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I’m so tempted to crawl onto that bed to be with him in whatever way that I can. But the more I stare at him, the more my heart fumbles in my chest over the idea of losing him to her, losing him before I even had him, the more I realize that there’s nothing I can do to stop any of this.

Maybe it’s destiny.

I gulp, my stomach in knots, wanting to say something else to him.

But I don’t know what, and I think he’s actually asleep right now from the way his back is rising and falling.

So I quickly change out of my shirt into a fresh flowy white one that shows off what modest cleavage I have, grab my purse, and I head out the door.

I don’t go far. Even though it’s winter, it’s humid as hell, hot even, and I still don’t know how far away from Max I should go before it affects him. So I find a quaint bar around the corner from the hotel and order a Bloody Mary, totally expecting to get turned down because I don’t have ID.

But the bartender serves me anyway, so I take a seat at the bar and just take in the sights and sounds of the city. The other side of the bar is a window where you can just walk up from the outside and get a drink to go, and holy shit, this town is going to be the death of me.

I’m about two-and-a-half Bloody Marys in when Max texts me, wondering where I am, and I swear I can hear the panic on the screen. I tell him the bar, and a minute later he strolls on in, ducking slightly as he goes through the door. This city isn’t built for those who are six foot four.

I stare at him for a moment, a moment where I pretend he’s mine and he’s meeting me here for a date and for that moment I’m shot up with giddiness. Helps that he’s looking extra dashing, full of sex and swagger, with his hair styled back off his face, wearing boots, dark-grey jeans, a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his forearms, the first two buttons undone, the collar having a pointy western flair.

And then my heart absolutely sinks when I realize why he’s made such an effort to look extra hot.

It’s not for me.

It’s for Rose.

“There you are,” he says to me, sliding onto the stool next to me, his presence so wonderfully overwhelming after being apart from him. He smells like pine and cinnamon and I’m instantly brought back to New Year’s Eve when I forbade him from kissing me. Oh, if I could go back in time.

He eyes the drink. “I see you’re getting by without me.”

I manage a smile. “Maybe I have my own voodoo magic.”

“That you do,” he says, eyes briefly resting on my chest before he looks at the bartender. “I’ll have the same as the lady. Then we’re going to leave and not pay the bill.”

“Got it,” the bartender says with a smile, and gets to making the drink.

I shake my head at him. “It’s been a while. I’ve missed that.”

“Feels like a special occasion.”

“Well, you’re dressed for one.”

He looks down at his shirt. “This old thing?”

“What I’m trying to say is, you look good.”

“Thanks,” he says. He starts tapping his foot against the floor.

“Nervous?”

He nods. “Yeah. Guess I am. Nap did me some good though. Feel like I’ve got my head on straight for once.”

“You might be the only person in this town who hasn’t lost their head. Did you know they serve alcohol here to go?”

He laughs softly. “Yes. I know. It’s dangerous.”

“It’s awesome is what it is,” I say, taking a long sip of my drink just as the bartender hands him his. “Well, cheers.” I raise my glass, making sure to look deep in his eyes as I clink my drink against his.

“Cheers, sweetheart,” he tells me, his gaze pinning me in place, causing my skin to feel overheated, and it’s not just the humidity.

I turn my head away from him and finish the rest of my drink in one sip.

“Ada,” he warns.

“What?” I say. “I’ll just get one to go.”

“There is such thing as too many Bloody Marys,” he says, though he’s making quick work of his. “And, knowing you, the minute you come across a hand grenade you’re going to want to drink that. I’m telling you now that you shouldn’t.”

“Oooh, a hand grenade. Now that sounds dangerous. I can’t wait.”

I clap my hands, smiling gleefully.

But it’s all an act.

Because I’m just pretending that I’m fine.

I’m not.

I’m really not.

I’m worried as hell about what’s going to happen when we find Rose.

If she takes him back, do I have to see that? I think it would break me, to be honest.