“What’s up?” I asked.
“I just wanted to make sure you are okay. I didn’t hear from you last night and I got a little worried.”
“Xander showed up at my door.”
Her eyes bulged. “No way!”
“Yep.”
“Oh my god! I’m so happy for you.”
Before I could tell her it wasn’t really all that exciting, the head of the waitstaff waved me over with the typical panicked look in her eye. “I better go put out the fire. Why does this happen every single time?”
She laughed. “Because you are the best and the universe wants to test you.”
“I’ll talk to you later.”
I quickly handled the issue, only to be faced with another one and then another one. No matter how well I planned, these little emergencies always arose. It was the nature of the beast. Servers got sick, food got ordered wrong, or a tablecloth had a stain. My job was to do my best to prepare for every crisis. With my experience, I was used to just about anything. It took a lot more than an ugly coffee stain on a white tablecloth to freak me out. That was why they’d invented bleach pens.
The party got underway and things were moving along smoothly. I made my way over to where Nelle and one of her hired help were serving up drinks at the open bar. “Club soda?” she asked, knowing me well.
“Yes, please.”
There was a lull in the line, giving her a chance to step back. “So you didn’t tell me. What’s going on with you and Xander?”
“I don’t know.”
“He surprised you with a visit. That’s a big deal.”
“Yes and no. He is in town to handle some business. I kind of feel like I was an afterthought.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“It’s so hard to know with him,” I complained.
“Did you guys talk or just bang all night?”
I rolled my eyes. “You can be so crass.”
“So you banged all night.”
“Stop,” I admonished. “We talked a little bit. He asked me to run away with him.”
“No way!”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
I gave her a dry look. “What do you think I said?”
“I hope you didn’t tell him no.”
“Technically, I did not tell him no, but I told him it wasn’t up for discussion. I don’t think he is serious. I got the feeling it was off the cuff and he didn’t really think about it. I can’t run away for a week or a month or however long it takes him to get this out of his system and then expect to come back to my life. I’m not him. I can’t run away and have someone hold my place. If I leave, I give up my job, my reputation—everything.”
“You need to convince him to stay,” she advised.
I shook my head. “Nope. Not going to do that. I am not going to lay a guilt trip on him or give him an ultimatum. I will not be that woman. He has to come home because he wants to. I want him to be happy. If he truly cannot find happiness here, I’m not going to ask him to stay. I’m not going to tell him we can’t be together if he won’t stay.”
“Then where does that leave the two of you?”
I sighed before taking a drink of my soda. “I don’t know. I think last night was a goodbye. We both know it isn’t going to work the way it is going. I think we both want it but neither of us is ready to give up what we truly want from life.”
“That sucks,” she muttered. “He’s a good guy. I like him.”
“You haven’t met him.”
“But I like him from what you’ve told me,” she said with a laugh.
“He is a good guy, but he isn’t ready for a relationship. He needs to figure out what he wants and needs. I don’t want to be the one pushing him in any one direction. He will never be happy if he feels coerced.”
“Lame.”
We were both watching the crowd of corporate executives mingle around the room. They were traders or something along those lines. I watched as the man that hired me made his way toward us. He was carrying a half-full glass of a dark liquid.
“This is a lovely party,” he said and decided in order to tell me that, he needed to touch my shoulder.
I smiled at him. “Thank you. I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves.”
“Oh, we are. What are you drinking? Can I get you another?”
“It’s club soda and no thank you. I’m on the clock.”
He leaned in close, the booze on his breath giving me a contact drunk. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” he whispered. “I’m very good at keeping secrets.”
“From your wife?” Nelle snapped. “Isn’t she the pretty blonde wearing the red dress and looking over here right this minute?”
“My wife and I have secrets,” he said without taking his eyes off the minimal cleavage showing in the dress I was wearing.
“Really? Because the way she is looking at you, I would say your secret is out of the bag. Get lost, buddy. This lady is way out of your league.”
I looked at Nelle, trying to tell her to calm down with my eyes. She wasn’t getting the message.
“Excuse me?” he growled. “Aren’t you the bartender? Why don’t you make me another drink and do your job? I assume I’m paying you.”
“You aren’t paying me shit,” Nelle replied without missing a beat. “This is an open bar.”
“And I’m the damn owner of the firm that is paying for it,” he snapped.
“Congratulations. I hope you have an excellent attorney and an even better prenup. Your wife is only with you for your money and I would guess she is tired of your secrets. You’re about to be a very broke man. She looks like she could be a gold digger. She was just waiting for you to screw up, and here you are, giving her all kinds of ammunition. Good job. Enjoy your last party as a wealthy man.”
He glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough, the woman was glaring at him. I hoped she knew I was not entertaining her husband’s advances. I didn’t date old, fat, balding men that fucked anything that walked. I had some standards.
“You will never work one of my parties again,” he hissed at Nelle. His cheeks were ruddy, and he looked nervous.
“Thank God. You heard him. Never again will I serve this shitbag a drink.”
“You insolent creature!”
“Creative, but far from the worst I’ve been called,” she said with a dry expression.
He turned and walked away. I had to hide the smile on my face. “Thank you. I’m going to have to put a leash on you.”
“I don’t understand why men think that having a glass of whatever in their hands gives them the right to say and do what they want. It’s not an excuse to behave like a pig.”
“No, it isn’t, but they do it anyway.”
“Assholes,” she muttered.
“Usually.”
“You are lucky,” she commented.
I was confused. “I’m lucky?”
“Yes, lucky. You have a great guy. I don’t know your man, but would he ever act like one of these douchebags?”