Chapter Thirty-Three
Audrey
I pick Jake up at Brew’s house, and we go to the Barnacle Café for breakfast. The hostess leads us to a table for two, and we order pancakes and a side of home fries.
“How was poker night?” I ask as I stir cream and sugar into my coffee.
“Fun. Anson took all our money though,” he says.
I laugh. “Anson cheats.”
“I knew it. Nobody’s that lucky,” he says.
“I’m surprised Parker didn’t warn you,” I say as the waitress sets our plates in front of us. I grab the ketchup from the middle of the table and shake a generous amount onto my potatoes.
“Parker wasn’t there,” he says as I pass the bottle to him, and he does the same.
“He wasn’t? That’s odd.”
He had requested the night off for it … unless he had other plans—plans he didn’t want to disclose to me. Suddenly, I lose my appetite.
“Are you okay?” Jake asks with a mouthful of food.
“Yeah,” I reply, shaking off the sick feeling in my stomach.
His brow furrows. “Are you sure? You went pale on me.”
I force a smile. “I’m sure. I’m just not used to eating this early.”
“We’ll have them pack yours up. You can take it to Whiskey Joe’s and have it later,” he suggests.
“Speaking of Whiskey Joe’s, you promised me some information,” I remind him.
He swallows and takes a sip of his juice. “I did.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” I prompt.
“A birdie told me that Van is moving to Tennessee after the first of the year to take the general manager position at one of the Cartwright speedway clubs,” he says.
“He is?” I gasp, shocked at the information.
“Yep. Which means that Brew will need to hire a new GM at Whiskey Joe’s, and the name at the top of his list happens to belong to my favorite redhead.”
“What?”
“If she’s interested, that is.”
Of course I’d be interested. The general manager position includes an office, a salary increase, and much better work hours.
“I’m guessing she is?”
“Yes,” I declare excitedly.
“I thought she would be,” he says, winking at me.
“That’s why Brew was talking to Parker yesterday morning. He wanted to see if Parker could help out a bit longer if you guys can’t hire and train two new bartenders by the first of December.”
“Parker knows?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think Brew gave him details, just asked about his schedule.”
“Wow. I’m just … wow. I don’t know how I’m going to keep this news under wraps and pretend not to know.”
He smiles wide. “Brew knows I’m telling you.”
I raise a brow. “He wanted you to tell me and not him? That’s odd.”
“Nah, I just begged him to let me be the one.”
“Why’s that?”
He shrugs. “Bribery, remember? Plus, I was hoping I could talk you into coming out to Cali; let me treat you to a nice celebratory vacation before you transition.”
There it is.
“Or we could fly to Bora Bora. Think about it—two weeks in a hut over the ocean, snorkeling, swimming with dolphins, sunbathing nude, and making love under the stars,” he proposes.
It sounds amazing, and it would be so easy. Jake is the entire package—funny, handsome, successful, and well-traveled.
“What do you say, Red? Run away with me.”
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him.
“I’ll take that. It’s not a no, and I have two months to wear you down.”
After breakfast, I take Jake to Whiskey Joe’s to meet Brew. Leena, Leonard, and Parker are seated at the bar when we walk in. I glance at my watch in confusion.
“What are you guys doing here so early?” I ask.
Parker’s eyes flit between me and Jake and harden.
“Um, you called a meeting for this morning. You posted it in the app last week,” Leonard says. “We’ve been here for an hour.”
“Oh God. I forgot,” I say.
“That’s okay,” Leena says, but Parker stands and stomps toward the door.
“Parker.” I grab his arm as he walks past us, and he stops to look down at me. “Are you mad?”
His furious eyes meet mine. “Mad that I got out of bed on my day off to attend a meeting you couldn’t be bothered to show up for?”
“I’m sorry I forgot. I must have mixed the days up on my calendar or something,” I defend.
He looks from me to Jake and back. “Yeah, or something.”
I stiffen at his words. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
He leans down and mutters, “Next time you want to sleep in with a friend or something , at least have the decency to call the rest of us and let us know so we can sleep in too.” Then, he jerks his arm free from my grasp and stalks out.
I turn back to the others. “Excuse me for one second,” I say before following Parker.
I catch him in the parking lot, about to climb into his truck. “Wait a damn minute, Parker!” I shout.
He stops with his hand on the door handle, closes his eyes for a moment, and then turns to face me.
“Go back inside, Audrey,” he says through gritted teeth.
“No,” I say as I get in his face. “That was uncalled for. I don’t appreciate you talking to me that way in front of the others, especially insinuating I was late because I had slept in with Jake.”
“Do you really think they didn’t reach the same conclusion when you came in with him at eight in the morning?” he yells.
“Fuck you,” I spit and turn to walk away.
He grabs my wrist and tugs me back to him, pinning me between the truck and his body.
“Move,” I scream.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he bites out, the vein in his neck pulsing as his Adam’s apple bobs angrily. “Tell me he wasn’t in your bed last night.”
I don’t speak. I just glare at him.
Then, his forehead comes to mine. “Please, baby.” He raises my wrist to his mouth and softly brushes his lips over my pulse point as he whispers his plea again. “Please.”
“He wasn’t. I picked him up this morning, and we went to breakfast. Not that it’s any of your business.”
He lets out a relieved breath.
“Let me go,” I retort sharply.
He leans back, and his eyes come to mine. “I can’t.”
I go still.
“Sure you can. It’s not that hard. You did it before,” I point out.
“Are you serious right now? Letting go of you has been impossible, Audi. From the day I met you, you’ve had this hold on me—like a magnet pulling me back home to you. Letting go? I can’t. I’m exhausted from trying. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
I scoff. “No, you don’t, and you never did.”
“You know that isn’t true,” he replies.
“Yes, it is. It wasn’t love; it was just youthful lust.”
“And how do you know that?” he asks.
“It’s simple. Lust is conditional. Love is unconditional.”
“How is lust conditional?” he questions.
“It’s physical and hormonal. It requires reciprocation or at least the expectation of reciprocation to exist. Once it’s been satisfied, there really isn’t anything left,” I explain.
“And you think that’s what we were?” he asks.
“And you don’t?”
He shakes his head. “No. I know what I felt and what I feel.”
“Yeah, well, lust feels a lot like love until it comes time for sacrifice,” I wail as I try to slide past him.
He stops me, and his next words rock me.
“You’re wrong. I love you, and I’m gonna love the hell out of you for the rest of my life. And whether that’s up close or from a distance is up to you. Your participation is wanted but not required. If necessary, I’ll stand at the back of the fucking room and love you from afar until my dying breath.”
I swallow back tears. “That wasn’t our deal.”
“Fuck our deal. I was stupid to think I could ever walk away from you again. Even if you had begged me. I wouldn’t go.”
“I can’t do this right now,” I say, breaking away and hurrying to the bar.
Jake is waiting just outside the door, and he opens it for me to walk inside.
I address the others calmly. “Again, I’m sorry about this morning. I’ll reschedule the meeting for a later date, but you’ll be paid for your time today.”
I turn to Jake. “You want to get out of here?”
He takes my hand, leads me down the hallway to the break room, and shuts the door.
“Sorry, Red, but I think this is where I bow out gracefully,” he says.
“Because of Parker?” I ask.
He smirks as his eyes search mine. “No. Him I can handle.”
“Then, why? You were so adamant before,” I point out.
“Because of you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, I noticed how you looked at him and how you fought with him. I’ve seen it before,” he says.
“I’m not following you.”
“I once fell in love with a girl who was still emotionally tied to a man from her past despite her best attempts to move on. I was so close to winning her heart when he unexpectedly returned. When I watched the way they looked at each other—the pain and longing in their eyes, the way they fought—it became clear to me that I never stood a chance. I realized I was just a sympathetic side character in the epic love story they were living,” he explains.
“The way we fought? Really?”
“Oh, yeah. You can tell a lot about a couple by the way they fight,” he says.
“Not a couple. And what exactly can you tell by the way people fight?”
“The thing is, a couple—I mean, people—who don’t care about each other don’t usually bother to fight,” he says.
“Lots of people who don’t care about each other fight. I break up bar fights all the time,” I disagree.
“Fights started by some guy getting handsy with another guy’s girl. Or a girl catching her guy out with another woman. Or two girls fighting over a guy,” he lists.
“Sometimes, it’s just drunks fighting because they’re drunk. And trust me, ours isn’t an epic love story. It’s a tragic love story, at best.”
He reaches up and swipes a loose curl behind my ear.
“That’s the thing, Red. Some tragic love stories aren’t tragic at all. They’re just unfinished.”
“Whatever, quitter,” I say with a pout.
He laughs.
“And to think, I was gonna let you round a couple of bases in Bora Bora.”
“Ouch.”