Chapter 2 #2
I don’t know why I say it. I haven’t been called Nessa since my mom was still alive over a decade ago.
Everyone I know either calls me Van or Vanessa, never just Nessa, but it feels fitting.
Tonight is about starting over, so maybe I should be someone else.
Besides, what’s the harm in it? It’s not like I’m ever going to see this guy again.
“Nessa.” He tests it out, and those butterflies make themselves known again. I swear I can feel his tongue shift over each letter. I like it far too much. “It’s nice to meet you, Nessa. I’m Gavin.”
Gavin. I like it. It suits him.
“Hi,” I say again, though I don’t know why. Ugh. I’m really a mess tonight, aren’t I?
He laughs, then nods at the bartender as he sets our fresh drinks in front of us. Needing something to do, I pluck a cherry from the glass and bring it to my lips, sucking the booze off before popping it into my mouth, stem and all.
Gavin never takes his eyes off me. I know because I can feel it. I think back to my college days, where my favorite party trick was tying cherry stems with my tongue, and I do just that. I stick my tongue out, showing off the finished product.
He chuckles. “Very impressive.”
“Thank you,” I say, setting the knot on my napkin, then taking a sip from my drink. “Got any tricks of your own?”
He reaches over, grabs my tied stem, and points at the tip jar sitting quite a way down the bar.
“I’ll make that shot.”
“What? There’s no way,” I argue.
He lifts his brows with a silent Watch me . Then he flicks his wrist and whoosh —the stem lands right on the five-dollar bill sitting at the top.
“Wow. Impressive.” I toss his word back at him dryly, though I truly am impressed.
“It’s all in the wrist,” he explains with a shrug, as if making shots like that is part of his everyday life.
The only other person I’ve ever seen do something like that is Reed, though he’s always holding a hockey stick when he makes it happen.
“So,” I say after a few moments of silence. “What brings you here?”
“Work trip.”
“What kind of work?”
He leans into me, and even though he’s sitting down, it’s obvious how tall this man is.
I have to tip my head back just to look at him.
I should move away, should back up, because we are way closer than two strangers should be, but I don’t.
I’m too busy trying to figure out why he smells like warm cinnamon, cedar, and something else I can’t seem to name.
The scotch, maybe? I don’t know. I’m far too focused on the fact that he’s looking at me like he’s not sure if he trusts me or not.
Satisfied with whatever conclusion he’s come to, he goes back to his own space, and I breathe for what feels like the first time in minutes.
“What brings you here?” He deflects the question, and I allow it, because who cares? It’s not like any of this matters. I could tell him whatever I want, and it wouldn’t mean a damn thing.
I find myself being honest anyway.
“I’m celebrating.” I lift my drink. “Cheers?”
He picks up his Macallan with a grin. “Do I get to know what I’m cheersing to first?”
“My divorce,” I say before clinking my glass to his and taking a drink.
His smile slips…and so does his stare. Right down to the three-carat square-cut diamond sitting on my left hand, the one surrounded by tiny stones. The one that was slipped onto my finger two years ago this summer and that I’ve yet to take off.
I quickly hide the ring, my cheeks heating.
“Okay, so that looked bad,” I say, not meeting his eyes. “I, uh, I?—”
“You don’t need to explain anything to me,” Gavin says softly.
So softly I drag my gaze back to his, looking right into his pity-filled hazel stare. I hate it. I hate it more than the whispers and rumors and knowing Neal won all our friends. I don’t want to be pitied. I want to be understood.
And I have a feeling Gavin will understand.
“I don’t know why I’m still wearing the ring,” I finally say.
“I don’t have any feelings toward the man except contempt.
I just… I don’t know. It’s mine, you know?
I picked it out. It belongs to me. Sure, it once represented something else, but now it’s…
It’s just mine, okay?” I push my shoulders back, raising my chin slightly higher.
His lips twitch at the corners. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Nessa. Or anyone else, for that matter. How you mourn your relationship is your business and nobody else’s.”
I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that.
Sure, I’ve received understanding from some people, but not everyone gets it.
They don’t know what it’s like to have something you wanted so badly fail so spectacularly, especially on such a hurtful level.
They don’t know what it’s like to not be enough for the man you promised your forever to.
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
He takes a long drink before saying, “Never been married. Never really cared either way if I was.”
“Why does it sound like there’s an until tacked on to the end of that?”
He reaches up, scratching at the scruff lining his jaw. It’s such a simple gesture yet somehow very attractive. “You heard that, huh?” He sighs. “It’s complicated.”
I snort. That’s the same thing Neal said to me when I confronted him with The Video. It’s complicated, Vanessa. You don’t understand a man’s needs. I didn’t know it was recording. Not “I’m sorry.” He was never sorry. He was just mad he got caught.
“I know it sounds like a copout, but it’s not, I swear.
” Gavin laughs lightly, bringing me back to the present.
“It’s not like I don’t believe in love or anything like that.
I’m not jaded. I’m just… I’m kind of already married to my job, and it’s a big damn commitment.
It’s also not something I’m ready to give up yet. ”
I repress my sigh. “My ex-husband was the same way. Or at least that’s the excuse he used to work late hours so he could screw his secretary.”
It’s the same excuse he used on our wedding day, too.
We were supposed to be getting the “first look” photos done, and instead of being present and in the moment, he was busy on his phone.
We fought like cats and dogs over it, even delayed the ceremony, and I was this close to calling the whole thing off.
In retrospect, I should have. Maybe it would have saved me the heartbreak, especially since I found out afterward it was his secretary he was talking to.
Instead of saying how sorry he is or commenting on this new revelation at all, Gavin holds his glass up again.
“Cheers?”
It’s so out of left field that I can’t help but laugh— loudly . So loudly that I feel several eyes on us, but I don’t care about them. I’m too focused on the smile growing on Gavin’s face by the second, how the wrinkles that bracket his eyes deepen.
“Sorry,” I say after I’ve finally collected myself. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“You have a nice laugh.”
His words send a blush over my cheeks, and I duck my head. What has gotten into me tonight? Are these amaretto sours more potent than I thought? Why am I flustered by a simple compliment?
I clear my throat, looking back up at Gavin. “So, is this your first time in New York City?”
“Not by a long shot. I make it out here at least once a year, sometimes more.”
“Work?”
He nods. “Always work.”
He almost sounds sad about that, but then I remember how much he enjoys what he does, so maybe he isn’t sad at all. Maybe he’s lonely, like me.
“And you? Is this your first time?” he asks.
“Not by a long shot,” I echo with a grin. “I live here actually. Not in the city, but not too far away either.”
“That’s—”
A group of guys stumbles into the bar, their raucous conversation drawing nearly everyone’s attention, including ours. They’re wearing hockey jerseys, and with the way just about all of them are swaying on their feet, I assume they were at the game earlier.
“And then you should have seen that fucker from Seattle. He was so pissed. Put his glove in Reiner’s face, and it was all bets off. Fucking yard sale out there,” one of the guys says, throwing punches into the air, mimicking what I guess happened at the game.
I wouldn’t know. Despite my family trying to get me into it over the years and Reed playing, I never developed an interest, so I skipped out on the game and stayed in my hotel room until I couldn’t take the silence anymore.
“Anyway,” I say, turning back to Gavin, “you were?—”
“Do you want to get out of here?” he asks abruptly.
I pause, surprised by his words.
“Sorry. I know that sounded like a line or something.” He runs a hand through his hair with a soft laugh. “It’s just getting a little rowdy and I’m enjoying talking to you and I figured…” He trails off, slipping from his stool and holding his hand out my way. “What do you say, love?”
I stare up at his towering height. His broad shoulders, long legs, and toned arms. That short beard that’s doing things to me it shouldn’t be doing and those damn hazel eyes I can’t stop looking at.
I shouldn’t. I should go back to the hotel and meet up with my parents.
Say hi to my brother and his girlfriend.
I should do anything other than say yes to leaving with this man I don’t know.
But I can’t bring myself to say the words or turn him down. So, I don’t. I slip my hand into his and let him pull me into the night.