Oh, good. So maybe they’ve only banged once. “We’re not friends.”
“You’re not?” Blink. Blink.
“Definitely more like enemies at this point.” I stretch my lips until it feels like I’m at the dentist. “I’m Nevaeh.” I grab the guy’s hand, and he jumps and mumbles Mike.
“Mike! I’ve met a Mike before.” I laugh, and he laughs, high-pitched and nervous, like a hostage. His gaze is careening from Forty’s cut to his biceps to my hair to Amelia. She’s got eyes for no one but me, though.
“I’ve never met a Nevaeh,” she purrs. “Such a unique name.”
“It’s heaven backwards.”
Blink.
“Heaven spelled backwards.” Mike helps me out. “N-E-V-A-E-H. Heaven.” Mike is inordinately pleased with himself. He relaxes a little and sips from his cup.
“I’m sorry I haven’t returned your call yet.” Amelia’s done with me and my name, and she’s aiming those freakishly blue, blinky eyes up at Forty. “The system went down. Again.” She cuts a look at Mike. He sips so hard on the straw he hits bottom.
“Refill!” He holds up his cup and lopes off to the lunch counter.
“No worries.” Forty shifts slightly on his feet. Oh, he’s sweating this. Good.
“I had a really great time the other night. That steak was the best.” Amelia’s not looking at me at all, but I’m picking up what she’s laying down. She’s staking her claim.
Forty grunts.
“It’s so strange. Seeing you in your vest.” She trills a giggle and strokes a finger down his cut. Oh, gross.
Forty’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t know what to say. The situation has short-circuited his brain.
“On the phone. You mentioned doing something this weekend? Maybe you could finally take me for a ride on your motorcycle.”
Come on, Forty. Tell her you can’t. You’re with me. Take her aside. Let her down easy. Or grab my hand. Rest your arm across my shoulder. Come on.
There’s a painfully long pause, the kind I usually leap into with reckless abandon, but I’m biting my bottom lip so hard my nose itches from the pain.
“I, uh. That’s not gonna work out.”
An awful heat blooms in my chest. My face burns. And I’ve got that feeling. That end of the rope, about to let go, crazy, wild feeling. That’s not gonna work out?
“So.” I smile with all my teeth. “Did you two bang yet? Or am I reading this right and you guys are still in the will they, won’t they phase?”
Mike has rejoined us with his drink, and he’s mid-sip when he does a spit take.
I hold up my palms. “Don’t let me get in the way. I’m just the ex who woke up to his dick in her ass this morning.”
Mike hacks so hard he has to lean for balance on the bubble gum machine.
I cover my mouth. “Oops. That came out wrong. His dick wasn’t in my ass. It was nestled against my ass.”
Amelia’s mouth is hanging open. If my heart didn’t feel like it just got stomped by a boot, this would be really entertaining.
“I mean, his dick has been in my ass plenty in the past. But not this morning. Just wanted to clarify that.”
“Nevaeh,” Forty growls in warning. Fuck him. I don’t have to play nice with the corporate ladder climber he’s trying to nail.
I don’t have to play nice with him, either. You know what? I don’t have to play with him at all. Where is this getting me? Not back to my man, the one who’d never in a million years leave me alone in parking lots or let there be a single doubt in anyone’s mind that I belonged to him.
That man doesn’t exist. Maybe he lives in the past. Maybe only ever in my imagination.
My head swirls as all my blood sinks to my feet. Reality glares at me, her neck set back, nose wrinkled in disgust, coral red lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.
But there’s no white knight rushing to save me. Not from monsters or mobsters or being embarrassed as hell in Duck’s Diner.
There’s just this man. Stuck in his pride. Can’t see what’s in front of him. Likes me well enough on my knees, but doesn’t think I’m quite worth it in the broad daylight.
Yeah, fuck that.
“Did you drive?” I ask Mike who’s finally managed to breathe again.
“Uh. Yeah. I have a Hyundai.”
“All right. I like Hyundais. Can you give me a ride somewhere?”
Mike’s eyes fly to Forty. Fuck that, too. “You don’t need his permission.”
“Nevaeh.” Forty’s voice is an octave lower. Oh, he’s serious now, is he?
“It’s your lucky day, Amelia. Forty here can give you a ride on his motorcycle, or you can ride along while Mike gives me a lift. Your choice.”
“Uh, the, uh, server. I really need to get back to work—We really need to get back.” Mike’s physically cowering, and all Forty’s doing is raising an eyebrow at him. “Uh, maybe you could call a ride share?”
Oh, Mike. You disappoint me.
This day is turning into a shit sandwich. No ride. No Reuben. I’m sure as hell not asking Forty to front my ten bucks so I can get something to eat while he firms up a date with his tall, blonde, ideal rejection of everything I am.
No glimmer of hope that I can mend something, make something work out for me finally.
Well, at least my feet work.
“Nevaeh, wait for me at the table.” Forty jerks his chin at a booth. Oh, he still thinks this is me making a scene and him playing the put-upon, long-suffering man.
I flip him the bird as I walk out the door.
As the screen door slams, I catch a glimpse of Amelia getting up in Forty’s face, as she starts, “You never said you were—"
I jog through the parking lot and down the block, heading toward the waterfront. Hopefully, Amelia buys me some time. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to keep reaching out, opening up, just to get slapped back down.
Why did I think this was going to be some healing journey? God, how did I not see that all I was doing was giving the universe a wide-open shot to grind me down once and for all?
My eyes are burning, but I’m not gonna cry. I’m gonna go sit on a bench at the promenade, and I’m going to let the breeze off the river cool me down, and when I’m not falling apart anymore, I’m going to start the ten-mile hike to Lou’s house.
No. Better yet. I’m going to go to the Steel Bones Clubhouse and get that Ford Focus from Heavy. I’m gonna drive to someplace I’ve never been, maybe the mountains, someplace where the sun doesn’t beat down on you so hot in early spring.
I cross the street, still hustling, and I’m panting now, sweat trickling down my back.
I’m planning it all out, Denver or Boulder or better yet Telluride, when I remember Shirlene. I promised her we’d start work on Ray’s basement this weekend.
I slow to a walk.
Shirlene tries to hide it, but her knees are really giving her trouble. She won’t be able to haul stuff up and down those steep steps by herself. And we’ve got to clear the basement. The mice are nesting down there. It doesn’t matter what we do on the first floor if those little fuckers are having baby-making orgies downstairs.