24. Anthony
Chapter 24
Anthony
I HATE WAKING up alone. I hate going to bed alone. I hate making a small pot of coffee. I hate taking a shower by myself and seeing the shampoo and conditioner that isn’t mine sitting in the shower, taunting me.
I hate that I’m too busy to go to my spot on the beach and sit and think. I hate the snot-nosed little kids that are running around like hooligans and absolutely refuse to listen to me when I tell them not to run, because their parents sure as shit can’t be bothered to do it.
I want Darcy. I want to wake up with her. I want her teasing me. I want everything about her, always. But I sure as shit haven’t figured out a way to tell her. I need to—hell, I want to, but she retreated like a turtle after the blow-up with her dad yesterday. I dropped her off at her house as requested, then came back to work to focus on anything that wasn’t Darcy. The problem was that everything I saw reminded me of her. The bowling lanes, obviously. Pool tables that didn’t hold a candle to the masterpiece she’d hand-crafted for me upstairs. The drinks I made, each one somehow tying back to her. And I slept like shit, grabbing the silk pillow next to me and breathing in her scent, which only got me hard instead of helping me drift off to sleep.
I’m a fucking wreck.
I don’t like seeing her sad. But I can’t fix that. It’s not my place, and if I want any kind of lasting thing with her, then I sure as shit don’t need to stick my nose into her and her dad’s relationship.
Should I text her? I should.
I dump the empty glasses into the bin behind the bar and whip my phone out before I can overthink it.
Good morning, gorgeous.
She doesn’t respond, but I know that Sundays are the one day she lets herself sleep in. If it were any other Sunday, I’d have slept in with her, then I’d have woken her by worshipping her body with my mouth. I’d have left this chaos to Harrison.
Harrison, who I’m realizing has been quietly taking on more and more responsibility around here.
The kid himself appears in my periphery, standing and talking with a parent outside of one of the party rooms. He finishes with a nod and a business-like smile, then turns my way.
His smile fades as he nears me. “What did I do?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like that.”
“I’m just looking.”
He squints. “Yeah, but you might be kind of…smiling? I don’t know. But you’re freaking me out, man. Is Darcy making you nice ?”
“How long have you been working here?”
His brow furrows. “Ten years. You know I started here when I was sixteen, right?”
I consider it. “Damn.”
He laughs. “I have a degree in business, Anthony.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing here?” I counter.
“Seriously? You need someone looking out for your grumpy ass. And who else is going to do all the shit around here that needs doing for the pittance you pay me?”
“You need a raise.”
He grins. “Of course I do. You should double my salary.”
I scoff. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
He leaves, and sure as shit, I spend the next few hours wondering what in the hell I’m actually doing. With myself. With Darcy. Hell, even Harrison.
Seems I’ve had my head stuck all the way up my ass for quite some time, but no one was bothering to say anything. Or maybe they were, and I just wasn’t hearing it. Either way, I need to fucking focus.
Harrison’s the easiest. The guy really does need a raise and title change, because he runs way more of this place than I’ve bothered to realize. It’s definitely not me talking to the parents, that’s for sure. Hell, I’m willing to bet that anyone who doesn’t live here probably thinks that Harrison is the owner. So, fine. Done. I make a note to pull him to the side and talk with him about it all soon. Today is insane.
Darcy. Darcy, Darcy, Darcy. Wiping the bar after a patron throws cash on it and runs after a kid, I still don’t quite know what to do.
I love her.
But is that enough? I truly don’t know. It should be, but…
Fuck. I don’t know. It’s frustrating.
“What’s got you looking so down in the dumps?”
With a jerk of my head, I make eye contact with my brother. “Ox.”
He smirks. “I should make you call me Chief.”
“The fuck you will,” I grumble.
He laughs. “You started making plans for the celebration?”
“No.”
“Of course you haven’t. You need to at least make sure Harrison knows.”
“Knows what?” Harrison appears at the end of the bar.
“About our parents’ wedding anniversary-slash-Dad’s-retirement-party that we’re having.”
His head swivels to me. “And you didn’t think to mention this?”
I shrug. “Haven’t gotten around to it.”
His jaw ticks.
Ox laughs. “It’s August 25th.”
Immediately, Harrison pulls the iPad open and consults it, then heaves a sigh of relief. “We’re good. Nothing’s booked.”
“We’re not having it here,” I bark.
Harrison raises an eyebrow at me. “Okay.”
With a glare at Ox, I say, “Which is why it wasn’t a big deal that I mention it to you.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he muses, rubbing his chin, “You not being here all day is something I’d need to know.”
I roll my eyes. “I admit that you do a bunch more around here than I give you credit for, and suddenly you’re giving me attitude?”
He grumbles something under his breath, then leaves.
Ox watches him go, then turns back to me. “Okay, spill it. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. You’re mopeyer than usual.”
“That’s not a word.”
“You know what I mean, asshole. Answer the question.”
“I liked it better when I could put you in a headlock.” I tilt my head, considering. “I bet I still could.”
Ox crosses his arms and glares at me. “And I bet I’d arrest you for assaulting a police officer.”
“It might be worth it.”
He chuckles. “Seriously. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing you can help me with.”
Ox wedges himself against the bar, leaning onto his elbows and getting as close to me as possible. “Anthony. Quit being a grumpy-ass grump and tell me what’s wrong. You should know that I’m like a dog with a bone, man. Tell me.”
I walk away to serve a customer, and my brother, persistent asswipe that he is, stays exactly where he is, waiting patiently. Fucking cops. Fucking brothers. Fucking brothers who are cops.
“You like her. No—you love her,” Ox declares when I finally make my way back to him.
I stare.
He grins. “Knew it.”