But does that mean he has to totally ignore me? I don’t need a phone call or a carrier pigeon, but a ten-second text would have been nice. A quick I’m okay and will call when I can doesn’t seem too much to ask considering the last time I saw him he told me that he loved me.
How does a guy go from that—from I love you—to you don’t fucking exist for me?
I don’t understand. I don’t fucking understand. Then again, I never have.
I finish making the drinks and slide them over to Samantha, then start on Paige’s drinks as she cashes out a different table.
I’m overreacting, I am. Or, at least, that’s what I tell myself as I grab the whiskey and pour two neat shots. I’ve seen the news, have heard all the stories. Kian definitely has his hands full right now.
And maybe if I hadn’t broken my own rules, maybe if I hadn’t broken down and texted him—clearly begging for attention that he isn’t prepared to give me—I wouldn’t be this pissed off. This hurt.
But I did text him, just a simple How are you? How’s Garrett? Do you need anything? But it was still a text. And I’ve still waited all afternoon and evening to hear from him, all to no avail.
It makes me feel cheap. More it makes me feel stupid. There’s a part of my brain that keeps telling me that I should have known better. That I’ve been down this road before, a million times. Texting someone I love, waiting for them to remember that they love me, too.
I did it with my mother a million times through the years, but her job was always more important than anything I might need.
I did it with Garrett for the six months he and I were together, only to be told time and again that Wildemar was more important. That he couldn’t take time for me when I needed him because he had people depending on him.
I swore when I left him—when I got on that plane back to America—that I’d never do this to myself again.
I’d never waste my time waiting around for someone to get in touch.
Never waste my time trying to get the attention of someone who didn’t want to give it to me.
And I sure as hell was never going to wait around for someone to love me again.
Yet here I am, doing just that. Checking my phone every five minutes, praying for a text or a missed call. Checking the door almost as frequently, praying that—despite everything—he’ll walk through it.
It’s disgusting. No, it’s worse than disgusting. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.
Even as I acknowledge it—and how angry I am at myself—I’m pulling out my phone and checking my texts. Again.
Still nothing, which surprises exactly no one.
“Two glasses of the house cab and a lemon drop,” Carter tells me as he hits the bar again.
“On it,” I tell him as I reach for the limoncello.
“Hey, you want to get something to eat after the bar closes?” he asks. “Paige, Samantha and I are thinking about checking out that all-night coffee shop that opened a couple blocks from here.”
Normally I’d be all in—I like pretty much everyone I work with and I enjoy hanging with Carter and Sam, especially. But I’m pretty sure I’ll be lousy company tonight, and I should probably save everyone from my bad freaking attitude.
“Thanks, but I’m tired tonight. Can I take a rain check?”
“Tired? Girl, you’re in your mid-twenties! These are the best nights of your life—you’re supposed to stay out late drinking and gossiping and having a good time. Don’t you know anything?”
“Hit me up next time and I’ll go, I swear. Tonight’s just not a good night.”
?
?Every night’s a good night,” Carter tells me with a roll of his eyes. But there must be something on my face because, suddenly, he leans across the counter and asks, “You okay, Savvy? You having man trouble or something?”
“Are you kidding? I take my advice from the fabulous Carter Blandeis. And what is it you say? If you’ve got a man—”
“You’ve got trouble,” he finishes with a laugh and then a sigh. “Ain’t that the truth, baby girl.” He snatches up the two glasses of wine and the lemon martini and drops them on his tray. “I’ll let you off the hook this time, but when we go out on Friday, I want all the details. Understood?”
“By Friday night the details won’t matter because I’ll be over this…malaise…long before Friday A.M. ever rolls around.”