Prick, I thought.
Though in fairness, I’d pried just now. But only a little. It wasn’t entirely my fault that I wasn’t caught up on Iain Thorn. What made him tick or what didn’t. The man had been an important figure in my life for the majority of my adolescence and then he disappeared into thin air, never to speak to me again. And the few times I’d gotten the nerve to ask Adam about him, he’d be vague in his distinctly Adam way.
So how was I supposed to know what I should or shouldn’t ask?
I shifted in my seat, just sitting there as Brooke went on and on with Iain—something about how sad she was that she wasn’t working the event he threw recently, and how she heard “the boys” got pretty wild that night.
Whatever. With nothing to do myself, I grabbed the drink menu, absently scanning the cocktail list for a few minutes before Brooke finally turned my way.
“Oh, honey! Did you want a drink?” she cooed.
“Oh.” I paused, thinking briefly about how Iain had only meant to feed me, not take me for drinks. This meal was about practicality, not chatting, which he’d made evident just now with his very curt tone.
I wiggled my lips uncertainly before thinking fuck it. I’d barely started eating, I wanted a drink and if it cleared my conscience, I’d pay for this meal.
“Yes, I’ll go with just a Prosecco, please,” I said brightly, barely getting out my last word before she spoke over me.
“ID please?”
I paused, feeling my polite smile strain into something briefly awkward, because Brooke was already looking elsewhere, grinning big while waving at someone sitting at the bar.
“Sure,” I said as I turned my eyes to Iain, unsure if I was imagining the look of amusement in his eye as he watched me reach into my purse.
When I finally handed over my ID, Brooke carefully studied it.
“Jersey girl, huh?” she grinned as she handed it back.
“Yes, though I just moved recently,” I said, tucking the card back into my wallet. “
I just haven’t changed the address.”
“Aww,” she pouted. “Missing home?”
“Oh, not even a little,” I said so fast I had to laugh. “I just haven’t had the time to go to the DMV.”
Again, Brooke spoke over my last few words, giving me an insincere “aww” before touching Iain’s arm and saying, “You’re getting another round whether you want it or not. Be right back.”
As soon as she was off, Iain spoke.
“No regrets whatsoever?”
I arched an eyebrow. “About moving? Not even one.”
He nodded, quiet for a moment before he asked, “Is your mother speaking to you yet?”
My eyebrows flashed and I paused, surprised by the question for all of a second before I realized that he’d obviously heard about this from Adam.
I guess this is payback, I thought, recognizing that we were going tit for tat on the personal questions.
“No,” I replied, giving my best cold, unfazed look. “She has my dad pass messages along, and sometimes he forgets,” I stated plainly, filtering any bit of emotion from my voice. “Which means I have little to no communication with my mom for the first time in my life, and even though I know she’s probably stewing over me every hour of every day back at home, I can’t bring myself to make it my problem anymore.”
Iain raised his eyebrows. “Cold-blooded,” he remarked.
And it was.
Which he liked. I could tell.
But I still didn’t like it myself. I was still working through the fact that I was actively hurting my mother every day, which was why I felt the need to explain myself slowly bubbling up from my chest.