“Have you tried dating anyone else?”
I bark out a laugh. “Seems kind of shitty to go out with one woman when I’m fixated on another.”
He nods. “Yeah, I get that, but it might be the easiest solution. Put yourself out there. Get yourself some strange. Right now, your little copilot thinks Amy’s unicorn pussy is the only pussy in the world. Remind him there’s other pussy to be had.”
I drag a hand over my face. “One, never call my dick ‘little’ anything ever again. Two, please stop saying pussy.”
Smithy chuckles, and I grin. It’s hard to take yourself too seriously around Smithy. My smile falls away when I see Amy standing at the pool tables. She’s fresh-faced and smiling tonight, and the joy in her eyes reminds me of the good times. Loneliness curls up in my stomach like a cat in a windowsill, just making itself at home. Maybe Smithy’s right. Maybe I am an addict.
I try to focus on my food. Try to ignore the feeling of her eyes on my back.
My phone buzzes, and I unlock it and open the message without thinking.
Amy: I’m sorry about Monday.
Shit. Apologies from Amy are rare, but she knows I have a weakness for them and is a master at manipulating me to get what she wants. Or maybe I’m just jaded.
Dean: What are you apologizing for?
Amy: For being heartless. I don’t mean to be like that.
I stare at my phone for a long time. I can’t help but feel like she doesn’t really get it, even after all this time, but I’m not up for trying to explain myself again, either.
Amy: And you can give me your apology any time you want.
Dean: What am I apologizing for?
I glance over my shoulder to see her laughing with her date before she bends over the pool table to take a shot. When he takes his turn, she pulls out her phone again, and I turn away. Moments later, my phone buzzes.
Amy: For rejecting me in my hour of need? For leaving me wanting? For sending me home to take care of myself when I blew off my date to be with you?
Yeah, she definitely doesn’t get it.
Dean: Taking care of your needs isn’t my responsibility.
Amy: Ha! Well, you can make it up to me. Come to my place tonight.
Dean: We’ve been over this. I’m done.
Amy: That’s what you always say . . .
Dean: I’m in love with you. I need more from you than sex.
Amy: So this is an ultimatum?
Dean: Call it whatever you want. It’s where I stand. And I know where you stand, so I’m not sure there’s anything more to say.
I stare at my phone, willing her to reply. Willing her to finally offer me more. She doesn’t, and every time I look over my shoulder, she’s snuggling closer to tonight’s date. The sight gnaws at my gut. I can’t decide if she’s trying to make me jealous or if she really believes that doesn’t fuck with me.
This is better. I need to cut ties. No more fooling myself into believing she has more to offer than she really does.
As I force myself to look away for the tenth time, I notice Abbi Matthews sitting in one of the back booths, smiling up at Vince Brunetti. Oh, hell no.
* * *
Abbi
“What about tomorrow night?” Vince asks, his eyes slipping down to my breasts for the hundredth time since he took up his position at the end of my booth two minutes ago. My shirt’s not even low-cut, but Vince’s gaze is so searing that I feel exposed anyway. And a little dirty.
“Vince . . .” I sigh, shifting in my seat. “It’s just that I’m not looking for anything serious.” Not with you, at least.
“I’m okay with casual,” he says, licking his too-pink lips. “Casual can be a lot of fun.”
I should say yes. I should go out with Vince and get practice dating. But what I really need is practice doing the other stuff that comes with dating, and Vince . . . well, I just don’t think I can do it.
“Have you ever been taken care of by a real man, Abigail?”
“Pretty sure she’s trying to let you down gently, Vince,” Dean says, sliding into the booth across from me like he belongs there. “Take the hint and back off.”
“Oh,” Vince says, backing up a step. He waves a finger back and forth between us. “I see what’s going on here.”
I wait for Dean to explain that we’re just friends, but he folds his arms, leaning back in the booth and holding Vince’s gaze in a way that can only be described as hostile. Apparently, Dean’s playing the part of protective big brother tonight. Lovely.
Now I feel like everyone in the bar is looking at me—looking at us and wondering just what Vince is implying. And probably feeling sorry for me for thinking I have a chance with Dean.