Chapter 36 – cat #2
It’s not fair. My eyes are red from crying myself to sleep, and sunken from not eating or drinking enough. I haven’t had an appetite since I left his apartment.
Even though I try to steel myself and harden my heart, I can’t help it. I eagerly drink in the sight of him. My mind can conjure exactly how his cologne smells. How firm his back muscles would feel even through the wool blazer.
I can practically hear him whisper, Kitten.
Nate’s eyes meet mine, and for a second, his whole cool facade cracks. His gray eyes are liquid with fear, misery, and regret.
Just as quickly, he hardens his features, hiding any vulnerability. But it’s too late. Now, I know two things without a doubt:
One, Nate had no idea I would be here.
Two, he’s hurting just as badly as I am.
It should make me feel better that he’s heartbroken, too. But it doesn’t. As much as he hurt me, I don’t want him to feel that pain.
Maybe I should go and spare us both the misery of a night together.
But everyone’s already seen me, and it’ll make me look weak and pitiful if I leave now. Besides, I’ll have to see Nate eventually, since I’m still working in the same building. I might as well get it over with and get paid.
So I plaster on my best customer service smile and walk inside to cheers from the guys.
“Well, well, well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Luke cries.
“Took you long enough,” says Beau.
“Hello,” says James.
Ryan doesn’t say anything. He just ambushes me with a hug, lifting me off my feet and squeezing me hard.
“Put me down!” I squeal, sounding way less domineering than I wish I did.
“Fine,” he says, dropping me right next to Nate’s chair. When I land, Nate pushes to his feet. My breath catches—I don’t want him to ignore me, but I’m not sure I’m ready to talk. I miss him so much, I might cave.
But he doesn’t even look at me. Instead, he’s glaring at Beau.
“Let’s talk,” he snarls.
I let out a breath when he practically drags Beau into the corner.
The other guys and I watch them shamelessly as they speak in voices too low to hear.
The body language is clear, though—Nate is pissed, and Beau doesn’t give a shit.
My chest feels tight. Nate’s anger fills the room like thick, heavy smoke.
Even though Beau annoyed him, I’m the one he’s really furious about.
“Don’t worry, Cat,” Luke says quietly. “He really is happy to see you.”
I raise my brows. “Are you sure about that?”
Ryan puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles. “Bros! You want to share with the group?”
Beau and Nate exchange one last glance before they both come back to the table. Nate’s jaw is clenched so hard, I can practically hear his teeth grinding together. He’s not happy, but he’s not stopping this.
Why isn’t he stopping this? There’s no way he wants to see me any more than I want to see him. The wounds are too fresh, and the temptation to forget everything is way too strong.
Whatever. Nate and I are broken up, which means I don’t have to sit around puzzling out why he does the things he does. I raise my chin and ask, “What can I get you all?”
“Whiskey,” Luke and Beau say in unison. James lifts his glass to indicate the same.
Nate, of course, says nothing.
I frown. There’s already a bottle of Twisted Devil on the table, and I know this crowd isn’t shy about refilling themselves. “Did you want a different kind of whiskey?”
“Oh, that bottle’s for Ryan,” Beau says. “For his penalty.”
“Penalty?”
“Every time he wins a hand, he has to take a shot to keep things fair.”
“They can’t handle my talent,” Ryan says.
“You literally play poker for a living,” Luke notes. “It would be pathetic if you weren’t better than us.”
“Is he really going to finish that whole bottle by himself, though?” I ask.
“He’s done it before,” James mutters.
“So they’ll have their own whiskeys, and for me, an espresso martini,” Ryan says. The other guys groan, and he points his finger. “Hey, they’re delicious. My masculinity isn’t so fragile that I can’t admit it. Make one for yourself too, Cat.”
“I’m working.”
“I won’t tell.” He winks, and I have to admit that I get why so many women fall for him. Ryan makes everything fun, and when he looks at you, it feels like he’s giving you 100 percent of his attention.
Nate makes a small noise, almost like a growl. For a second, I think he’s going to tell Ryan off for flirting with me…but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even look up.
Fine. I whisk all their empty glasses back to the bar, happy for an excuse to get away from him. I fill four fresh glasses with the round whiskey ice in the freezer, topping them off with two ounces of Twisted Devil. Before I mix Ryan’s martini, I shoot a quick text to Pippa.
Cat
Beau’s a big fat liar. Nate’s here and he’s ignoring me.
Guess it’s better than the alternative.
She doesn’t answer immediately, so I put my phone away. I decide to take Ryan at his word and make two espresso martinis. I deserve it, all things considered.
When I carry the drinks to the table, I’m greeted with three smiling faces, one man staring at the ground, and James.
“Thanks, darling,” Luke croons.
Nate doesn’t say a thing when I put his glass in front of him. He just takes a sip of whiskey.
Beau clears his throat. “Hey Cat, I know you guys went to France, but did you know Nate’s also fluent in Italian and Portuguese?”
Nate coughs, choking on his drink. Ryan pats him on the back.
“Yeah, before we all got busy with work, we used to do these semi-annual trips together,” Luke adds. “Nate was always the planner. We went to Peru, Japan, Morocco…”
“When we were in Italy, he figured out how to sneak us into the Sistine Chapel after it closed,” Ryan says. “I swore we were going to get caught and executed by those crazy Swiss guards, but nobody saw us. It was actually pretty magical.”
They all stare at me expectantly, like I should clap or something. I just awkwardly shift my weight from one foot to the other, still balancing my own espresso martini on the tray.
Because I don’t need more reasons to like Nate. That was never the problem—I always thought he was fascinating, cultured, and intelligent.
But not even the prospect of him whispering sweet nothings in Italian can make up for him looking into my Dad and invading my privacy.
“Well, enjoy your drinks,” I say awkwardly.
Before I can go back to the bar, Ryan grabs my hand and pulls me back to him.
“Stay! I need a good luck charm,” he pleads.
I bite my lip. There’s no reason for me to listen to him, but part of me wants to stay for the game. I do enjoy the guys’ company, and it’ll make the next few hours go faster if I stay to chat. Besides, Nate’s ignoring me anyway. I might as well be ignored at a shorter distance.
“Okay,” I say.
Ryan grins and pats his legs. “There’s a free seat here if you want it.”
My face goes hot from annoyance and embarrassment. I know exactly why Ryan’s doing this—he’s trying to make Nate jealous. Whatever Parent Trap stunt Beau’s trying to pull, it’s obvious all the guys are in on it.
I’m guessing Nate didn’t tell them I broke up with him for stalking me.
“Let her have her own chair,” Beau says. He looks a little guilty for setting this up, as he should.
“But I want her to blow on my cards!” Ryan insists.
“That’s craps, not poker,” Luke says.
James gets up and grabs a chair from one of the unused tables. He pushes it in between Ryan and Nate, gesturing for me to sit.
God, I didn’t think this through. I don’t know if I can handle being this close to Nate. I already feel a little lightheaded from how fast my heart’s beating. But I don’t have a choice—it’s this or Ryan’s lap.
Reluctantly, I slide into the chair. Nate doesn’t so much as move a muscle, but I can feel his presence like a physical touch. I take a long sip of my espresso martini—I’m going to need some liquid courage to make it through this. The bittersweet flavor is cool and smooth on my tongue.
When I set the glass back down, the back of my hand accidentally brushes against Nate’s as he reaches out to straighten his chips. I flinch back, putting my hand in my lap.
A phone notification distracts me. Ryan pulls his phone out of his pocket. Whatever he sees makes him wrinkle his nose, and he shoves it back in again.
Luke starts shuffling the cards and Ryan tosses a chip on the table. “Why are you putting in chips before you have cards?” I whisper.
He leans over. “It’s the little blind. Nate has the big one. The two players to the left of the dealer have to put money in. It’s to make sure there’s some money in the pot, even if the others decide not to play the hand. Guessing you’re not a poker nut?”
“No. All I know about poker is what I saw in that James Bond movie.”
“You’ll catch on. What I love about poker is that it’s easy to learn, hard to master. Ask me if you have any questions.”
“Won’t I distract you?”
Ryan chuckles. “Please. This early in the night, I could beat these guys with my hands tied behind my back. Once I get a few shots in me, that’s when I’ll really need your luck.”
I don’t miss that Ryan stopped hitting on me. I’m guessing he hasn’t given up on trying to get me and Nate back together. It seems more like he’s so excited to explain poker to someone that everything else is now on the back burner.
When Ryan gets his cards, he gives me a quick glimpse of them—a seven and a nine of hearts. I have no idea if that’s good or bad, and I know better than to ask. But Ryan puts in two more chips, so he must be happy enough.
Nate doubles without a word.
“Too rich for my blood,” Beau says, throwing down his cards. “We haven’t even seen the flop.”
Ryan whispers in my ear again. “The flop is the first three cards the dealer lays down. We all have the cards in our hand, and we try to make the best hand we can, combined with the cards on the table.”
I glance over at Nate. He’s still ignoring me, his eyes so glued to the center of the table, it’s like he thinks it might explode if he looks away.