“Do you know he can go days without uttering a word to me?” I called after him. My mom tried to tell me that Andrew not talking to me was better than him yelling at me, but I wasn’t buying it. The silent treatment must have been thought up in some kind of prison camp—a form of torture. It was like pouring salt on a snail. It made me shrivel up into my shell and start questioning everything. Was he mad at me? Had the research I’d done disappointed him? Had I missed something? Should I be doing something I wasn’t? I’d turned into a paranoid freak who walked around with her shirt undone, throwing drinks on herself. The more I assured myself I was doing a good job, the more doubt kept creeping in, and the louder Andrew’s silence became. It was like two summers ago when I swore off cannoli for three months. I ended up eating double the amount I usually would because all I could think about was cannoli. The more Andrew didn’t speak to me, the more I thought about what he wasn’t saying. And, apparently, the more idiotic I became.
This was all Andrew Blake’s fault.
Tony reappeared behind the bar, the drinks dropped off at one of the tables behind me. “So, he sends you to Coventry. Let him.”
I glanced up at Tony to check he was talking to me. “He’s not sending me anywhere. I barely move from behind my desk. I said he doesn’t speak to me.”
Tony chuckled like I was being cute. He was clearly missing a beat. Or I was. I glanced down just to check my blouse was done up. I was going to have to start making hourly trips to the restroom to make sure I was dressed properly.
“And when he does speak to me, he’s monosyllabic or rude or both.” I pushed my empty glass toward him. “Next one on the list,” I said, realizing a second later that Tony had moved off to serve someone the other side of the pillar to my right.
“Cocktail number three coming up.” He flipped the shaker around on his arm a couple of times and I pulled my mouth into a smile. Why did men think juggling was cute? “You know what I’ve always done when I’ve been unhappy with my job?” he asked.
“What?” I said, moving closer so I didn’t miss what he was about to say.
“Found another job.”
It was the obvious answer but not so easy when I had to make rent and bills. Plus, if my father didn’t stump up all the cash for my mom’s entire operation, I’d need to squirrel away all I could to pay for it myself. “Yeah, but I can’t find another job and I don’t have anything to fall back on. Believe me, if there was anything else that paid just as well, where my boss wouldn’t be a total asshole freak, I’d be—”
I stopped midsentence as I heard a familiar voice beside me say, “When you’ve got a minute, Tony?”
It couldn’t be.
This couldn’t possibly be happening.
Could it?
Andrew Blake was standing right beside me, facing the bar. Holy mother of God, had I just called my boss an asshole to his face? Or at least . . . the side of his face?
“Ready to settle up, James?” Tony asked Andrew.
Wait. Who was James? My head was entirely too fuzzy for this to be happening. I must be hallucinating.
In my alcohol-induced haze, I turned to face Andrew, leaning on the bar next to me, just to make sure I was definitely looking at who I was looking at.
He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even turn his head to acknowledge me. It was like I didn’t exist. Of course, because why would he have had a complete personality change in the last hour and a half? “Yes, please,” Andrew said, pulling out his wallet.
Tony set down one of those coaster-sized silver trays and the check. It said one hundred and eighty pounds.
A hundred eighty pounds? How was that possible? Things started slotting into place. He must have been here for some time. Sitting at one of the tables. Had he heard everything I’d said? Every complaint I’d lodged about him?
Andrew slid a bunch of notes onto the tray. “Keep the change.”
Tony’s eyes lit up. That was one of the cute things about the UK that Natalie had told me about. Bar staff didn’t expect tips. I was surprised Andrew was being so generous. I thought he’d be the type to ask for a refund on everything that wasn’t entirely perfect. “Thanks, James. I really appreciate it. See you again.”
Andrew nodded and slid his wallet back in his pocket, then turned and started toward the door. Just as he came level with my seat, he paused and leaned toward me.