Thirty and Single.

Chapter 28.

"Honey, you have to come to this party with me. You can't just lock yourself inside all weekend," Brooklyn pleaded over the phone, her voice bubbling with energy like champagne on ice.

I sighed, already sinking deeper into the couch, wrapped in a blanket burrito, half-watching the Netflix home screen. "Brooklyn, I—"

"No!" she cut me off sharply. "No excuses. You've been ghosting the world for too long. Tonight, you're going to dress up, look stunning, and maybe even smile."

She could be frustratingly persuasive, and deep down, I knew she was right. Still, part of me resisted. The part still curled up with grief, still scanning crowds for a face that hadn't appeared in two years.

I sighed again, defeated. "Fine. Send me the address."

"Yes!" she cheered, her excitement bursting through the phone. A second later, my screen lit up with her text.

"See you soon, darling!" she said before hanging up.

I groaned and dragged myself off the couch. If I had to do this, I'd at least make it count.

After thirty minutes of wardrobe chaos, I settled on a sleek purple evening dress that hugged my figure and made my skin glow. A pair of stiletto heels, a tiny black clutch, and bold statement earrings later, I actually felt... pretty.

The drive took half an hour. When I pulled into the quiet, upscale neighborhood, I was instantly struck by the size of the mansion. Cars were lined up on both sides of the street, the house glowing with soft golden lights and the muffled thump of music. I parked, took a breath, and called Brooklyn.

"I'm outside," I told her.

A few minutes later, the door swung open and Brooklyn came bounding down the front steps, arm-in-arm with a ridiculously attractive guy. She was radiant, her auburn hair bouncing with every step, cheeks flushed either from makeup or a few drinks—probably both.

"Genesis!" she squealed, wrapping me in a hug. "This is Larson."

Larson turned to me with a soft, amused smile. His eyes were a piercing blue, the kind that made your stomach flip before your brain caught up. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had dirty blonde hair that curled slightly at the edges. A neatly trimmed beard framed his jaw, and freckles dotted his nose like sun-kissed constellations.

"Hi, Larson," I said, managing a polite smile despite the sudden flutter in my chest.

"Hey," he replied, his voice low and smooth. "Welcome to the party."

His eyes held mine a second too long. My legs suddenly felt a little wobbly.

"He's our host and he's cute," Brooklyn giggled, clearly tipsy.

"Please, this way," Larson said, gesturing toward the entrance.

The mansion was already packed. Laughter and music spilled through every room. The scent of expensive perfume and catered hors d'oeuvres filled the air. Some of the faces I recognized from work, others were strangers but everyone was dressed like they belonged in a fashion magazine.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Larson asked as we entered the main hall.

"Just a Coke," I said quickly.

Before he could respond, Brooklyn interrupted, "No! Bring her a scotch on the rocks."

I blinked at her. "Brooklyn, I said—"

"Genesis! Come on. I dragged you out here to have fun, not to sip soda in a corner. I want us to get wasted and enjoy the weekend. I know you're still thinking about him. But he's not coming back. You have to move on, darling."