CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
A NYA
Two and a half weeks passed.
Two and a half weeks of increased sales in The Green Frog, which had been great. Follow-up calls and emails regarding more events had popped up, but I’d largely declined those. External interest had died down, but I still had this strange celebrity status in New Burlington— that had been fun. Except when everyone asked where Robert was and why they hadn’t seen us together. Why there hadn’t been any more hot kisses in public. Even Morgan had asked about that one, and I hadn’t had the heart to tell her that the fairy-tale small-town romance had most definitely simmered down. Two and a half weeks of sleeping alone, not knowing the delicious warmth of the man I’d thought I could fall for.
The fact was, Robert had lied—he hadn’t kept me in the loop. He’d sent exactly three texts while he was in Miami. I replied with a couple of questions about what he was doing, and he never answered.
It was the start of the distance between us.
When he got back, he didn’t call. He didn’t reach out. He didn’t answer my texts. He just ghosted me.
Ghosted.
The longer he went without contacting me, the more confused I became. What had this all been? A fling? A random hookup? A publicity stunt to garner more attention? It certainly fit his NYC persona to do that.
Who the hell does he think he is?
Bothered by a spate of questions with no answers, I finally gave in and swung by the store one Wednesday evening after I finished a quick trip to Kroger for some laundry detergent and groceries. It was after six, and I was surprised to see the lights still on and a few cars parked near the business.
But only Javier was inside, cleaning a large section of wall near the newly finished bar.
“Hi,” he said when he saw me, his jaw slack. “Do you want to come in?”
I nodded. “If that’s okay.”
He let me in through the front door, his brow beaded with sweat, his shoulders drooping with exhaustion.
“This looks fantastic,” I tried. “I knew the place was coming along, but it almost looks like a totally different space.”
“Only a few more days until the opening.”
I turned around one more time, taking in his handiwork—lots of brushed gold, carved wood, artfully placed tile, accent walls. Javier was well-known around New Burlington and had done the revamp of the library two years earlier, but Robert’s bookstore was something else entirely.
It was a masterpiece.
“This is more than a bookstore,” I admitted. “More than a bar too.”
Javier laughed and put his hands in his work overalls, which were stained with paint splatter every color of the rainbow. “I’ll tell Robert.”
“Speaking of Robert—”
“He’s not here.”
Javier’s abrupt reply didn’t just cut off my words. It made me jump. “Okay.”
“He’s out of town.”
“Again?”
Javier shook his head, and his shoulders tightened, straining against the thick cloth of his work jumpsuit. “No, still.”
I stepped forward. “You can tell me the truth.”
“I am.”
I moved even closer. “You’re a terrible liar.”
After a beat, Javier nodded. “I hate getting in the middle of stuff.”
Still staring at him, I sized him up and what I knew about Robert.
Screw it.
So what if we’d slept together? So what if we’d been in a viral video that got millions of views and ended in an appearance on a national morning show? So what if our kiss at the float competition had turned into a widely-used GIF? None of it meant I had to spend my life with Robert, or that we were meant to be together, or that we even had a chance at a real relationship.
It only meant that we’d shared a moment in time, a slice of our lives together. And clearly, that slice was over.
Ghosting me like this was one big red flag. Telling Javier to be this elusive was another.
So fine.
I’m a big girl. I can get the message.
I pulled my purse closer to my body, thankful for the large leather strap, which I now held like a life preserver. I’d been here before though, and I reminded myself of that as I worked out what I was about to say. Modern men were all the same, and Robert fell right into that mold. They were all spineless on some level, all devoid of basic decency, all prone to simply going “no contact” instead of manning up and telling the truth.
“Tell him I said hello. That’s all.” I squeezed my handbag a little tighter. “And thanks for giving me the preview tour. I really appreciate it.”
We said a few more meaningless sentences before I was out the door, back in my car, and alone again.
And in so many ways, right back where I started—a single woman in a small town with no romantic prospects. I also had the pleasure of running a long-standing bookstore, so I couldn’t really complain. Robert had showed me what it was like to feel special— what exceptional sex was like— and I could hold on to that and hopefully find it again one day. Life would move on again, and even though at times I felt stuck, I would survive.
I was still mulling that over as Morgan’s bachelorette party kicked off—an explosion of excitement and joy and hope. As happy as I felt for her, I didn’t feel any of those emotions for myself.
And that was perhaps the worst part of my current reality.
“We’re getting bottle service,” I told the server at Hyde, the bar hosting the second leg of Morgan’s bachelorette party. “Make it two bottles of Ketel One, please.”
“Coming right up.” The woman typed the order on her iPad and motioned toward the champagne we already had chilling in a bucket near the large couch I reserved for the night. “Anyone need a refill?”
“I’ll take one,” Morgan slurred.
She was already tipsy, and I was on my way. In fact, I planned for us to live it up for the next twenty-four hours. We started out the evening at the 21c Hotel downtown in a large suite on the top floor with a view that overlooked the rest of Cincinnati’s main business district. I’d splurged on charcuterie and light bites as the rest of Morgan’s wedding party arrived for the evening. Then, we dined in the private room at Metropole, the hotel’s beloved restaurant on the main floor. Now, we were supposed to dance the night away at the newest bar and nightclub in the city.
It had been a great night, and most importantly, Morgan was happy. She deserved it—especially after how supportive she’d been this summer with helping create the float and filling in at the store.
“I love you,” I told her. “You’re such a fantastic best friend.”
She pulled me in for a sloppy hug, the kind women gave each other all the time, the kind that cemented what the words meant—a platonic connection that was on a different level than one we’d ever have with boyfriends or husbands. “I love you too.” The DJ switched to a Daft Punk remix and Morgan pulled me onto the platform next to the VIP area. “Oh my God, I love this song.”
“I do too.”
We danced for a few minutes, swaying and stepping to the beat as others from Morgan’s wedding party and the golf club joined in. Soon, our group spilled out of the VIP area and onto the main dance floor, which was filled with a mix of twentysomethings, college students, young professionals, and “pretty people” dressed in the latest and most coveted fashions. Hyde wasn’t a place I would have chosen, but Morgan wanted a glamorous and exciting night, one that would set the tone for her wedding in just a few weeks. It was easy to get lost in the fun, though, and I did.
Until I felt a firm tap on my shoulder.
“Hey,” Robert said as I whirled around and faced him.
Frowning, I motioned toward Morgan’s bachelorette group. “Oh. Robert. What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you.”
I blanched in a flash of shock. What the hell? “ How’d you know I was here?”
“Morgan tagged the bar on her Instagram story, like, an hour ago. I took a chance.”
“Okay, stalker.”
He laughed. “That’s a joke, right?”
“No.” I straightened, hoping it seemed like it didn’t bother me that he was here. “But... as you can see, this is a big night for her.”
“Yep.” He angled toward me, then leaned close to my ear. “Have you been drinking, Anya?”
I recoiled and stepped farther away from him. “It’s a bachelorette party. That’s what people do at these kinds of things.”
“Do you want to dance?”
I shook my head. “Not with you.”
“Not with me? Why not?”
“Because you disappeared,” I cried out, my voice loud enough to be heard clearly over the thumping music. “You went to Miami, and you stopped contacting me.”
“I know.” He sighed. “I know.”
“And what? Now you think you can just show up here—” I raised my hand. “It’s fine, it’s totally fine. What went on between us was only part of a larger moment in time. It was good for business, and we both benefited from it. I’m not so stupid to think that it was anything lasting.”
“Anya, please—”
“Look, this is Morgan’s night, and we’re in a nightclub. It’s hardly a good time for us to have this conversation, so let’s leave what happened between us in the past.”
This hurt to say, but I pushed onward. If it was painful now, it would only get worse if I let this frustration simmer.
“You’re busy, and I’m busy,” I added. “We capitalized on the viral video, and that’s enough. That’s the end of our story.”
“Anya—”
“Stop.” I backed away from him as the DJ moved from Diplo to Jungle. “Busy Earnin’” piped through the speakers and into the room, a fitting song for this conversation. “Let’s leave it at that.”
“I cared about you.”
I smarted at that. Past tense. Yep, I was right. My instincts never failed me. This is over. In fact, it never started. You know that’s true.
“Have a good night, Robert,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll see you around town.”
“But—”
“I wish you all the best,” I added, and while I meant those words, they were also bitter in my mouth. “I know you’re going to do a lot of great things.”
Before he could say anymore, I turned on my heel and moved back into Morgan’s group. They were a herd, welcoming me back in, but Morgan was too drunk to notice what had happened. I appreciated that. I just wanted to block it all out, to keep moving, to put the insanity of the last few weeks behind me.
“I’ll have another drink,” I told one of Morgan’s college friends, a woman I had met that night who told me they pledged Kappa Gamma Theta together. “Make it strong, please. Very strong.”
“Coming right up. All vodka, no chaser,” she confirmed and took an empty glass from the tray on the table by the couch. Once she handed the drink to me, I drained it in one swig, the sting of the alcohol traveling down my throat, erasing some of the pain.
But not enough of it.
I turned back to Morgan’s friend. “I think I’ll have another one.”
She laughed. “That was quick.”
“Thank God I’m not driving.”
Ordering a party bus to take us from the hotel to the club had been a bit of an indulgence, but now I was glad we sprang for it. Since I didn’t have to worry about driving, I could do whatever I wanted.
And what I wanted was to block out any thoughts of Robert. Looks like he’s back in New Burlington.
It’s also clear he isn’t back for me.