The pounding bass and bodies writhing on the dance floor didn’t give me any of the usual thrill I felt when I walked into a club. I nodded distractedly to Riley’s brother, Mark, when he waved to me from behind the bar, but my focus was on the booth we’d sat at the last time we were here. A group of women crowded around it. They all wore sashes over their dresses that declared them bridesmaids. They had a row of shots lined up in front of them, and their big smiles and glassy eyes told me this wasn’t their first round.

My gaze drifted to the spot where I’d danced, knowing Low was watching. It took nothing to remember how his gaze had burned through me, and I wished I could go back. But looking at things through rose-coloured glasses wasn’t going to get me anywhere, was it? Low and his misguided need to protect me from himself had always been a major barrier between us. But at least back then there’d been hope. Right now, I felt pretty hopeless.

I pulled myself out of the memory and scanned the bar. If he was here, that’s where he’d be, not reminiscing like I was. I couldn’t see the far end of the room with the amount of people in the way, so I pushed through, my heart thumping quicker every time I noticed a tall, dark-haired guy who even remotely resembled Low. I pulled up short when I hit the opposite wall. No Low.

“Reese?” The familiar voice came from behind me and when I turned around, Jamison was sitting by himself at the end of the bar, nursing a tumbler full of dark liquid.

“Oh, hey, Jam.”

His eyes were as glassy as the bridesmaids’ had been.

“Come sit?” He patted the empty barstool beside him.

I scanned the room once more, but nothing had changed. Low wasn’t here. A wave of exhaustion rolled through me and combined with the stress and anger of the last few hours, an empty seat and a glass of wine suddenly seemed like a great idea.

I slid onto the barstool and asked the bartender for a drink before I turned to Jamison. I wanted to ask him what he was doing here, but he beat me to it with questions of his own.

“So you didn’t find him, then?”

I shook my head. “I’ve checked his place, and I just broke into the stables at work because I thought he’d be there for sure. But nope.”

Jamison shook his head and let out a low whistle. “Shit. He got bad news at the doctors today, didn’t he?”

I froze. “He told you about that?”

Jamison nodded, and I let out a long breath. Not having the sole responsibility of knowledge made all of this a little easier to bear.

“Any other ideas where he might be?”

Jamison brought his glass to his lips and swallowed before he answered. “He runs when he’s stressed. But I don’t know that he’d go any place in particular.”

My shoulders slumped, and I twisted the stem on my wine glass, watching as the pale yellow liquid sloshed around. “I’m all out of ideas. This was my last resort.” I sighed. “What are you doing here tonight, anyway? Did you come alone?”

He nodded. “I had a really shitty day.”

“Bet you can’t top mine. Low broke up with me via text message.”

“I walked in on Bree and some guy having sex in her apartment.”

My eyes grew wide. “Holy shit. What did you do?”

“Turned around, walked out, and came here.”

I tucked my arm beneath his and hugged it to me briefly, since I couldn’t give him a proper hug while we were sitting next to each other. “You’re so calm. I probably would have punched the guy in the face.” I didn’t voice that I’d also like to punch Bree. That callous bitch. Jamison was one of the sweetest guys I’d ever met. He didn’t deserve this.

He laughed and held his drink up a little. “These help.”

My heart went out to him. The pain in his eyes made me wince and even though I could tell he was putting on a brave front, he’d obviously had his heart smashed to pieces.

The bartender came back and we both ordered another drink, pushing cash across the bar into his waiting hands.

“Well, we’re quite the pair tonight, aren’t we? Low broke up with you in a text message? I think you win the shitty day contest.”

I shook my head. “No way, you’re being generous. You walked in on your Mrs. cheating. That’s worse than a text message breakup, no doubt. Plus, we’ve only been together a few weeks…” I shrugged, but tears pricked at my eyes and I blinked furiously for a moment to keep them in check.

“Doesn’t hurt any less, though, huh?”

Tears under control, I glanced up at him. “No, it doesn’t. I thought… I know it sounds lame, but I thought this was something special.”

“Then fight for it.”

“Oh, I intend to. But that’s easier said than done when I can’t find him and he won’t answer his phone.”

“So you’re stuck here drinking with me, huh?”

“I’d rather drink with you than drink alone.”

“Cheers to that.” Jamison held up his glass and I clinked mine together with his. “Here’s to shitty days and drinking to forget about them.”

“I’ll drink to that,” I murmured before downing the rest of my glass.