42. Elyse
CHAPTER 42
Elyse
HATE MYSELF A LITTLE MORE
25 YEARS OLD
“ R emind me again why we’re here,” Scottie says, raising a brow, her face twisted in disgust.
I tip my shot back, the burn of the tequila warming me almost instantly. While sucking on a lime, Scottie casts me an unimpressed look.
“There isn’t enough tequila on the shelves to make this place any less divey.” She squirms in her seat as if bugs are crawling on her skin.
“So, you move to the big city, and suddenly you’re too good for the local watering hole?” I tease.
“I am not too good,” she defends. “I’m just not a bar girl. They’re so loud and sticky.”
I sling my arm around her shoulders, sliding a shot toward her. “We’re here to celebrate you landing a spot in that improv group you never shut up about and you’re visiting, which is reason enough.”
She reluctantly picks up the shot glass, eyeing it like it’s poison .
I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from laughing. Scottie isn’t a big drinker, but that’s never stopped me from peer pressuring the shit out of her.
Closing her eyes, she takes a few deep breaths, and then downs the shot in one gulp, immediately slapping her hand over her mouth to keep it from coming right back up. I’m already prepared with a lime and shove it in her mouth the second her hand slips.
“See,” I shout over the buzzing bar. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
She chokes on a cough. “That was vile. Why do people drink this stuff?” She coughs a few more times, her skin taking on a red tint, matching her hair. “Jet fuel,” she croaks.
“Oh, stop. You’re fine.” I lift my hand to Rhonda to get her attention. She sees me and makes her way over after sliding beers across the bar to a group of rowdy guys. On a quick glance it looks like they’re cops. They’re not in uniform but in a town this small, I recognize nearly everyone.
“What can I get you, princess?”
“Water—”
“Two Palomas?—”
Scottie and I speak simultaneously.
“Palomas,” I repeat. “No water.”
Scottie’s shoulders slump. “I’d prefer water,” she grumbles.
“You can have water after you finish your Paloma.”
While Rhonda works on our drinks, my eyes wander around the bar, landing on several familiar faces. It’s Saturday night, and with not much else to do since it’s off-season, the bar is packed with locals and people in town visiting family for the holidays. The group of guys are louder than ever, obviously celebrating something. They’re all surrounding one guy, but I can’t seem to make him out. After staring long enough, someone in the group moves, revealing Ryker at the center of attention.
“When did the Ken doll move back?” Scottie asks, looking in the same direction I am.
I shrug. I haven’t seen him in years. “I guess recently. First time I’m hearing about it.”
When a few more guys in his circle disperse, I notice he’s not alone. Tucked under his arm is a pretty brunette.
He must sense our blatant staring because his eyes meet mine, narrowing with a smile on his face. He pushes past the crowd, keeping his arm around the woman and coming straight for us.
“Elyse Ledger and Scottie James, the dynamic duo.”
“Hi, Ryker,” Scottie says with a dismissive half-wave. For whatever reason she’s never liked him.
“Hey,” I say with a slight slur, the tequila hitting me.
My gaze flits to his date, who looks adorably shy. Ryker shakes his head, like he’s just now realizing he needs to make introductions.
“Honey, this is Elyse and Scottie, they were a few years behind me in school.
She smiles sweetly extending her hand to me and then to Scottie. “Claire.”
As they claim the barstools next to us, I catch sight of something shiny, finding a generously sized diamond on Claire’s left hand.
“Are you guys engaged?!”
Claire beams as Ryker nods. “Yeah, I asked her last week. I just accepted a job as a deputy sheriff, and decided it was time to make things official.”
Claire and Ryker proceed to explain that they met in college and had been living in Bellingham, but just moved back for Ryker to start his new job.
“So when is the big day?” I ask .
Claire’s smile eases slightly. “We’re hoping soon, but we haven’t been able to find the right place. Every venue we look at is either booked up or too expensive. And I recently started grad school so I don’t have a ton of time to focus on planning.” A small frown curves her lips, her eyes looking defeated as they meet Ryker’s. “Maybe we’ll just elope.”
“Let me plan it!” I burst. “I just took over as the event coordinator for my family’s winery and we’re offering full-planning services.”
Technically, I haven’t discussed this with my dad yet, but I know he’ll agree. Weddings are a huge moneymaker, and it’s a corner of the market the winery has been neglecting to nurture. Maureen, the former coordinator, retired last month, and she’d really been dropping the ball these last few years. I was itching to takeover but had to wait for her to retire before my title could become official.
Claire’s face lights up. “Wait! Really? Because I will seriously hire you right this second.”
Ryker lets out a breath. “Honey, you haven’t even seen the winery. What if you don’t like it?”
Sensing Ryker’s hesitancy, I rifle through my purse for one of my newly-printed business cards. “Here.” I hand it to her. “Call me on Monday, and you two can schedule to come take a tour. If you like what you see, we’ll move forward.”
Claire jumps out of her barstool, and wraps me in a tight hug. “Thank you so much! I can’t wait to see it.”
“Hey Ryk!” someone calls across the bar. “Got a boiler maker with your name on it.”
Ryker stands, putting his arm back around Claire. “Let’s go rejoin them. The guys are trying to get me shit faced as some kind of hazing ritual.”
We wave our goodbyes, Scottie shaking her head with smile. “Look at you, hustling after hours.” She lifts her glass to mine, cheersing. “You might’ve just booked your first solo wedding.”
I’m trying not to get my hopes up, even though Claire seemed really excited. Ryker not so much, but guys are rarely excited when it comes to wedding planning.
“Hopefully,” I say, shrugging while taking a sip of my drink.
Scottie cocks her head, her eyes trained on Ryker and Claire. “Was it just me or did she look familiar? She kind of looked…”
She trails off, her sentence dying as I feel her stiffen beside me, nearly dropping her drink.
“Uh, you know what?” She stands. “Suddenly I’m not feeling so great.” Her hands visibly tremble as she puts on her coat. “Let’s go.”
Her voice is shaky, laced with panic. Leaning back slightly, I gaze around the bar, trying to find the source of Scottie’s sudden shift, but I come up empty.
“What has gotten into you? Did one of your exes walk in, or something?” I say with a laugh.
She shakes her head quickly. “Nope! Not one of mine.”
I pause, my eyes pinching. “What are you talking about?”
Placing both hands on my shoulders, she forces my eyes on hers. “Babe, I’m gonna need you to take some deep breaths for me and don’t look over at the entrance.”
Without thinking, my head starts to turn, but she stops it with her hand on my cheek. “Who just walked in? You’re scaring me.”
I already know, I’m not sure why I’m acting as if I don’t. Maybe a small part of me is hoping Scottie is being dramatic, but there’s only one person she would be this freaked out about me seeing.
“Dominic,” she begins and my chest caves in, heart jolting. “ He just walked in. He’s with his brother. Looks like they’re joining Ryker’s group.”
The tequila churns in my stomach, slowly rising. I’m going to be sick. I take an unsteady breath, swallowing burning acid as I do.
I haven’t seen Dominic since the day I broke up with him. It’s been over six years. And every day since then, he’s occupied corners of my heart and brain I actively work to not acknowledge. Over time it got easier to live with him at the fringes, just lingering there. But now, everything is in full-force, coming to the surface all at once.
I take a deep, gasping breath. “I can’t see him. I can’t see him.”
She strengthens her grip on my shoulders. “I know, okay. Let’s leave. We can slip out the back.”
“We need to pay!”
Scottie scoffs. “I’ll swing by tomorrow and close out our tab.”
As I fight the nausea threatening to expel at any moment, I put my coat on, willing myself to not look for him.
Why is he here? After his parents moved I truly didn’t think I’d ever see him again. He has no reason to be here.
“Jesus Fucking Christ,” Scottie says under her breath. “Like damn magnets.”
She’s staring behind me. I don’t even have to ask. I know it already. He’s spotted me and he’s coming this way.
“Ellie girl?” His voice is in disbelief, but still so warm and velvety I might just disintegrate on the spot.
I close my eyes, trying to wake up from this dream. It has to be a dream. This isn’t real.
“Ellie,” he repeats. “I know you heard me.”
Gnawing on my bottom lip, I already feel the pressure of moisture stirring behind my eyes. I can’t cry. That would be silly. I can’t cry over things that are my own fault .
I breathe deeply, past caring if he can see the rise of my shoulders if I do, and spin to face him.
My knees give out the second our gazes collide, and it’s only because I’m holding onto the bar that I don’t completely collapse.
Adrian is next to him, but I can barely see him. I can barely see anything—anyone but him. It’s all a blur, only Dominic is clear.
“It is you.”
He steps closer.
I step back.
The disappointment that flashes on his face may as well stab me.
“Hi,” I say, my voice too bright and breathless. “We were just leaving.”
I move to walk past him, but his hand wraps around my elbow softly. Soft enough for me to pull away, but I don’t.
“Stay.” His voice is quiet, just for me. “Let me buy you a drink. Maybe we can talk…”
I don’t want to talk. I’m not ready to talk. And I’m not sure I ever will be.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I tell him with a force in my voice I don’t feel. Maybe if I come off as a bitch, it’ll be better. It’s better if he hates me. It’s easier.
“Feels like déjà vu. Me begging you to stay, you leaving anyway.”
I clench my jaw, tears fighting to come out. “I don’t have time,” I grit, barely holding myself together.
He tilts his head, his eyes raking over my face, seeing too much. I jerk my face down, hating his eyes on me.
“You don’t have five minutes?”
Yanking my elbow out of his hold, I step back. “Not for you, I don’t.”
And then I’m pushing through the crowd, not caring if Scottie is behind me or not. I can’t breathe in here. I need to get out before I suffocate. The second I’m out the back exit, I lean over the railing of the stairs and puke, the tequila projectiling out of me in angry spurts. A few moments later, warm hands are soothing my back.
“Get it all out, babe,” Scottie says in a hushed, motherly tone that’s so unlike her. She’s usually even worse at comforting than I am.
“Why is he here?” I ask, still leaned over the railing. With nothing left to vomit, hot tears start falling down my cheeks.
“I don’t know,” she whispers.
For a while, we’re both quiet. Scottie continuing to rub my back, while I stay suspended, not ready for anyone to see me cry, not even Scottie.
Eventually I have to straighten, too much blood having rushed to my head.
Scottie’s sympathetic eyes meet mine. “Maybe you should talk to him. This isn’t normal. Most people don’t puke after running into an ex. Especially with how long it’s been.”
“He’s different.”
“You’re literally so sick over the breakup that it makes you physically ill. Don’t you think you’d feel a hell of a lot better just telling him what happened and getting it all out in the open? There’s no way this is healthy.”
A sharp pang of anger hits me. “There’s no point in telling him. You know I hate talking about it, I can’t believe you would bring it up right now.”
“I can’t keep watching you not deal with this. Deal with it! Face him!”
I turn, walking down the steps that lead into the narrow ally, my shoes echoing against the payment, breath fogging in my line of vision. I don’t need Scottie—of all people—judging me and my decisions .
“Elle!” She calls out. “Real mature, walking away. You’re a fucking pro at it. Too afraid to handle your shit.”
I keep going, ignoring her. I’m not in the right headspace to deal with anyone, not even my best friend. And the worst part, is she’s not wrong, which makes it hurt so much more. Her words cut to levels I don’t let anyone past. I don’t want to feel this—any of this. I want to forget.
As I turn the corner toward Main Street, I nearly collide with a curly-headed blonde woman. “Sorry Sherry,” I say as my steps falter. Apparently, there’s still some tequila lingering in my system.
She’s leaning against the brick building, a cigarette between her lips as she takes a long drag. She turns her head to exhale the smoke, but keeps her eyes fixed on me.
“Rough night?”
“Something like that,” I tell her, lifting my shoulders. I’m not about to divulge it all to Red Mountain’s queen of gossip.
“Here.” She nudges a box of cigarettes at me. “Have one, it’ll take the edge off.”
I shake my head, eyeing the box. “I don’t smoke, but thanks anyway.”
She nudges it again. “Come on, looks like you’ve been through it. Trust me, it’ll help.”
I’m not sure why, but I reach for it, taking a cigarette out, and handing the box back to her.
“Like this.” She demonstrates, lighting a fresh one for herself and then lighting mine. “All you gotta do is inhale and then blow it out.”
I do as she says. I’ve never smoked anything before and it takes me a few tries to get it right, but when I do, the rush of calm is indescribable. The cool menthol fills my lungs, immediately relaxing me—ridding the taste of vomited alcohol still in my mouth .
“Feels good, huh?” she says, raising her brows. “Always does the trick for me.”
Joining her, I lean against the brick wall and text Shane to come pick me up. Oddly enough, he’s the only one who never bothers me about the breakup, never asks questions about Dominic. As soon as I told my family we had broken up, Shane accepted it without a second thought, and he’s had my back about it ever since.
Sherry tells me she suspects her husband is cheating. I only half-listen, but nod my head along to her story.
What a weird fucking night. With another drag, I close my eyes, tipping my head back and all I see is him. His eyes, how much more grown up he looks now than he did the last time I saw him, how the regret that weaves through me feels like a knot that will tighten enough to kill me one day.
And I hate myself a little more.