It’s not true. I know it. But just hearing it postulated into the universe does something to the pulse of my body. Everything hums. Everything electrifies. Everything seems brighter and happier for a split second—until I remind myself she’s wrong.
“Well, that’s too bad because I’m here to convince myself to fall out of love with him.”
I really don’t have to explain it to her because I know she’s reading between the lines. She knows about Samuel and how he wanted to talk marriage before we called everything off. How that conversation, the one about me being emotionally unavailable and in need of figuring out what I want out of life, was the saddest and angriest I’ve ever seen the otherwise sweet, sober man. Emily knows my storied history—most of it, anyway—with Machlan and how he’s the one I can’t get out of my mind.
She was there the night, years ago, when I cried so hard I almost passed out. It was her shoulder I leaned on when I decided to move to Vigo eighteen months ago. Emily has heard me fight with myself over every little decision in my life because … what if?
The what-if is not happening.
“Has Samuel called?” she asks.
“He texted me last night to see if the dog sitter is scheduled for the rest of the month. I just texted back yes, and he left it at that.”
“So responsible.”
I groan. “I know. We had our life in such sync. I did these things, he did those. We didn’t even live together, and it was like we were on the same calendar.”
“His calendar,” she points out.
“But it was a joint calendar. One where my presence was wanted.” My shoulders sag as my spirits sink. “But, yeah, his calendar. Which is why, I guess, it’s a good thing we split up.”
“Do you miss him?”
I think back over the past couple of days and what’s been on my mind. Coming home, seeing Machlan, starting my job, seeing Emily—that’s what I’ve been thinking about. Not Samuel.
“You don’t even have to answer that,” Emily says.
I look at my water glass and wish it was vodka. “I need a therapist.”
“You need to get laid.”
“Em …”
“Orgasms paint the world rosy. You’re in need of a good painting.”
“That’s what got me in this mess,” I point out. “It was in a tent on Bluebird Hill, and the stars were almost magical. The orgasm was magical.”
Emily snorts. “Thinking about Machlan delivering orgasms isn’t going to help you.”
As she says it, I can almost feel his palms on my skin. Taste the sweetness of his breath. Feel the heat between my thighs.
“You’re right,” I say, shivering. “It’s definitely not going to help.” I grab my purse and find a few bucks for a tip, then put them under the salt shaker.
“If I loved someone like you love Machlan and he didn’t love me back, I think I’d hate them.”
“Let’s not embarrass me, okay?”
She sighs, grabbing her purse. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re brave. Much braver than I would ever be.” She takes out a tube of red lipstick and strategically paints it on her lips. “I see your predicament. He can be a complete jerk, and then he’s the first to jump to your aid or fuck you real good.”
“Emily!”
“Just going by what you’ve told me.” She smacks her lips together and puts the lipstick away.
“Anyway,” I continue, “I think I need to change my plan. I need to figure out how to be around him without loving him or hating him. Just look at him like another guy I’m friends with. Like Peck,” I add, proud of myself for the comparison.
“Peck is boy-next-door hot. Machlan is front-cover-of-women’s-porn-magazines hot. Good luck with that.” She laughs as she climbs out of her seat, taking her credit card from the waiter.
I follow her out the door. Once we’re in the parking lot, Emily stops and turns to me. Her arm goes around my shoulder as we head to our cars. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Sure.”
“I’m glad you’re not with Samuel anymore. He’s so lame.”
She continues her opinions as I climb into the car. Despite all the confusion in my life and all the questions I don’t have answered, I can’t deny it’s awfully nice being home again.
Nine
Machlan
“Just the man I was looking for,” I say.
Peck stops in his tracks, and the door swings shut behind him. The thud sounds ominous as it echoes through the bar, sealing the sunshine out and him … inside with me.
“I’m gonna need to know how pissed you are before I come any closer,” he says.
“What an interesting thing to say.” I shove my tongue in my cheek. “Why would I be pissed off?”
“Oh, I don’t think there’s anything to be pissed off about. You, on the other hand …”
Tossing the rag down on the bar, I slap both palms flat against the wood. “Cut the shit, Peck.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s right,” he says, tapping his temple. “Letting her stay at my house was a better idea. Or would you have rather I let her sleep in her car?”
“I would rather you had called me like I fucking told you to do.”
“And then she would’ve been pissed, which I know really doesn’t bother you, but I don’t like the look in her eye when she’s mad, okay?” He sighs. “Besides, I left the window open so you’d know something was up. I did you a solid, bro.”
“You did me a solid?”
He shoots me his stupid, goofy grin that makes it hard to be pissed. “I did. You just might not see it yet.”
“You’re right. I don’t.”
“You will.” He starts to move forward but stops. “Before I come any closer and grab a beer, how pissed are ya?”
“What’s the scale?”
“One to ten.”
“Oh, about a seven point three.”
Peck’s laugh is quick and loud. “Hell, I’ve made you madder than that without trying. Now grab me a beer, will ya?”
I shake my head, grabbing the rag I had a few moments ago to finish cleaning the area where I cut the limes. Peck takes a seat across from me. When I don’t get him a beer, he hops over the bar.
He rummages around the liquor bottles and helps himself to the contents of the candy dish by the cash register. I’d bust his balls on a normal day. Lucky for him, today is as abnormal as they come.
I love this bar. Coming in here every day isn’t work to me. It’s not just entertainment as Lance assumes it is or just a paycheck like Walker thinks. It’s not even some attempt to stay young and half-assed irresponsible like my sister, Blaire, points out every other time we talk.
I’ve seen people come in here ready to drive off a cliff and leave with a smile on their face. Why? Because I poured them a shot and listened to whatever bullshit they had to say, or they ran into a friend they haven’t seen in a couple of weeks and got distracted. People let their guard down here, admitting their feelings. Others cut loose and enjoy Friday night because it’s fucking Friday night. This place brings people together in a way most don’t understand, and being a part of it makes me feel as if I’m doing something worthwhile.
Today, I can’t remember any of that. I can’t find the good this place usually brings. There’s only a wobbliness that started when I walked into the apartment earlier.
It’s as if I’ve forgotten how calming Crave is to me and the only way to get that peace is to skip back in time to this morning. To her lying upstairs on my futon. To the sleepy look in her eyes.
“Who’s that?” Peck asks as he walks behind me.
“Who?” I glance up, annoyed to have my attention drawn away from Hadley. Following his gaze as it settles near the storeroom, I see a head of blond hair with purple streaks framing a heart-shaped face. “Oh, that?”
“Yeah. That.”
“That’s Navie.”
Peck climbs on the stool across from me again. This time, he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at her.
I expected as much when I hired her. Hell, I hoped as much when I hired her—not so much from Peck, but from patrons.
Navie is pretty. Tanned, muscled body, full lips, and cheekbones that nearly touch her blue eyes. She’s smart and cool and can talk to anyone about anything. But it’s her moxie that makes her perfect for this job.
“Hey,” she singsongs as she approaches. “I hope you don’t mind, but I just swept the storeroom.”
“Why would I mind?”
“Because it doesn’t look like you’ve done it in maybe forever. I thought it might be some barkeeping superstition or something. Like if you don’t sweep the floors, you get good luck.”
“Nah,” Peck says, leaning forward. “Mach’s just a mess.”
Navie turns her attention to my cousin. Her body follows suit. “And he’s apparently also rude. I’m Navie.”
“Nice to meet ya. I’m Peck.”
They exchange a smile that has me rolling my eyes.
“You’re on the clock,” I tell her.
“This is a part of my job. I’m just getting to know the customers,” Navie says.
“He’s not a customer.”
“I am too!” Peck bristles. “I’m in here almost every day.”
“Customers pay,” I point out.
Navie laughs. “Is he the one you were telling me would rack up charges?”
“That’s him.”
“I always pay, though,” Peck protests. “Don’t let him fool ya, Navie.”
She laughs again. The melody does something to my cousin. As she walks back toward the storeroom, Peck floats behind her. I almost yell at him to leave her alone, but before I do, my gaze lands on my binder at the end of the bar.