“I don’t see the point.”
“Do you plan on punishing yourself for the next twenty years, or just for a few more months?”
“Burke,” I say his name as a warning.
“I’m just trying to understand you. A normal person would be seeking therapy after losing the love of their life.” He glances around and lowers his voice. How I wish we were at another bar where the music was louder so we didn’t have to talk. “I’m using that term loosely because I don’t believe for a second that you two were meant for each other. She wasn’t your soul mate.”
“You’re a soul mate expert?”
“No, but a soul mate has to be your partner. Not a toddler who throws hissy fits when she doesn’t get her way. She should’ve been a lot more understanding about your role in the family. She never tried to be a part of us even when we welcomed her. She hated me. Sometimes, I wonder if you’re keeping that hate alive.”
“I don’t hate you. You don’t know shit about my relationship. You’ve never dated in your life. Ever.”
“Because like you, my parents are Donovan and Florence St. James. They’re the worst example of love. Why attempt to do it when I know I’m going to fail?”
“They’re loving parents.”
“Not the point.”
“Then what are you trying to tell me?”
“I love you, but I don’t get your grief and your celibacy. I can’t stand behind it. You were married to Calliope for six months, and you knew her for a total of three months before marrying her. If the grief is a ratio of 1:3, meaning for one year of knowing her, you’ve grieved her three, you’re over—”
We’re interrupted by a loud thunk followed by glasses clinking. “Here are your drinks, and let me tell you that you’re wrong. There’s no such thing as a mathematical grieving formula. That’s stupid. You can’t measure that.”
I grin. “Two out of two. Not all women drink wine, and you can’t be serious about the moving on theory.”
He points his finger between Autumn and me. “Maybe you two are made for each other. Women might not love wine, but they find vineyards romantic. I can bring the flavor of the weekend to my vineyard and have fun.”
He glances between the two of us and adds, “If you two ever plan a romantic weekend, don’t ask to borrow my place.”
“I plan on taking her somewhere romantic, not my brother’s brothel.”
Autumn scrunches her nose. “Being a playboy is so overrated. You should find another hobby.”
“Then you should go out with my brother. He likes to go steady.”
I scratch my head. “Which brother?”
“You. You’re the only one who believes in relationships. The rest of us are aware that love sucks.”
She looks over at Burke and says, “You should try therapy. It’s cheaper than buying vineyards.”
A petite redhead walks between us, rubbing her chest against my arm and her ass against Burke’s crotch. “Hi,” she greets Autumn.
“Well, hello there, I didn’t see you.” Burke smiles at her. “What’s your poison?”
“Red wine.”
He grins. “Can we get a glass of 2016 Château Pape Clément or 2017 Kingpin Cabernet Sauvignon? We’ll be at the table.”
Autumn stares at Burke as he walks away with the redhead next to him. “Who broke his heart?”
I shrug one shoulder. “Surprisingly, no one.”
“Self-made asshole?”
“Probably, but then again, we’re all our father’s sons.”
“Right, who can forget their infamous divorce?”
“It left everyone broken. How’s Matilda?”
“She’s doing well.”
“Cryptic. How are you?”
“Busy. I don’t have time to socialize.” She shoos me with the rag she’s been using to clean the counter.
“I’m not a fly.”
She looks around. “You could be a barfly.”
I laugh. “Isn’t that a 90s term?”
“Probably. Mom uses it often.”
I lean closer, finish my drink, and set the glass on the counter. “So…what time are you off?”
“Two.” She points at the clock set on the third shelf next to the vodkas. “If you’re planning to wait for me, you might as well plan on getting hammered.”
“Okay, see you then,” I say, walking away.
I’m trying to decide if I’ll wait for her or not. Why would I stay? I guess I need my Autumn fix. A few hours, and I’ll be gone from her life again. We could discuss those designs she never sent me. I want to help her. I’m sure her financial situation hasn’t changed much. It’s only been a couple of months since the last time we saw each other.
A voice that sounds almost like Seth’s whispers in my head to leave now. She doesn’t need to deal with your issues.
I don’t listen to it because it’s only one day.
Chapter Twenty-One
Autumn
It’s two fifteen when I’m heading out the door. Charlie, one of the bouncers, points toward the employee’s room. “Someone is waiting for you.”
I look around to see if there’s anyone else beside or behind me. Nope. I’m the only one. “Me?”
“Yeah. He was with the bosses upstairs until they left.”
I look toward the stairs leading to the private room where the owners or their family members sometimes hang out. Which one of the Deckers is waiting for me and why? Did Zach or Burke complain about me? Assholes. That’s what I get for not indulging wealthy idiots.
Before I head to the slaughterhouse, I have to ask, “Is everything okay?”
He shrugs. “How would I know? If he gives you any trouble, come to me.”
I scratch my temple. Why would he offer to help me if the person waiting for me causes any trouble?
“Okay, thank you.”
My mouth dries. I want to skip the employee room, but I make my way there.
I feel a sudden lightness when I spot Zach. He nurses a glass of what I think is water since alcohol isn’t allowed outside of the bars. He’s either playing a game on his phone, watching something, or working. Probably the latter. My brother works from his phone often. I don’t understand how he can do it, but I’m not judging.
“Hey,” I greet him.
He looks up and smiles. His eyes sparkle. Ah, that panty-melting smirk that the St. James brothers share is powerful.
“Hi.” His voice is low and rumbles inside me.
Why is it that everything about Zachary St. James makes my body react? I don’t have this same reaction to his brother or any other man. It’s him.
“I was worried when Charlie told me someone was waiting for me.”
His eyes are on me as he stands up. “How so?”
“No one ever waits for me. Plus, Charlie said you were with the bosses. I thought they were going to fire me.”
He shakes his head. “Why would they do that?”
“Because I wasn’t nice to some patrons. Like you and Burke.”