Chapter 5
A SIP OF BEER AND A WINK
NICK
“I don’t understand why you couldn’t check the gas when you pulled the car out of the garage,” Candy griped, sighing exaggeratedly.
“I just didn’t, okay?” Sometimes I simply forgot shit.
Like checking the gas. We didn’t drive often, so it wasn’t a habit.
It wasn’t like I’d intentionally forgotten so we would miss our dinner reservations.
Hearing Candy bitch and moan wasn’t exactly like listening to a great opera, so I very much preferred to avoid it at all costs.
She groaned and fussed with her hair. It looked fine. It wasn’t changing, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to transport us back in time. “If you did, then you could’ve gotten gas before we had to leave, and we wouldn’t have missed our dinner reservations.”
Oh, the atrocity that we missed our dinner reservations. Quick, I think I’ll bite my nails as I sit and stew with remorse over this—the most insignificant thing in the world. As if I hadn’t heard that same sentiment half a dozen times on the two-hour drive from the city. I could goddamn recite it.
Yes, I’d stopped for gas, which meant we’d pulled over.
Yes, when we’d gotten back on the highway, we’d hit traffic. A lot of traffic.
Yes, she’d complained about it plenty.
I was just glad we were finally here.
“I can’t believe this.” She waved her narrow hand in the air, the single, vibrant ruby on her finger catching my eye and sucker-punching me in the gut. “Where will we dine?” she asked.
But I wasn’t concerned with answering her. Instead, the memory of when I’d given her that ring flooded me. It had been our first Christmas together…
“Open your present first,” I said, passing her the palm-sized box that had been burning a hole in my pocket since we’d woken up that morning.
The only other time that had happened had been with her engagement ring.
I could hardly wait to see her expression, to memorize her reaction and replay it in my mind for years to come.
Giddy, Candy clapped her hands. The corners of her lips tilted upward, and the smile reached her eyes.
“You know how much I love tiny boxes.” My heart thundered in my chest as I waited for her to retrieve the box from my hand.
Before she did, though, she slipped hers around my neck, dragging in a long breath as she pressed up against me.
The sun was hardly up, but we were cherishing this time together early on Christmas morning before our families descended.
I nodded, grinning like a fool. “I know.” I set it down on the floor and wrapped my arms around her. If we never got off this floor, I’d be perfectly content. But to see my baby wearing the pigeon’s blood red ruby I got her…
“Well?” she probed, jarring me from the memory.
Shaking my head, I narrowed my eyes and cocked a brow. What was her question again? “Well, what?”
She rubbed her temple like she’d asked me one of the most important questions in the world, and I was the worst because I dared to let it slip my mind.
It couldn’t have been that important if I didn’t recall it, so there.
“Where will we dine?” Exactly as I thought—nothing pressing.
“It’s not like any of the nice restaurants will be able to take us as walk-ins. ”
There was a time when she didn’t need to eat at a nice restaurant, all she needed was me.
I had been enough for her. I cracked my neck and searched my brain for options.
It wasn’t like we weren’t without food at the house, but I knew neither of us could cook it to save our souls.
Candy never had been much of a homemaker in that way.
In the early years, I’d learned that the hard way.
No, the burned way…maybe even the rubbery way.
“Why don’t we go to the pub?” It was close by. The food was good. Getting in certainly wouldn’t be an issue. Hell, it might be nice to be served a beer instead of serving them for a night.
She turned to me, her face scrunching up in a disgusted look. Jesus, she looked like she smelled crap. “The place you work at occasionally so you can pretend you’re blue-collar, not a billionaire?”
Here we go again. My jaw twitched, and I glanced upward momentarily, praying for the strength to repeat myself for the hundredth time.
I should record it so that next time I didn’t have to waste my breath on this tired, old conversation.
I mean, fuck me, the way she made it sound.
“I like to stay busy. I like talking to people,” I reminded her.
The sheer prospect of me sitting home all day, reading the news or some other mundane shit made my skin crawl.
Why was it such a crisis that I had an easygoing job with good guys to fill my time once in a while?
With a voice dripping with disdain, Candy shot back something I was sure she had been sitting on for a while. “Maybe you should be a shrink if you like talking to people so much.”
Burn. “Maybe you should see a shrink to cure you of your shopping addiction.” Two could play her little game. Her juvenile little game.
She crossed her wrists and turned to look out the window, not another remark from her lips to fill the air between us.
I took a turn off the road we were on because I supposed we were going to the pub. At this point, I would’ve eaten at the gas station. Anything to put some space between us for a few minutes.
The strangling silence from the last leg of our car ride finally ceased when I tugged open the door to the pub. The place was jam-packed. Jack was in the corner playing guitar, keeping patrons entertained while Brady worked behind the bar.
Candy’s eyes darted every which way, her lips turning downward in one of the cutest frowns I’d ever seen.
Too bad behind it was a snarky comment just waiting to come out.
Only for my benefit, though. She wouldn’t dare speak her mind in public.
It might ruin the perception that people had of us.
One reason why none of our friends knew about my job here.
I kept it to myself, because no one needed to know, but it would’ve been nice for my wife to support me instead of looking down her nose at the place I chose to work.
“Come on,” I demanded, grabbing Candy’s arm in a tight grip.
She peered down at where my hand was but didn’t move an inch to try to get me off. “This is where you work?” she asked tiredly.
“That it is,” I answered, smirking.
She clutched her purse against her body.
The way her leather handbag was out of place had nothing on the shoes, designer pantsuit, and fur coat she wore.
It was very obvious she hadn’t set out to come here for dinner.
Not that I could talk because I was wearing chinos, a sweater, and a heavy coat. “It’s nice.”
Nice was Candy’s passive-aggressive way of saying she’d seen better. I’d heard her use it with our friends way too many times to count. Not that I wanted to count. That sounded fucking mind-numbing.
I motioned to the bar where I spotted two empty seats.
“I’ll introduce you to one of my bosses.
” But first, it was as hot as a furnace in here, what with all the warm bodies, so I shed my coat, slipping it onto the rack in the corner.
I gestured for Candy’s, but she only shook her head.
Apparently, she would rather smother than part with her fur.
Rapping my knuckles on the bar, Brady looked up, and I waved a hand in the air.
“Hey, you can’t stay away, can you?” he questioned.
I laughed. “Nah. My wife wanted some mediocre food, so I thought of this place.” I angled my head to Candy and smiled. “Candy, this is Brady.”
“Did you say wife?” Brady asked, wiping his hands on the dish towel he kept behind the bar. He stepped over and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Candy.”
She licked her lips and shook Brady’s hand. “I take it Nick doesn’t talk about me often,” she noted. Inside she was probably wondering what she’d done in her life to have to suffer through this. Luckily, she was a fantastic actress.
Grimacing, Brady shot his gaze to me. “No,” he stammered, but before he could backpedal or feel bad for sticking his foot in it, I cleared my throat.
“It’s a busy pub. Can’t sit around talking about my life.” I also didn’t exactly know how to pair I have a wife with she’ll never come here and wouldn’t want to meet you, so don’t ask.
“That’s right. You just enjoy listening to others talk about theirs,” Candy shot back, daggers in her eyes for me.
I raked a hand through my hair. What did she want from me? “Think we can get the house special?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.
Brady nodded. “Sure thing. Allegra’s in the back. I’ll have her bring it out to you soon. Listen, it was nice to meet you, Candy.” He grinned, nudging his chin toward me. “Nick,” he said before walking away.
I wished I could walk away. I turned to Candy, who was barely letting her fingertips touch the edge of the bar as she sat, waiting for her meal.
The air was so strained between us, I didn’t know what to say.
Instead, I drank the foamy beer Brady slipped in front of me.
Candy’s sat untouched in front of her. As if she’d let beer grace her perfectly puffy lips.
Poor Brady, he had no idea just who my wife was.
“Is it always this…crowded?” Candy asked, looking around.
I let my gaze wander for a beat before shrugging. “No, but it is Saturday night, and I don’t work Saturday nights.” It was part of the deal when I took the job—no weekends. Candy often had plans for us, parties or dinners with friends, so I didn’t want this to get in the way of that.
Candy opened her mouth but shut it when a woman walked out with a baby on her hip, carrying a plate of food. I knew the woman was Brady’s fiancée, but at the look she gave her, I had a feeling Candy didn’t anticipate that.
“Allegra,” I greeted to clue Candy in at my side. “Good to see you.”
“Likewise.” She smiled, and I’d swear the room lit up even brighter.
Candy’s smile used to be like that, but no longer.
That was the thing about Allegra, though.
I’d only been around her a handful of times, and it was obvious that she was like the sun…
bright and cheerful. Brady often said that was one of his favorite things about her.
“Nice to meet you,” Candy said, turning the charm on. “I’m Nick’s wife, Candy.” Her voice was filled with a conviction and certainty that had my veins feeling like they were being lit with a match.
Allegra peered down at her daughter, who was curling her hair around her chubby finger. “Candy,” she repeated as she slid the dish in front of my wife. “What a pretty name.”
I couldn’t agree more. Like her, there wasn’t anything average about the name.
“Thank you.”
Allegra nodded. “This is Gina. She’s a little fussy, so I decided to bring her down to see Daddy.
What I didn’t know was that Daddy would be putting us to work,” she informed us, while offering her daughter animated expressions.
She looked back up for a beat, her eyes landing on me. “Yours will be right out, Nick.”
“No worries.” I extended a hand to touch Gina’s chubby toes. “Yeah, we were just talking about how busy it is here,” I pointed out, turning around to take another pass over the place. I didn’t think there was an empty seat to be found.
Eyes lighting up, the corners of Allegra’s lips curled upward. “You don’t remember what tonight is, do you?” She bounced Gina on her hip.
“What’s tonight?” Candy inquired, flipping over the fish on her fish and chips plate. Maybe I should’ve ordered her the Irish stew instead.
Before Allegra could answer, Jack stopped playing his guitar and his booming voice filled the pub over the mic. “All right, it’s that time. Where are all of my swinging Santas?”
Swinging Santas…what the fuck fresh hell had I just walked into?
How could I have forgotten?
That was it. We were getting out of here. Candy should be happy, especially because she’d yet to actually take a bite of her dinner.
“Don’t be shy. If you’re a swinger, make yourself known.”
Like hell we were. Candy was mine, even if it was for only one more Christmas. We weren’t the sharing type. We were pretty selfish in that fucking way, especially me.
I grunted and grabbed Candy’s wrist. “We’re leaving.” We could make our great escape like Allegra had clearly done, stepping away from the bar and into the back somewhere around the time Jack scared the shit out of me.
Jack was still giving instructions on how my worst nightmare was about to go down, but Candy jerked away from me. She stood suddenly, pushing away the invisible wrinkles from her clothes. “No. I think we should stay.”
I thought a lot of things too, but it didn’t mean that I said them all aloud.
I stood up at her side and leaned in. “We’re not swingers.
” I slammed my teeth together. And we never would be because I didn’t want to screw another woman.
I wanted to screw my wife, and if that wasn’t happening, then I wasn’t screwing anyone.
Yeah, that was right, I was a saint, deserved a medal, and didn’t give a shit about any of it.
A mischievous smile crossed her face before she reached for her beer and brought the frothy drink to her lips.
She actually took a drink. It was a good thing I witnessed that firsthand, otherwise I wasn’t sure I would’ve believed that she just had her first ever sip of beer…
the one drink she had no tolerance for the smell of.
“How was that?” I asked, cocking a brow.
“Disgusting.” Then she winked at me. A sip of beer and a wink? What the hell was running through the vents in this place? “I know we’re not swingers, but there’s no harm in having a little fun, right?”
Fun would have been tossing her over my shoulder and smacking that cute, little ass of hers until we got to the car where I ate her out, grateful we had tinted windows.
“Take up knitting.”
“I think I’ll take up swinging Santa instead.”
Defiant. Insolent. Headstrong. Now this was the unmanageable woman I’d married.