Chapter 10
Chuck: With the way she’s walking, it’s a wonder she hasn’t got fire under her ass.
Lou: She does seem to be fuming.
Chuck: Walking like a player who just chucked her favorite putter.
I quicken my pace down the sidewalk. The Spanish curses that leave my mouth would make my mother proud, or extremely angry.
I couldn’t give a rat’s ass with how flustered I am after being in the same room as the most fucking hot and cocksure man I know.
Why couldn’t Clinton come back a haggard old man or married?
No, absolutely not. Thinking of him married to anyone but me makes my breathing stop.
Married to anyone but me? Inwardly I shake my head at the thought, not recognizing myself.
The moment I leave the charity tournament meeting, I head straight to the bar.
I grip the door handle to Shaken Tropes and pull.
I don't even know why I’m here. I don’t have a shift tonight, but I knew I didn’t want to be home alone.
Must have been on autopilot. Stepping through the heavy wooden door, I suddenly find myself being pulled to the ground.
Slapping my hand on the wall to stop myself from either falling or becoming a sandwich between the door and the brick exterior, I notice my purse strap is caught on the outside of the fucking door.
I yank on it with so much force my arm throbs.
Attempting to snatch my purse free only causes me to lose my footing more and piss myself off further.
Angry tears spill over my lashes. Whether it’s over seeing the man I know I want with every ounce of me or this stupid.
Fucking. Door. I growl, “Puneta!” Son of a bitch, and finally pull my bag free and shut the door.
I take a deep breath and adjust my dress, needing to center myself in some way, and it’s then I realize I’m not alone.
Cassidy is standing behind the bar, eyeing me like I’ve lost my damn mind.
And I think I have. A small laugh slips past my lips at what she must have seen—me, almost falling on my ass, wrestling with a damn door.
Unable to hold back, I laugh, loud and hard.
I feel out of control, thinking about how rough this day has been on my emotions but also how crazed I felt fighting with the door.
The laugh isn’t exactly one of joy, but it's one that’s needed when nothing feels right, and all you can do is laugh at your circumstances rather than cry.
I hear Cass join in with me, and somehow the sound gives me a bit of comfort.
“Girl! You want to tell me what made you so pissed off at the door?” my best friend asks me, holding the ache in her sides.
“Carajo! Damn it. Fucking door. I swear it's always something.” I’m still incredibly annoyed and lost in my feelings so I continue, “One more minor inconvenience and I am going to lose my shit. One. More. That’s all it’s gonna take.”
Cass and I both make another attempt to ground ourselves.
Feeling somewhat settled, I pull open the half-door to the bar and notice a broken bottle of liquor on the ground.
Cassidy must have dropped it when I was in the middle of my clusterfuck fight with the traitorous door.
She grabs the broom and sweeps up what she can, while I reach for the mop to help her clean up.
“Oh my God! My cheeks hurt,” I wheeze, feeling calmer as I mop up the brown smokey liqueur. I close my eyes and exhale the deep breath I was holding on to and then I am enveloped in Cassidy’s warmth.
She squeezes me gently before saying, “So, here’s the plan. You tell me what’s wrong and I will make us both a drink.” There’s nothing I want more than to tell her, but now it feels like I’ve been holding on to a secret.
“I’m totally fine,” I say, as she preps two espresso martinis, and feeling like such a fucking liar.
Letting her do her thing, I sit down on one of the stools and stare blankly at the counter.
Holding the pain in feels easier somehow.
With a clunk she sets the chocolate creme liqueur and vodka from the top shelf on the bar top in front of me.
“Like I said before, you’re a terrible liar,” Cass says.
Pouring both of us a glass of what is going to feel like the medicine I need, she levels with me, tipping her glass in my direction to single me out.
“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay, babe.
But don’t lie. You don’t need to lie to me.
I’m your best friend, and I’m never going to judge you.
I hope you know that.” Why am I hiding this from the one person I know would never judge me as if it's not choking me?
“You remember that guy I dated years ago and had that fling with?” She sighs and it seems like she’s more than happy I finally came to my senses to share what’s going on.
“Well, I didn’t tell you the whole story.
I’ve seen him a few times recently. Come to find out, he’s the one who is putting on the tournament for his youth golf academy, which is amazing, but also, I don’t know what to do, and I-I was a fucking idiot, Cass.
I was such a fool. Seeing him again has brought all those feelings back, the ones I tried my damnedest to stuff down. ”
“Lo,” my nickname is all she mutters before she is rounding the bar and pulling me into a crushing hug.
The embrace breaks the dam, and I release an exhausted sob into my best friend's shoulder, surely leaving snot and who knows what else behind, but I know she doesn’t care.
This is what we do. We stand strong for one another.
“Remember when I used to work at the golf course? Clinton walked in and was such a flirt.” I begin to share, a pained smile slanted across my face.
“The golf club manager, you know, Glen? Yeah. He paired me up with Clint to assist him while he was there, before he left on tour. I was terrible with all the golf terms and accompanying him before he found a routine at the club was an easy way for me to learn the lingo and pick up some skills.” I take a deep breath.
“It was like everything converged. He was this absolutely fucking gorgeous man with light eyes and a smile that set my skin on fire, and it didn’t hurt he was almost twelve years older than me.
You know I love an older man. We flirted casually for a week or two, and then it turned into so much more.
“After months of lunches together he finally gathered up the nerve to ask me on a date. It was—” I balk, and my body seizes at the realization I’d been falling in love with Clinton so early on. It was easy. He made it easy to fall for him.
“Paloma, you know I would never do anything intentional to hurt you.” Clinton’s warm voice is something my entire being wants to latch on to, but it's not that simple. You can hurt the ones you love, you can leave them and somehow go on living your life as if there isn’t this huge hole living inside of you. It’s what my father did.”
I shake my head, “You don’t know that Clint. You could, and I’m not ready for that level of commitment.”
When I look at his handsome face, I catalogue all the facets I’m going to miss when he leaves. “You’re leaving in a couple months or did you forget that?” I can tell by how his eyebrows raise slightly that he can hear the attitude lacing my words.
“I haven’t forgotten but—”
Not allowing him to finish what feels too close to a declaration of love—something I refuse to acknowledge because if I give myself a chance, I’d already see just how head over heels I am for this man.
“You have to promise me you won’t fall in love with me, Clinton.
You need to promise,because what we have right now is amazing, but it’s all we can ever be.
” He releases a breath of air, and I try my damnedest to hold back the tears threatening to break free.
“Paloma, could we—” he tries again.
“Promise me.” He threads his fingers into my hair, pulling me to him, and steals my breath away with a kiss that feels more like broken hearts and hope, rather than the promise I asked him for.
I’m in too deep to stop this from going any further.
So instead of asking for a promise I know neither one of us can give, I push on to my tiptoes and deepen the kiss.
Shaking my head slightly, I take a small sip of my cocktail, needing to refocus myself before I continue, “The months I spent with him scared me more than anything because I knew how deep my want for him ran. I couldn’t allow myself to fall for someone who, ultimately, I could never commit to.”
“Paloma, you know that isn’t true,” she interrupts me, holding up her hand to silence me. “Your parents' mistakes don't have to be your future.”
I shake my head in disbelief, not wanting to even examine what my best friend said.
“I told him not to fall for me. Hell, I said it more for myself.
I see now I was already so deep into that man I didn't know if I was falling in love or drowning. We spent every waking moment we could together for several months. Late night ramen, dessert at the golf course…” I pause only for a second to giggle at her shocked gasp, wiping the wetness from my cheeks.
I tell her about Clinton and our passion—how we were insatiable—not just for physical intimacy, but for each other, our whole selves.
“But I knew the time was coming to an end when he asked me to go with him on his international tour.
At first I agreed, thinking I could pretend love was a reality for me, but it's not.”
Cassidy opens her mouth to say something, but I stop her, already knowing she’s going to try to convince me I’m wrong.
“No, Cass, just don't. It's not something for me. I just—” Pulling in a deep breath, I gather my out-of-control feelings the best I can to finish telling her about my relationship with Clint.
“Anyway. I got to the airport parking lot, had my bags packed in the trunk, but I couldn't get out.
I was frozen. I couldn't love this man, I wouldn't let myself, and more than that, I wouldn't waste his time.
I sat there and watched his plane take off until I couldn't see past the clouds, and then I drove home.
After a few months of sobbing, I got my ass together, and then you called about this idea for a bookish cocktail bar.
I went back to school, and I promised I would never allow myself to waste someone's time like that again. It didn't matter if it broke my heart, but I-I couldn't hurt him more than I already had. And you know, now he’s back, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself.”
Cass doesn't say anything for a long while. She simply sits next to me on our barstools and rubs my back. “I think we need a girls’ night.”
“Oh my God, yes!” I exclaim through tears and past hurt.
I don't know how I’m going to get over this, but I will.
Maybe I can get B to cover for me or...No, this isn't something I can run from anymore.
We are adults; I can and I will get my shit together and work alongside him.
No matter how much it may hurt. “What are you doing down here anyway?”
“I really wanted to get some inventory done. Once the last shipment arrived, I came down to organize the bar.” Cassidy rests her hand on her hip.
“And don’t start. I know you said you were going to organize it, but you’ve seemed exhausted the last few days, and I wanted to give you a break.
Now I know why your mind has been so occupied. ”
“I know I said it’s not for me, but I really want it,” I say barely over a whisper.
“Then go after it, Lo. Let the past, all of it, be the past and go after the future your heart is begging you for.” Worrying my bottom lip, I know my best friend is right, but there is so much fear attached to love for me, so much abandonment that I don’t want to unpack with a new relationship.
The little angel sitting on my shoulder reminds me that this isn’t a new relationship.
This is Clinton Morrison, and now I have to decide if opening my heart to him, for real this time, is even an option I still have.
It’s all too soon to be this involved with the thought of a future with him, but even the thought of being open to it scares me.
A romantic with a fucking fear of love. I’m a walking hot mess.