Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
My dick has become hard like a dead log in winter.
I just hope it won’t break. By the pain in my pants, I’m not so sure it won’t.
I haven’t gone this long without having actual sex since I was in high school.
Fine, college. I like to aggrandize my memories from back then.
Like Virginia, I went through an awkward stage.
Okay, not as awkward as her, but now I look at her photo from high school and I see the beautiful woman she’s turned into.
I don’t even have to stretch the imagination.
That much. She’s there under those braces, glasses, and stringy hair.
If I had known her then, I would have hit on her.
Seriously, I would have. She’s the same person.
I don’t want to pummel V our first time together.
Finding balance means one too many hand jobs in the meantime.
We’ve barely texted, both of us more busy with work than we’d like as the year starts coming to a close.
She’s been working late most nights and I’m working every night this week so I can get Saturday off. It’s been a good distraction.
You know what’s not?
Isabella Collins.
And here I thought it would be just another Thursday night. I sense her the second she and the storm that swarms around her enter The Hideaway. Checking my watch. 9:37 p.m. There’s something about her being here at this hour on a school night that tells me trouble just walked in.
Her eyes are on me the moment she walks in, which sucks because she catches my eyes on her.
I look down quickly, pretending to wash glasses.
She knows me better than I’d like to admit, though to my credit, she only really knows the old me—asshole investment advisor, modern loft with massive parties, and two thousand dollar suits.
Well the suits haven’t changed. I still like a nice suit and my watch collection, but I don’t have to wear them every day.
Only when I want. Wonder if I should wear my charcoal Vittori on our date.
Date is used loosely since Virginia friend-zoned me last weekend.
After Saturday, I’m going to be dancing in her end zone. Wait, what?
“Hello, Hardy.”
Looking up, I see Isabella. I’d almost forgotten about her. Almost. “Slumming, Isabella?”
“You’re always raving about Brooklyn, so I thought I’d come visit.”
I rest my palms on the bar, and ask, “Are you visiting the borough or me?”
“Can’t I be doing both?”
“You were always one for ulterior motives.”
She slips onto the stool in front of me. “You know what I like.”
I do. She’s predictable in every way. In other words, she’s the complete opposite of Virginia.
While making her vodka soda, I start trying to remember what attracted me to Isabella in the first place.
It’s been a while since I’ve thought back to those days in detail.
Mostly because so much of it was blurred by the booze.
It’s funny that now that I own a bar, I drink less overall.
Most days I don’t drink at all. Tonight, thanks to the woman sitting in front of me, won’t be one of those days.
I twist the lime into the drink and add a lime peel curly on the top.
I still have standards, even if I despise the customer.I grab a glass and pour a whiskey neat for myself.
I take a good pull before setting it down, and asking, “What really brings you by?”
“You.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“Nothing to be afraid of. I’ve just been thinking about you.”
The bar is fairly calm at this time, so Clive has it handled. When I turn back to her, I say, “Don’t. Don’t think about me. You’re married. We’ve been long over.”
Her index finger runs the rim of her glass several times. “What if we didn’t have to be?”
“I don’t date married women.” I give the most obvious out to end this.
“What if I wasn’t married anymore?”
I take another long drink of the alcohol before I burst out laughing. The insult is seen in her eyes since most of her face doesn’t move. “I wish I could say I was surprised.”
“Maybe some sympathy is in order.”
“What game are you trying to play? We did nothing but fight.”
“We were young.”
“We’re not that much older. Four years.”
“I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime in that four years.” She takes a sip and then says, “I caught him fucking his secretary.” This time the glass is to her lips much longer and when the glass is set down, half is gone.
“I’m sorry.” I mean it too. No one deserves to be cheated on and in such a cliché manner makes it worse. “Are you still together?”
“No. I left a month ago. He’s fighting me on all fronts—financially and for custody of our son. I haven’t gotten to see him in three weeks.”
My head is shaking in disgust before she finishes.
We may not have been #MFEO but kids need both parents, even if separately.
I cover her hand because I’m not heartless.
I can tell she needs a friend or a bartender.
This comes with the territory. “You deserve better and I have no doubt the final judgment will be in your favor.”
Her hand covers mine. “Thank you. I knew you’d understand.”
“Hi.”
Just right of her, the brunette I’ve been dying to see all week is standing with a grimace on her face, her eyes on my hand that’s currently comforting Isabella. I slide it out and wipe it on my pants. “Hey, V, you’re here?” It comes out like a question though I didn’t intend it that way.
“My apologies. Did I interrupt?” Virginia looks at Isabella before her gaze returns to me.
I’m about to speak, but Isabella beats me to it, “Yes.”
“No,” I correct. “No, you didn’t.” I hurry from behind the bar and come around to the front. Taking Virginia’s glove covered hand, I nod toward the back. “Want to talk in private?”
I start to walk, but her feet stay firmly planted to the spot. “Do we need to talk in private, Hardy?”
“What? No, I was only offering since you just got here.” I’m babbling like a guilty fucking fool. Shit. I need to fix this. “It’s good to see you.” I lean forward to kiss her on the cheek but she backs out of reach. Shit. Shit. Shit.
She sits down on the stool next to Isabella and I don’t like the looks of this at all.
Until I remember that we are friends. Only friends, according to her.
And since she’s all about the asshole still, I don’t owe her anything.
Nothing but a drink, and a fuck on Saturday, but that’s beside the current point I’m trying to make.
I start to make a Paloma and dump ice in the tall glass, but she says, “I’ll have what she’s having. ”
Shit. She’s mad.
Fortunately they use the same glass. I start pouring vodka that I personally like and give her a little extra.
It’s not like she’s driving home or anything.
While I’m cocktail concocting, Isabella turns to Virginia, who’s taking her coat and gloves off, and says, “Hello. I’m Isabella Treaton of Connecticut. ”
Maiden name. She used her maiden name. I think the trouble I mentioned walking in before has just become a quicksand trap. I’m not falling for it.
“We’ve met before. When I was out with Hardy at a restaurant in the city. I’m Virginia Ryan of Manhattan.”
How she says that with a straight face is beyond me but I’m going to give her extra special sexual love on Saturday for doing it. Isabella’s gaze head to toes her, and then says, “Manhattan. Huh? I would have surely thought one of the outer boroughs.”
Oh shit.
Just when Virginia is about to roar, I say, “Did you know that hippos are too dense to really be buoyant to swim so they are considered semi-aquatic animals who jog or run up to fifteen miles an hour under water?”
Both women are staring at me, and my mind goes blank under the harsh glares. Virginia finally says, “Lowry asked me if I would be at the holiday party.”
I grab my glass and down the rest of the whiskey.
When I slam it down on the bar mat, I shake my head.
I thought I was at a loss for words before, but now I have plenty I’d like to say, but seeing as this is my establishment, it would be unprofessional to use them here and now. “And what did you say?”
“I said with bells on.”
My neck is tight, so I bend it to the side to stretch it out before grabbing the whiskey and pouring another drink. “Maybe you should wear red.”
“I have the perfect dress.”
“I just bet the fuck you do.”
Isabella says, “Hardy.” When I leave the fiery green eyes that are making my blood boil, I’m met with blues of no variation, no depth, and don’t hold my interest. “That was rude.”
“I’m sorry I don’t live up to your standards. You’re welcome to see yourself out.”
She looks taken aback and hurt. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not like you to be rude like this.”
“What do you know about me? Nothing. You’re trying to rekindle a flame that I’m trying to blow out for good. Don’t you get it, Isabella? We were done long before we broke up. So I don—”
She bursts into tears before my very eyes. Whoa!
I’ve never seen her cry. Not even when I broke up with her. And she’s sobbing. Virginia wraps her arm around her, and says, “Come with me to the bathroom. We’ll get you some tissues.”
Now I burst out, but not into tears. “What the fuck is going on? No. You can’t do that.”
“What is wrong with you?” Virginia’s voice is hard, not familiar to me at all. The way she’s looking at me makes me reel back. Me? She’s scolding me?
“Is this rhetorical?” I ask because I’m truly unsure if she wants me to answer or not.
“You’re being an ass, Hardy.”
“You would know since that’s what you like.”
“Screw you.” She walks away with Isabella.
And if I’m not totally mistaken, when Isabella looks back, I see that wicked evil grin of hers hidden beneath her fake sobs.
“Fuck me,” I say, turning away.
Clive says, “Man that was tough to watch. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone actually land and then get burned, but you managed to do just that. I thought you were in the clear, and then bam!”
“Okay. I get it. I’m fucked.”
“Seven ways to Sunday, my friend.”
I decide I need to make amends with Virginia and get Isabella out of my life for good. This whole scenario with her is feeling a little too reminiscent of our life together. I toss the towel on the counter and head for the bathroom.
My poor lamb was unknowingly led to the slaughter. Virginia comes out of the bathroom with Isabella behind her. Now it’s V’s tears that shine under the lights. I rush to her, but she pushes me away. “What happened?”
“You know.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Don’t play innocent, Hardy. If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you were never innocent.” She starts for the door, but I take her arm.
“Wait.”
“No,” she says and yanks her arm free. “And about Saturday.”
“What about it?”
She glances to Isabella who has stopped the dramatics long enough to enjoy the entertainment. “She told me what you said to her before I walked in. I know you were going to take her to your office.”
“Choose your next words carefully, V.”
“I don’t have to be careful. The truth speaks for itself.
” She puts her jacket on and throws the gloves at my face.
“Lowry asked me out for my birthday. I told him I had plans already, but I think I’ve changed my mind.
” One last look. One last hate filled look is given before she says, “Goodbye, Hardy.”
I could argue with her all day, but we’ll get nowhere with so much anger between us. So I turn mine to the woman who deserves it.
Isabella shrugs her pointed shoulders. “She has no strength or trust. A weak woman could never stand by your side.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Nothing that you don’t do any other night of the week.”
“That woman,” I say, sighing as my heart bleeds through my chest while shattering inside. “She’s the only one I care about and you destroyed that. You destroyed the goodness that she had inside her.”
“Hardy, we could be so good together again.”
My emotions go numb, my heartbeats dull. My gaze hits her, and disgust returns. “Get the fuck out of my bar, and stay out of my fucking life.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I’m done.” With Isabella. With love. With everything.
I walk away, leaving the blonde behind me just where she should have always stayed—in my past.