Seeing Meadow taking in the sights of Vegas like it’s literally from another time is almost heartbreaking.
Cedar moves to what I’m now noticing is a very well-stocked bar cart. “Drinks? I’ve got pretty much everything. I knowIneed another one.”
“What’s your poison?” Phoenix asks me.
But the truth is, I don’t really know. It’s not that I haven’t had alcohol. I live with bikers. It’s just that I haven’t had enough to know what Ireallylike yet.
“Surprise me,” I opt for, settling onto the enormous couch that faces the windows. “But make it strong. This night calls for celebration.”
“Two of whatever you’re having,” Phoenix tells Cedar. “And make them doubles.”
What Cedar makes us turns out to be some kind of whiskey cocktail that goes down smooth, but packs a serious punch. By the time we’re halfway through our second round, I feel the alcohol settling warm in my chest, making everything seem brighter and more possible.
“These are dangerous,” I tell Cedar, holding up my glass, my head swirling already, considering we had wine with dinner too.
“The best drinks always are,” he replies with a grin, clearlyfeeling the effects himself. Meadow is already giggling at everything, her cheeks flushed pink as she disappears into another room, then comes back with what appears to be a vintage speaker shaped like a jukebox. “Music! We need music for a proper celebration.”
“What are we celebrating again?” Phoenix asks, accepting a glass from Cedar.
“Love!” Meadow declares, as if it’s obvious. “And friendship. And the beautiful synchronicity that brought us all together again.”
She starts scrolling through what must be the most eclectic playlist in existence. I catch glimpses of everything from The Beatles to Dolly Parton to some meditation music with whale sounds. Finally, she settles on something upbeat but not overwhelming, and the whole room seems to relax into the rhythm.
“Oh, wait, I love this song,” Meadow suddenly exclaims as an Elvis tune starts playing. “A Little Less Conversation” fills the room with that classic soul and funk beat that’s impossible not to move to.
“So,” Cedar says, settling into an armchair across from us. “How long have you two been together?”
Phoenix and I exchange a look. It’s such a simple question, but the answer is anything but.
“It’s complicated,” I say finally.
“The best love stories usually are,” Cedar replies, and there’s something in his voice that makes me think he knows a thing or two about complicated love stories.
“Complicated is just another word for interesting,” Meadow adds, curling up next to Cedar’s chair. “Tell us everything! How did you meet? When did you know?”
“Meadow,” Cedar warns gently.
“What? Love stories are the most beautiful kind of stories.And these two have such intense energy. I can practically see the connection sparking between them.”
She’s not wrong.
Even sitting here in this ridiculous penthouse with people we barely know, I’m hyperaware of Phoenix beside me. The way his thigh presses against mine when he leans forward to set down his drink. The way his hand finds mine automatically when Meadow asks about our‘love story.’The way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.
“We’ve known each other for a while,” Phoenix says carefully. “But we just recently figured out what was happening between us.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Meadow claps her hands together. “The best relationships are the ones that grow from friendship, don’t you think, Cedar?”
“Absolutely,” Cedar agrees, but there’s something sad in his eyes as he says it. I wonder if he’s thinking about Luke and Selene, about the relationship that was cut short by tragedy.
“You know what we should do?” Meadow jumps up suddenly, swaying slightly as the alcohol hits her. Her eyes are bright with mischief and maybe three strong cocktails. “Truth or dare!”
Phoenix immediately shakes his head, though the gesture is a bit looser than usual. “Oh, no. Absolutely not!”
Chapter Nineteen
CLOVER
“Why not?” I ask, surprised by how the words seem to float out of my mouth. Everything feels softer around the edges now, more possible.
