The Art of Scandal(82)

Nathan huffed a breath. “So now I’m an asshole?”

“You have been kinda dickish lately, Nate,” Dillon said.

Nathan was stunned. Dillon faltered briefly and then cleared his throat. “You’ve been moody. And impatient. Like that night at the drive-in. Then you completely disappeared for weeks—”

“That wasn’t about you guys,” Nathan interrupted. He was kicking himself for being so careless with their friendship. He just lost Rachel. He couldn’t lose them too. “I’m… I’m sorry I did that. Really.”

“Sure, man,” Dillon said, his face creased with concern. “Apology accepted. But tonight you seem stoned or something. You’re here, but you’re not really here.”

Nathan looked at Bobbi for conformation. She nodded, and embarrassment heated Nathan’s neck. He looked away. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll open a tab—see if we can get a few flights.”

“No. Nope.” Dillon shook his head hard enough to dislodge a blond curl from his deep side part. “You did a major art thing and we’re celebrating. I’m paying.” He waved a hand at the bartender, who picked up another pitcher. “Which means we’re stuck with the cheap beer, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“He’s right,” Bobbi said. “You’re about to show your art, with your real name attached. That’s huge!”

Nathan didn’t want congratulations or attention. He wanted things to be the way they were before he’d agreed to do the gala. Before he met Rachel. When he could be a neutral bystander to his friends’ bickering and add an occasional joke to ease the tension. He wanted to go back to being present but not actually seen. “It’s really not a big deal,” Nathan said. He nudged Dillon. “It’s fine, man. I can get the beer.”

“It is a big deal,” Bobbi snapped. “And if he wants to pay, let him pay. Your bank account is not a goddamn superpower.”

“Fine,” he said flatly as he drained the rest of his beer. “I’ll be sure to take advantage.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Dillon slapped Nathan’s back. “See, Bobs? I told you he’d bounce back.”

Nathan looked at Bobbi. “Bounce back from what?”

Bobbi’s chin lifted. “I told him that you probably disappeared because you were seeing someone, and it was serious. And that it might have ended badly.”

Nathan clenched his jaw so tight his teeth ached. It was like Bobbi wanted him to fall apart. Then he’d have to admit that she was right about him all along. Nathan loves Rachel. Nathan isn’t fine. He’s a skin sack of grief pretending to have bones.

“I wasn’t seeing anyone,” he said. The lie was grit in his mouth, and he reached for water, only to find his glass empty. Nathan waved over the server, a cute and curvy woman with dark brown skin, and long braids laced with purple highlights. He ordered tequila shots and looked at her name tag. “Deja. Nice ink.” He pointed to the small tattoo on her wrist.

She smiled. “Thanks, it’s from Larry’s on Third.”

Bobbi groaned and chopped her hand through the air between them. “Enough. You’ve made your point, so turn it off.” She looked at Deja. “Ignore him, please. He’s just been dumped and is throwing a very charming tantrum. He’s not safe for female consumption right now.”

Dillon lifted his hand, doing his best to get Deja’s attention. “I’m totally safe. For consuming.” Deja rolled her eyes and walked away.

Nathan sighed. “I was just being friendly.”

“Oh right,” Bobbi said. “I’ve seen that kind of friendly, and it usually ends with me being Dillon’s wingman after you disappear for the rest of the night.”

“Don’t slut shame him,” Dillon said, and slapped Nathan’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you jumping back in it, Nate. I was getting worried.”

Bobbi folded her arms. “I’m still worried.”

“No one needs to worry about me. I am fine. I sent the pieces off this afternoon. It’s over. Done.” He directed the last bit at Bobbi, with a pointed so shut up about Rachel look. She returned his gaze with a stony I’ve never shut up a day in my life glare.

“I’m just glad it’s all over,” Nathan lied. The truth was he would rewind time if he could. He’d go back to that morning at the lake and fight harder. Say all the right things. Something to make her stay. “Rachel’s the one who has to like it, not me.”

“Rachel?” Dillon wrinkled his nose. “Who’s Rachel?”

“Rachel Abbott,” Bobbi said, her eyes glued to Nathan’s face. “The mayor’s wife.”

“Could you not—” Nathan sighed. “Why does everyone call her that?”

“I suck at names,” Dillon said simply.

Deja brought tequila and shot glasses to their table. She looked up, briefly met his eyes, and flipped her braid behind her shoulder in a clear invitation before walking away. He’d forgotten it could be that easy.

“It’s late,” Bobbi said. She sounded tired, like the effort of holding a grudge was finally taking a toll. “The gala’s tomorrow night. You should rest. I’m sure you’ll have to give a speech or something.”