I should just let this go. Arwen had made up her mind, and she wouldn’t change it. I should move on and forget about it. I was fine before we met. I would be fine now that she was gone. I preferred the bachelor life anyway.
But I still thought about her…all the time.
I still missed her.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted anymore. The second things got real between us, my first impulse was to push it away, to sabotage what we had.
Mission accomplished.
Now I was stuck with regret, stuck with the pain of my stupidity.
If I didn’t want that kind of relationship, then what did I want?
Without her, what did I have?
The second I walked in the door, she was the most noticeable person in the room. Her hair was slicked back in a tight ponytail, and hoop earrings hung from her lobes, her long, slender neck on display under the bar lights. She picked up a big bottle of vodka and filled the glasses lined at the table.
The men at the counter eyed her like they couldn’t believe their luck.
I wanted to grab her by that pretty ponytail and drag her out of there. She only took the job because she needed the money, and the reason she needed the money was because I screwed everything up.
I entered the room and noticed the eyes directed at my wife. Most of the guys stared at her, even if they already had a woman on their arm. Some of the women looked at me, but tonight, I wasn’t interested.
I sat at the corner of the bar and waited for her to notice me.
Her tip jaw was almost overflowing—with hundred-euro bills.
This woman didn’t even need to strip to get paid like one.
She smiled at a new customer and made him a gin and tonic. A few phrases were exchanged back and forth before she moved on to her next admirer. Slowly, she made her way toward me, running the bar without effort. When she approached my chair and lifted her gaze to meet mine, her smile immediately dropped from her face.
I sat straight on the stool, my suit fitting my shoulders perfectly. I wore all black—the color she preferred to see me in. I held her gaze and hoped she wouldn’t pour a drink then throw it in my face.
All eyes were on her, so she didn’t cause a scene. “What are you drinking?”
“You know me best.”
She grabbed a bottle of the most expensive scotch she had behind the counter and poured it into a glass. She wore a low-cut black blouse that showed off her incredibly beautiful skin. She pushed the glass toward me, fire in her eyes.
I took a drink. “Thank you.”
“You aren’t welcome.” She turned and flipped her hair at the same time, showing her attitude like a pissed-off mare. Then she moved down the bar and kept working, pouring drinks for all the assholes who asked for her number. Her tip jar started to overflow, but the bills kept getting pushed down.
I sat alone and watched her the entire night, wondering when her shift would end so I could get a few moments of her time. Even though my presence must have startled her, she kept doing her job like nothing had happened at all.
She came back to me, a new drink in hand. “This is from the lady at the end of the bar.”
I pushed the glass to the side because I had no intention of drinking it.
She rolled her eyes. “A little late for that, Maverick.”
She worked until closing.
She served the final rounds, finished the transactions, and then locked the doors when everyone left.
I was glad she didn’t bother trying to kick me out.
She returned to the register and wrapped the bills in rubber bands before she shut and locked the drawer. She poured herself an extra shot before she left the dirty glasses in the sink.
I stayed at the counter and kept drinking.
Now that the music was off and the conversations had ended, her heels were audible against the hardwood floor. She slowly walked toward me, the same rage in her eyes as all the other times that she’d seen me. “Alright, I’m tired of this.” She stopped at the counter and gripped the edge with both hands. Her nails were painted black, and her makeup was dark and smoky. Black was the perfect color on her, especially when her skin was beautiful like a white flower. “Say whatever you want to say, Maverick. Take all the time you need. Let’s finish this conversation so we can move on with our lives.”
I finally had the floor, but only because it was the best way to get rid of me. Whatever. I would take it. I pushed my glass toward her then tapped my fingers against the counter.