Page 8 of Forever More

“Oh, come on.” She blushes. “Your house in Los Angeles is probably twenty times bigger than this with a view of the ocean.”

She has a point, but big means nothing. It just means there are more rooms to be empty. More space to make you realize how alone you feel.

I shrug in response as I lean against the railing, my back to the San Francisco skyline, and everything I want to admire standing in front of me. “I’m proud of you. I truly am. I mean, this place is amazing.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.” She sniffles and then turns to make her hands busy as Annie typically does when she’s made to feel on the spot or vulnerable.

“Who would have thought, huh? Two young, crazy kids trying to find our way would make it to where we are right now. Successful. Living our dreams. Making a name for ourselves.”

“Who would’ve thought.” She fidgets some more. Straightens a few pictures on her bookshelf. Moves a pillow on her couch. She’s nervous about something more than me being proud of her.

Oh, fuck.

My gaze goes immediately to her hands. To her fingers. To one finger, searching to make sure there is no shiny damn diamond on it.

My heart stops in my chest until I get a clear view and see that there isn’t one there. That she hasn’t met the love of her life and not told me. That she isn’t lost to me.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” she asks, her eyes narrowed as she stares at me. Probably because I have a pained and relieved look on my own face.

“Sure. Yes. Please.”

Last year

I sneak through the back door of the bar. It’s one we frequent often when we’re in town so the manager knows me well enough to give me some privacy.

That and the hundred dollar bill I slip him when I do, doesn’t hurt either.

But after missing last year’s Evermore-McIntyre-Thanksgiving, there’s no way in hell I’m missing this year’s.

Besides, it’s been way too long since I’ve seen her. And even longer since I’ve been able to sit with someone who knows the old me. Someone who will judge me and harass me and treat me like I’m fucking normal.

But confusion is the name of the game when I turn the corner to find Annie sitting there, a glass of whiskey in her hands, and a smile on her face as she laughs with the man next to her.

Come again?

“Annes?” I say, trying to hide the surprised confusion in my voice.

“Lyric.” She’s on her feet in a second and in my arms the next. “It’s so good to see you. It feels like it’s been forever.”

“Since Rome,” I murmur, holding onto her a little tighter as I worry about what her next words are going to be.

“You look good.” She eyes me up and down, her eyes going to my tattoos to see if there are any new ones. I almost wish I’d inked some more on there so she would find them. So she would notice me. “Lyric, I want you to meet my boyfriend, Richard.”

And there are the words I was dreading hearing.

Richard.

Hmpf.

Maybe we should just cut to the chase and call him Dick.

The smile is forced on my lips as I reach my hand out to the guy in the crisp white dress shirt and the stick up his ass. “Dick? Nice to meet you.”

“No. It’s Richard,” Annie warns as she puts her hand on my forearm and squeezes. “I thought it was time that the two most important guys in my life finally met.”

I feel like I’m swallowing glass as I pick up Annie’s whiskey off the table and help myself to a long sip of it. “Good. Great.” I nod as he shakes my hand. Can’t he get a better grip? “Shall we order more drinks?”

And as we wait for drinks to come, I watch Annie smile at Dick and grit my teeth every time she does.