Chapter 38
Ryleigh
Tuesday night is busier than usual, and a bartender called in sick, so now I’m behind the bar doing my level best to make drinks I’ve never heard of or have no idea what goes in them. Luckily, we have a bunch of regulars hanging out, so they find it hilarious that I’ve got my phone open so I can look up how to make all these drinks they’re asking for. I think some of them are doing it on purpose, just to make everyone laugh.
The tips are pretty good, though.
There’s at least a hundred bucks in the tip jar so far, and it’s only nine o’clock.
“I’d like to buy a round for the bar,” an eerily familiar voice says.
I don’t turn right away because I don’t want to be disappointed—or freak out in front of everyone.
But all the regulars are cheering, calling out drink orders, so I have no choice.
Damn him.
What is Angus doing here?
How did he find me?
And why would he show up now?
I’ve done everything in my power to stay under the radar and if he gets me fired, I’m going to be pissed.
I pull in a deep breath through my nose, hoping to steady my nerves, but I don’t think it does much of anything.
Since I can’t think of anything to say, I reach up and ring the bell, letting everyone know free drinks are forthcoming. There’s more cheering and I turn around, starting to make another round. Everyone is just getting what they already have—I don’t have the energy to start over.
Long Island Iced tea.
Three Budweisers in a bottle.
Two Aperol Spritzes.
A glass of chardonnay.
A glass of merlot.
Two splits of champagne.
Two Mai Tais.
A gimlet.
Two draft beers.
A handful of tequila shots.
And finally, for the old guy on the end, a porn star martini.
When I’m done, I ring it up and turn to Angus, who seems to be waiting patiently.
“That’s a hundred and seventeen,” I say as calmly as possible.
He hands me two hundred-dollar bills. “Keep the change.”
The idea of taking money from him grosses me out so I shake my head, get the change from the register, and put it on the bar in front of him.
He sighs but there’s a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
I don’t know what’s going on but I feel a little sick.
“Nothing for you?” I ask blandly.
“You know what I like.”
I turn, grab a bottle of Sam Adams Summer Lager out of the fridge, open it, and put it on the bar. I know he doesn’t want a glass.
“Seven,” I say.
He hands me a ten.
This time, I put the three dollars in change in the tip jar.
I’m proud but not stupid.
“Can we talk?” he asks after taking a pull.
“I’m working,” I reply.
“It took me a while to find you.”
“Maybe because I didn’t want to be found.”
He nods. “I know you’re upset with me but?—”
“We are not doing this here,” I snap, slapping my hand down on the bar and staring into his eyes. “If you’re here to get me fired, then do what you’ve got to do. If not, just leave. Please. I’ve moved on—so should you.”
“ Babe . I’m not here to get you fired.” His voice is soft, almost hurt, but I don’t have time to worry about his feelings. The bar is busier than ever, and I’m the only one back here.
“Then go find somewhere else to have a drink. I don’t have time for this.” I turn and head to the two women who just sat down. They order two glasses of Chablis and start a tab, and now I have orders from the wait staff coming up on the computer.
Two pina coladas and a Sex on the Beach.
Luckily, those are all easy.
I’m lost in work for about ten minutes and almost forget about Angus, except when I turn around, he’s still sitting at the bar, chatting away with a couple of my regulars.
“Angus, for real—what are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you to get off work.”
“That probably won’t be until after midnight, and regardless, I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“This guy bothering you, Ry?” One of the waiters, a guy named Dane, calls out to me.
“No, he’s fine.” I wave Dane off but glare at Angus. “Seriously—I need this job. Can you please not do this?”
“I’m not doing anything. I was going to order some food, though. What do you recommend?”
I give him a death stare but he seems oblivious, and it’s starting to piss me off.
When things slow down a little around eleven, I escape to the ladies’ room, trying to get my nerves under control. I do my business, wash my hands, and dab on a little lipstick. I look tired and pale, despite my best efforts since I wasn’t planning to be behind the bar tonight, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.
I step into the hallway and—there he is.
All six feet three yummy inches of him.
Lounging against the wall like the tall, tattooed drink of water he is.
“I’m here to say I’m sorry,” he says before I can react. “And I have a lot to tell you if you’ll give me a chance.”
“Like you gave me a chance?” I snap, hands on my hips. “I asked you to let me find out what was going on, but you dismissed me like I was nothing to you.”
“You’re right. I fucked up. And I’m so, so sorry.” His eyes are soft, filled with regret.
How many times did I dream about a moment like this?
More than I can count.
But that ship has sailed.
“Too little, too late,” I say quietly, trying to brush past him.
“Please give me a chance,” he whispers, gently taking my arm.
“Let go.”
“Baby, I’ll do anything you want—just give me ten minutes to talk to you.”
“I don’t have ten minutes.” I pull my arm out of his grasp and walk back out to the bar.
* * *
It’s close to one in the morning before I lock up the restaurant, set the alarm, and walk out to my car. Dane and one of the cooks, Toby, are with me and they both step in front of me when they spot Angus waiting by my car.
“It’s all right,” I say. “He’s not going to hurt me.”
“You sure?” Toby asks dubiously.
“I promise. I’m fine.” I wave to them and then stalk over to my car. “Okay, you have five minutes. Say what you want to say and then leave.”
“I know it wasn’t you,” he says quickly. “Remember Ben? Our bus driver? Apparently, Rich paid him to spy on us. He was recording everything we said on the bus.”
For a moment I’m dumbfounded—I never expected that. “Wow. I wouldn’t have suspected him at all.”
“Me either. I’m suing him, actually. He signed an NDA when Sasha hired him, so I hope whatever Rich paid him was worth it.”
“Oh. Uh, well, good.”
“I’m also in the process of staging a hostile takeover.”
I frown.
Now I’m really confused.
“A what?”
“Actually, my father—well, Uncle Alex—is. He’s buying Rock Harder Magazine .”
I stare at him for a minute, pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place.
Now I understand what’s happening.
Or at least part of it.
He found out I didn’t do what he thought I did, so he’s using his money and connections to buy my forgiveness. I mean, suing Ben has nothing to do with me, but I can see the writing on the wall: He’ll buy the magazine and fire Rich. He might even offer me a job.
I shudder at the thought.
It’s way too late for that.
I appreciate it, but nothing he does can repair the damage to our relationship.
He hurt me deeply, and using his money to hurt someone else—albeit someone who deserves it—doesn’t fix what’s at the core of our problems.
“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” I say softly. “Really. But here’s the thing—do you remember what you said before you ended our last phone call?”
He frowns slightly. “Which thing?”
“When you told me you’d never be able to trust me again?”
He nods stiffly.
“That’s where I’m at. Nothing you say or do will make me trust you with my heart, ever again, so while I truly appreciate that you’re going to make Rich pay for what he did—it doesn’t change anything. Not really. I don’t hate you, and I don’t want to end things on a bad note. But I can’t be with you because I don’t know that you’ll take my side the next time something goes wrong in life. Which it will.” I reach out and gently stroke the back of my hand across his cheek.
“Ryleigh…” He tries to talk but I put my fingers on his lips.
“Take care of yourself, Angus.”
Then I get in my car, turn on the ignition, and drive away, leaving my heart and my soul behind.