I’m miserable, and it’s all my fault. And isn’t that a really sucky reality? The knowledge that I let my hopes and dreams—my future—slip through my fingers and into the arms of a stunning brunette because I was so caught up in the past that I was blind to the present . . .

It. Effing. Sucks.

I had myself so convinced that Drake only wanted me for a little boot-knocking fun that I built the walls around my heart so damn thick and strong, and they were pretty much impenetrable. The man straight up told me he loved me, and he definitely showed it through his actions, and now, he’s someone else’s.

Cue the anger, because my God, it sure didn’t take him long to rebound. I’ve spent the last week since seeing him with his . . . whatever she is . . . at Trattoria going through the motions at work and coming straight home to sulk. How pathetic am I?

No. This isn’t me. I’m not some weak little girl who crumbles when life doesn’t go her way. I’m a fucking fighter, and I’m ready for the next round.

It’s time to break out of this melancholic funk I’ve been in since Thanksgiving. Snatching my phone from the end of my bed, I dial Seraphine. “Hello there, AzzyJo,” she chirps into the phone.

“Seraphine, please tell me you’re free tonight?”

“Free as a bird. Why, what’s up?”

“Let’s go out!” I tell her, bouncing in my seat, excited by the prospect of getting my groove back, so to speak.

“For real? You really wanna go out?” I tell her I do, and she squeals into the phone. “Awesome! Can I invite the girls?”

“Of course you can. Hopefully, Myles can get a sitter.”

“We’ll see. I’ll text you and let you know. Let’s meet at Big O’s around eight thirty?”

“See you then!” I tell her, tossing my phone back down onto the bed. This calls for primping, because Lord knows, if I’m going to step foot back into the bar where Drake and I fell apart, I’m gonna look my best doing it. And you know, after the last few weeks, I’m looking rough.

* * *

I pull up to Big O’s ten minutes early and make my way inside to grab us a table. The bar is already bustling with people, and I’m ready for a good time—ready to forget for a while.

Not even seven minutes later, Magnolia and Seraphine plop down into chairs next to me. “Myles can’t make it,” Seraphine says as she signals for a waitress.

“Figured she wouldn’t be able to.”

“What can I get you ladies?” our server asks in a bored tone.

I order a vodka and cranberry, Magnolia orders a glass of white wine, and Seraphine orders a Shirley Temple, what with her being well under twenty-one.

Our waitress walks off, and Seraphine immediately redirects our conversation. “So, not that I’m not happy you’re finally out of your sad shell, but why the sudden change?”

“I’m still sad. Probably will be for a while, but crying into my pillow won’t change shit. I want Drake back, and we’re gonna figure out a plan.” Magnolia looks worried by my words, but Seraphine breaks out into an almost evil smile.

“Oh, yes, let’s scheme!” We pause as our drinks are delivered. “Okay, so do you have an idea in mind?”

“No,” I tell her honestly. I take a sip of vodka cranberry, my lips puckering at the tartness.

“What about . . .” She taps her finger on her bottom lip a few times before her eyes go wide.

“What? Did you think of something?” I ask, smacking my palms down onto the table.

“Uh, no.” Her eyes move from mine to the doorway, flitting nervously. “Don’t freak out or anything, but Drake is here.”

“And he’s not alone,” Magnolia adds, taking a quick sip of her wine before making a sour face.

“What?” My breath whooshes out of me like someone’s squeezing my lungs.

“Yeah, he’s with some leggy brunette,” Seraphine tells me, and I already know it’s the same girl he was with when I ran into him. The girl who’s everything I’m not and who has everything I want.

Slowly, I twist around in my seat, my eyes instantly finding him. I fight back the tears when I see his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to a table smack-dab in the middle of the bar. The kind of table you sit at to be seen.

I can’t help but watch them, even though I want nothing more than to look away. Especially when his eyes lock onto mine and he lowers his lips to her ear, whispering God knows what while staring right at me.

It’s like a damn train wreck, dark and painful, but I can’t look away.

She throws her head back and laughs at whatever he just whispered to her, and I swear to God, I can feel my heart crumbling in my chest. Sam Hunt hit the nail on the head with “Break Up in a Small Town.”

He eventually looks away from me to focus on his date, twirling a lock of hair around his fingers while listening intently to what she’s saying to him.

“You know you’re totally hotter than she is, right?” Seraphine asks, pulling me from my self-induced torture.

I snort. “Sure, okay. In what universe?”

“In this one. The one where that man has loved you since he was sixteen years old.”

“Seraphine—”

“No, you listen to me. Y’all both made some really dumb choices, and y’all communicate about as well as toddlers, but I know he loves you and that you love him. So, forget that he’s over there parading around some rebound, because we both know that’s all she is. We’re gonna order another round, and come up with a foolproof plan to win you back your man.”

Seraphine hops down from her tall chair and heads straight to the bar, which makes me laugh, because the only thing she can order is her own drink. “I guess I’ll go with her,” I say to Mags.

“No, you sit. I’ll go. I really just want a water this time around.”

“Hey, Mags, why do you always order wine when we go out and never drink more than a sip or two?”

She shrugs her shoulders and mumbles something about old habits dying hard before walking over to the bar to help Seraphine.

Alone, with no distraction, my eyes slip back over to Drake and his date, and once again, he’s looking right at me. Only this time, he nudges his date, and she looks over at me too. The three of us are locked in the most awkward stare-down ever, until finally, she winks at me before leaning in and pressing a swift kiss to his cheek.

The sight of her lips on him burns like acid in my veins. I slam back the remnants of my drink in one gulp, and when Seraphine and Magnolia return to the table with fresh drinks in hand, I swallow that one down in two.

“Whoa, girl, let’s slow down,” Seraphine murmurs, her voice soft and sympathetic. I glare at her, but it does nothing. “Don’t look at me like that, AzzyJo. The way I see it, you have two options. You can be Ms. Mopey Moperson, or we can get back to work on figuring up a way for you to win him back.”

I turn to look at Drake one last time, only to find they’re no longer at their table. Manically, I scan the room, my eyes finally settling on them as they sway and dip and roll together like they’ve done it a million times before on the dance floor.

“Look at them,” I tell Seraphine and Magnolia. “Do I even stand a chance? Look at how happy he looks.”

“Just because a person is smiling, doesn’t mean they’re happy,” Magnolia cryptically mumbles into her glass.

“Mags, one day, you’re gonna open up to me about what went down in Charleston,” Seraphine tells her cousin, who’s already shaking her head in refusal. “Don’t worry, I don’t mean tonight. Right now, we need to scheme.”

Magnolia lets out a relieved breath now that the spotlight has shifted back to me and my man-troubles. “I’m all for scheming, but can we do it somewhere else? I think I might die if I have to see him touch her one more time.”

The girls agree, and we all weave our way through the crowd to the bar to pay, since it seems our waitress has ghosted on us. We’re patiently waiting for the bartender to make her way down to us when I feel him. Not physically, but his presence. Discreetly, I roll my eyes up to my left, and sure enough, there he is, right beside me, his date in tow.

“Good evenin’, Azalea,” he says, smiling just enough for that small, sexy gap in his front teeth to show. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce y’all the other week, but this is Kasey. Kasey, this is Azalea. We went to high school together.” We went to high school together? That’s it?

“Drake Collins,” Seraphine spits, saving me from having to reply. “I’d say it’s nice to see you, but this time, I don’t think I’d mean it. You have a nice night.” She loops one arm around me and the other around Magnolia, swiveling us toward the exit.

“It was a real pleasure meetin’ y’all,” Kasey yells toward our retreating backs—salt in the wound and whatnot.