Chapter Thirty-Five Alex
“You, me, drinks tonight.”
I look up from my keyboard to see Nick leaning against my doorframe, looking like a damn cover model for Librarian Chic. It’s Friday, and the man is wearing crisp brown slacks and suspenders. I search the small office for whoever he’s supposed to be addressing.
He rolls his eyes. “Yes, Alex, I’m inviting you out.”
“That sounded more like an order than an invitation.”
He closes the door behind him and drops into the seat across from me. “That’s because I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“If this is about your clubs again—”
“Nah, we’ve already worked that out. This is about you being mopey all week long.”
I scowl, both at the description and the idea he knows anything about me. How would he know anything about my week? We haven’t run into each other at all. “I have not been mopey.”
“According to Felix, you have.”
I glare at the door, even though I know Felix isn’t here because he called in ‘sick’ this morning.
“He thinks it’s because your girlfriend turned down your proposal,” Nick continues, his golden eyebrows slowly climbing up his forehead. “Which was news to me, because last I knew, you already had a husband.”
“It’s a long story,” I mutter.
“Which I will be happy to listen to over drinks.” He snatches up a pen and a scrap piece of paper to write on. “Here’s my number. I’ll see you tonight.” He slips the paper toward me and doesn’t bother waiting for an answer as he gets to his feet.
“I haven’t said yes—”
The door closes before I finish.
Sighing, I reach for my phone to complain to Euan about his pushy ex, but when I open it up, I see the last text I sent him yesterday. My subtle attempt to invite him to visit again. Still unanswered.
Maybe he missed it, or someone interrupted him before he could reply. I know he was supposed to have dinner with his parents yesterday.
Or maybe he didn’t know how to turn me down.
I close the messages with Euan and pick up the paper with Nick’s phone number.
Fine, but I pick the bar.
“This is the bar you wanted to come to?” Nick demands, lip curled as he takes in the hotel bar.
“If you don’t want to hang out—”
“No, it’s fine. It’s just …”
While he tries to find the words, I sit down at the counter. The bar is busier than it was the night I met Euan but still pretty empty for a Friday night.
“Quiet,” Nick finally lands on as he takes the stool next to me.
The bartender finishes with her only other customer and takes our order. Nick asks for a hard cider, I ask for a Dirty Girl Scout. When she brings our drinks over, Nick looks at the bright green drink with mild disgust. “What. Is. That?”
“A shot,” I reply, before tossing it back.
“Yes, I’d gathered.” He clutches the bottleneck of his cider like he’s afraid I’m going to swap our drinks when he’s not looking. “Are you looking for liquid courage or are you hoping the mutant green sludge turns you into a superhero?”
“It’s mint,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “And it tastes good. Euan bought one for me when we met.”
“Weird, doesn’t seem like the type of thing he’d drink.”
I ignore him and ask the bartender, “Can I get a Redheaded Slut?”
“Okay, now you’re just fucking with me,” Nick says. Then he watches, mouth agape, as the bartender makes the shot without batting an eye.
“Cranberry,” I say before downing that one too.
Nick holds his hand out, his arm creating a barricade between me and the bartender. “I know I invited you out for a drink, but that was code for ‘let’s talk’ not ‘let’s get shitfaced.’”
“I’ll get him a water,” the bartender replies, her eyes crinkled in a smile. Then she hands me a plastic cup instead of a glass one, as if she’s afraid of me dropping it.
“I’m starting to see how you ended up married,” Nick says, watching me like I’m a bomb he needs to defuse.
“We aren’t,” I mutter, pulling my water cup closer to cradle it in my hands.
“Aren’t what?”
“Married. It turns out the officiant was no longer ordained.”
“Shocking!” Nick exclaims with an exaggerated gasp. “Who would have guessed that someone willing to wed two drunk people would lie to them? What was it, a scam? Did you pay him for it?”
I open my mouth to answer, then pause. “I actually don’t remember.”
“So, you and Euan aren’t really married. And that’s a … good thing?” he asks. “Bad thing? Which direction is this conversation going?”
“It’s a good thing,” I tell him, the words coming out more forcefully than I meant them to. “We were getting an annulment.”
“Oh, okay. Then congrats.” He clinks his cider against my cup of water. “So why are you moping?”
“I’m not moping.”
Nick stares at me in silent judgement.
“Euan went home,” I admit. “On Saturday. And, I don’t know …
we got kind of close while he was here.” Though I probably shouldn’t tell Euan’s ex how close we got.
“With the annulment, he would need to come back to town for the court dates, and we made some vague plans around that. Now we don’t have to worry about that, but … ”
“But you also don’t have an excuse to see him either,” Nick finishes.
“Right.”
“Long distance relationships are hard but at least you met him first,” he says with a self-deprecating smile. “More than can be said for me.”
“We aren’t in a relationship,” I mumble, resting my chin in my hand.
“That’s the problem.” Maybe it’s the shots, or maybe it’s the fact Nick is a good listener, because despite my reservations, I tell him the story from the beginning.
Most of it probably isn’t in the right order, and I wheedle a cocktail out of Nick halfway through, but by the end of it, he knows everything.
“I’m not really sure I needed to know about your anal training,” Nick says, taking a sip from his third cider. “But it does give me a better picture of the problem. You’re in love with Euan and you didn’t tell him and now he doesn’t know.”
I stare blearily at him for a moment, not sure if I’m drunk or if the sentence really doesn’t make sense. “I’m not in love with him. I’ve only known him for a few weeks.”
“You’re definitely in-something with him, and I don’t think it’s lust, because it’s not his dick you miss.”
“I miss his dick too,” I mumble. “Last night I—”
Nick holds up a hand. “I know enough about your masturbation habits already, thanks. My point is: you miss Euan—every part of him.”
I pause, then nod. “I do miss him. So much. I want to be with him. I want him to come back. I want him to stay.”
“So why don’t you just say you want to see him?”
“I tried,” I whine, pulling my phone out of my pocket. “Look—”
Nick rears back before my waving hand accidentally smacks him in the face. He grabs my wrist, then stares at my phone. “Alex, it’s locked.”
I shift it around to unlock it, then open up to the last message I sent Euan and insist again, “Look!”
Nick takes my phone from me and reads the messages. “Man, it’s not interesting snooping through your messages when there’s no sexts or dirty pictures. These conversations are too normal for me. But I’m not seeing any invitations to visit you.”
“The last one,” I insist, scrolling back down to the end and jabbing my finger on the screen. “There.”
Nick stares at it for a long moment. “You mean the one joking about you keeping his T-shirt?”
“Yeah.” I nod morosely. “He hasn’t replied to it.”
“Well, that just won’t do. Let’s try a more direct approach, shall we?” Then he starts typing out a message.
“What are you saying?” I ask, trying to lean over to watch him.
“Please come fuck my brains out.”
“Nick!” I reach for my phone, but he holds it away from me with his stupidly long arms. I stand up, yanking on his arm, trying to pull it down.
“Okay, okay, enough—” the phone drops onto the other side of the bar.
The bartender gives us an unamused look, finishes making the drink for her current customer, and fetches my phone for me.
But when she hands it back, the screen is black, and none of the buttons are responding.
I scowl at Nick. “You broke it!”
“You’re the one who was trying to climb me,” he grumbles.
I keep fiddling with my phone. Maybe if I poke enough buttons it will eventually turn on?
“Look over here.”
I look up, brow furrowed and lips pursed. Nick’s own phone is aimed at me. “What are you doing?”
“Taking some pictures. Come here.” He changes positions and slings his arm over my shoulders. “Smile for the camera!”
“Why?”
“I’m sending a picture to Euan.”
Just hearing his name makes me smile and Nick quickly snaps the photo, then begins texting something.
“What are you doing?” I demand. “Wait, why are you texting him? Stop that. You can’t get back together with him.” When I try to snatch his phone away, he immediately stashes it in his back pocket.
“I have no interest in your husband,” he replies.
“He’s not my husband anymore.” My eyes sting with the words. I cross my arms on the bar and hide my head in them.
A few seconds later, Nick says, “I have a feeling he will be.”
Frowning, I look up to find him smirking down at his phone. “What?”
“He just asked where we are.”