice a man sitting within arm’s reach of Riley, a cocky grin on his face and familiar dimples visible from this far away. He’s at least a few years older than I am, but his gray-blond hair looks good on him, even while his tired eyes give other secrets away. There are a few people crowded nearby, and one jumble of mischief and curls laughing loudly next to him, but I hide a frown behind my glass when I take a sip. I dislike this man more than I’d disliked Happily Never After, but I think it’s perfectly logical this time, and I can’t help but shift my gaze to the beautiful son he'd abandoned without ever attempting to bea father.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I was just wondering the same thing about you,” Darren says as softly as he can in a loud bar, both of us confirming that the other three are busy talking before he goes on. “Running late, getting upset by what Adrian said, glaring at my father—maybe you should’ve stayed home.”
“You’re rescinding my invitation?”
“Absolutely not. To answer your question, I’ve been better ever since you walked in.”
I glance to my side and back again. “Do they know about him yet?”
“Nope. I asked Riley to lure Drew and Supine to their side so I could have some time to figure my shit out,” Darren explains.
“You’re already one band into the night, and Beau’s finished a couple of beers. Is time really the problem?”
Darren stares at me for a few seconds, his expression as neutral as I’ve ever seen it, but then a couple at the end of the bar waves him over for another round, and I pretend I care about the music again. Someone on stage is singing about lost love, and across the bar, Riley is busy pouring a drink. I’m content to watch them move, everything about them a reliably graceful break from chaos, but it’s not long before I realize I’m not the only one seeking something calm. A head of curls turns to track each easy move, and I wonder whether whatever had captivated Riley last week might have been a mutual thing.
“You.”
I startle more than I should, and I blink up at Darren. “Me?”
“I was waiting for you before I told them. I wanted you here.”
“Me?” I say again.
He rolls his eyes. “You’re smarterandwiser than I am. Don’t fuck with me now.”
“Never,” I promise, looking past him to the back of Riley’s head and a smiling stranger with curls and the empty spot where Darren’s father had been. I assume he’s gone to the restroom, or maybe to fetch something for the band, but we’re dealing with a ticking clock one way or another, so I reach for Beau’s shoulder and pat him there until he turns. “Sorry to interrupt, but Darren has something to tell you—all three of you.”
V returns then, several empty bottles and glasses in her hands after a sweep of the room. “Unclench, boys. He’s fine. He just needs his friends.”
“Yeah, no, I—” Darren pauses for a deep breath, and then checks for thirsty customers like they’ll give him a way out.