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tell me something that is obviously causing him pain.
    How far apart we’ve grown.
    “Okay.” I extract my hand and stand. “I’m going to go get you some water. Don’t move.”
    “I won’t.” He grins and my heart turns over.
    I hold my hand out. “Give me your keys.”
    He slides his fingers into his pocket and fishes them out, putting them in my palm without argument.
    “Don’t go anywhere,” I repeat.
    He leans back against the picnic table and crosses his legs at the ankles. “Not moving, baby. Promise.”
    I go to get water, then make my way back to where I left Matt. He’s still there, which surprises me. I honestly expected he’d wander off somewhere the minute he was alone.
    Except he isn’t alone. Jeanine is there, straddling his lap, arms around his neck, mouth plastered to his. Ordinarily, I’d turn around and leave them alone, but not this time.
    This time I’m ticked off and in full mama-bear mode. Matt doesn’t need her tongue down his throat. He needs to sober up so he can drive home safely. I remember the keys in my hand then. Maybe I need to drive him home, make sure he gets there.
    Alone.
    I march over and slap the bottle of water down on the table. It’s enough to make Jeanine jump. She turns glazed eyes to me, and I know she’s about as drunk as Matt. Great.
    “Get off him, Jeanine.”
    Matt grins up at me stupidly. “Hey, Evie-girl. Where’d you go?”
    “Water.” I twist the cap on the bottle and shove it at him. He takes it and slugs some back. Jeanine’s still sitting on his lap, her lower lip thrust out in a pout.
    “Go away, Evangeline. Nobody wants you here.”
    “Not true,” Matt says.
    “Honey,” Jeanine says, turning back to him, “if she stays, we can’t be alone… and I need you alone. I need you so much.”
    I prop a hand on my hip and tell myself that committing violence against Jeanine probably won’t be helpful.
    “I’m sure he needs you too, Jeanine, but not right now. Matt’s daddy called and he has to go home. Immediately. Family emergency.”
    Matt’s gaze narrows, but he doesn’t call me out on the lie. Jeanine’s pout grows bigger, if possible. She turns to Matt, shutting me out.
    “Baby, is that true?”
    Matt shrugs. “Yeah, guess it is.”
    Jeanine tries to extract herself and ends up nearly falling on her ass. I save her, not Matt.
    She jerks her arm out of my grip and steadies herself as she stands. “Call me later?”
    “Absolutely,” Matt says.
    Jeanine toddles off toward the pavilion and Matt sucks down water.
    “Do you have any taste at all?” I ask, exasperated. “You can do so much better.”
    He shrugs. “You got any suggestions?”
    I do, but my tongue feels too thick to say the words. He’s drunk and now is not the time.
    We stare at each other for a long moment. Matt is still leaning back against the table, long legs sprawled in front of him, one arm spread along the table, the other bent as he clutches the water and takes swallows of it.
    He looks like a decadent god lounging on his throne. I almost laugh at that idea, but it is kinda true. Maybe I read too many novels if I’m thinking like that. Thrones and gods, sheesh.
    “So what’s the emergency?” he asks.
    “You know I made that up.”
    “Yeah, I know.”
    “I’m taking you home. You can’t afford any trouble.”
    He climbs to his feet and sways a second. “Yeah, true.”
    He follows me toward his car, then stops when I click the button to unlock it.
    “Wait… Can you even drive a stick?”
    “Yes, I can. Uncle John taught me.” Sort of, but I don’t add that part. I’ve driven Uncle John’s Chevy truck approximately three times. It’s a column-shift—but it can’t be all that different, right?
    “Cool,” Matt says. Then he gets into the Corvette and leans his head back on the seat, eyes closing.
    I start the engine. Then I pray I make it home without damaging this fancy-ass car I could never afford to repair.

Chapter Eleven
    MATT
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    I