Abby was glad that Lincoln was attempting to lighten the mood. But it didn’t seem to be working. Sebastian pressed his lips together and ducked his head as Ted continued.
“?‘The eighth woman had matched with Sebastian, but hadn’t set up an in-person encounter. By the time the brunch was over, one of the women, Alyssa Frankel, had uploaded a video about the amatory overlap.’?”
“?‘Amatory overlap,’?” Sue repeated. “I like that.”
“?‘Within twenty-four hours, almost forty other women had chimed in to claim that they, too, had hooked up with Sebastian. “He was very clear that he wasn’t looking for a relationship,” Frankel told Page Six. “I wasn’t expecting to see him again. I also wasn’t expecting to find out he’d dated most of my friends, plus three of my sorority sisters. And my actual sister.”?’?”
Dale Presser whistled softly. Lily Mackenzie was staring at Sebastian, wide-eyed and horrified. Abby watched as Sebastian got up from the table and stalked off. Lincoln followed after him.
“Well,” Eileen said, and looked at her daughter, her expression sly and teasing. “Is there anything in the leader’s instruction manual about this kind of situation?”
Abby felt very tired, like all the miles she’d pedaled so far had decided to hit her thighs and calves at the same time.
“Let’s not give him a hard time,” Abby said, looking meaningfully at her mother, then at Ted and Sue, then Kayla and Dale. She lowered her voice. “It’s really none of our business. And he’s on vacation. He deserves to enjoy himself, as best he can.”
“Got it.” Sue nodded.
“That’s fair,” said Lou, who nudged Ted, speaking directly in his ear until he nodded, too. Then the waitress was there, and everyone opened their menus, preparing to order.
“It’s a shame,” Sue said to Abby. “He seemed like such a nice young man. And it looked like you two were really hitting it off.”
Abby felt her cheeks flushing… and what was she supposed to say to that? I have a boyfriend? Or, Sebastian and I hooked up once, and he isn’t the boyfriend kind of guy? She ended up closing her mouth, smiling weakly, and saying nothing; telling herself that if her mom was quietly making plans to see if Sebastian would be mentioned on the late-night talk shows, if the Presser parents were horrified, if Lily Mackenzie was especially disgusted and confirmed in every prejudice about the Godless East Coast liberals, and if she herself was feeling more than a little broken-hearted, Abby knew she could ignore it.
* * *
Back at the hotel, Abby was unsurprised when she heard raised voices from the room beside hers, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing. She was also not entirely unsurprised when she heard a knock at her own door. She wasn’t sure what Sebastian would want from her, but as she crossed the room, she made herself a promise that, whatever transpired, it wouldn’t end up with the two of them in bed.
She gave her ponytail a tweak and opened the door to find Sebastian standing there, still in his clothes from dinner. His formerly glossy and perfectly arranged hair looked like he’d been tugging at it, and his expression was miserable.
“Can I talk to you?” he asked.
Abby opened her mouth to tell him that they had nothing to say to one another, then remembered that she had an official role to play. She was the ride leader and not just a fellow cyclist-slash-lady with hurt feelings. Maybe Sebastian was here on Breakaway business. Maybe he’d done something to his bike when he’d fallen, or hurt himself. “Sure. What’s going on?”
Sebastian raked his hand through his curls. “I just… the thing on TikTok.” He made an unamused scoffing sound. “Only it’s not just on TikTok anymore. Page Six… TMZ…” He shook his head. “I want to talk to you about it.”
“Like I said, you don’t owe me an explanation.”
He yanked at his hair, then looked at her. “If I’d been able to find you…”
She stared at him, puzzled, disbelieving, feeling her heart beating hard. “So you’ve been, what, exactly? Pining for me for the last two years? Trying to bury your sorrows in…” She paused, realizing, belatedly, that bury was not, perhaps, the best choice of words. It conjured some very specific memories; ones she wished weren’t quite so vivid.
“It wouldn’t have worked,” she said. “We’re in very different places.”
He squinted at her, head cocked. “Are we, though?”
“Well, let’s see. You’re in Brooklyn, I’m in Philadelphia. You have a job, I have a boyfriend.” Abby stopped, realizing that hadn’t come out the way she’d thought it would. It sounded like she was saying that he did journalism for a living, and she did Mark. Which wasn’t what she’d meant. Mark wasn’t her job, and he wasn’t a sugar daddy, either. “You’re clearly interested in playing the field.” And then, because she couldn’t help herself, she added, “Playing all the fields.”
She saw hurt flash across his face and felt a stab in her own heart.
“That’s not fair,” he said.
She pulled in a breath and nodded, admitting it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re right. That was unnecessary. I—Look, I think it’s just better for both of us if we…” She flapped her hands in a vague motion, one that she hoped he’d be able to interpret as forget we ever met before the trip started, and speak to each other as little as possible until it’s over.
Sebastian stepped forward until he was standing right in front of her, so close that their noses practically touched. She could see the way his eyelashes curled up at the tip; his faintly stubbled cheeks and full lips. She could hear him breathing, and she could smell him: cinnamon and mint; shampoo and soap, the warm, clean scent she remembered from his sheets and his skin, something a little woodsy and also a little like toast. He put his hand on her upper arm, fingers curling around her biceps. Abby’s inhalation sounded almost like a gasp, and suddenly, in spite of everything she’d read and everything she’d learned, Abby wanted to feel his hands on her again, holding her hips, or brushing her cheek, or cupping the back of her head.
“I asked you to come home with me because I liked you,” he said.
Abby rolled her eyes a little. Sebastian’s gaze didn’t waver. His eyes were still on her face. Her mouth, specifically. Abby decided she needed to make explicit what she’d hoped her arm-waving gesture had implied.
“I had a nice time with you,” she said. Her voice was a little too loud, slightly stiff. “But I have a boyfriend.”
“Was he your boyfriend the night we met?”
Abby felt her face get hot and was glad she was being honest when she shook her head. “He wasn’t my boyfriend yet.”
“If I’d been able to find you… if I’d asked you to have dinner with me… do you think you’d still want to be with him?”
“How am I supposed to know?” Abby asked indignantly. “That’s completely theoretical. And it doesn’t matter. Because that’s not what happened.”
He smiled a little. Abby saw the faint crinkling at the corner of his eyes, and hated how appealing she found him, how every gesture, every expression, made him more endearing. “No. But it’s interesting to think about. Maybe there’s an alternate timeline where you and I are together, and we’re riding our bikes through Tuscany.”
Abby was tempted to ask if she had a job in this scenario, a job that let her pay for lavish Italian vacations. Instead she said, pleasantly, “Is this a timeline where you didn’t sleep with half of Brooklyn?”
She saw her words register on his face, watching as his sweet, almost yearning look changed to surprise and disappointment, feeling the strangest mixture of triumph and relief and shame. Sebastian let go of her arm, and Abby stepped backward.
“I think we should just keep our distance,” she said.
He held up his hands. “No worries. Whatever you want. I just want to be your friend.”
“I have plenty of friends.”