Chapter 47 Rhett
Chapter forty-seven
Rhett
“Hey man, you gonna drink that? Because if not, I’ll take it.
” Ky’s bar stool tips towards me, and I shake my head, sliding the lukewarm beer across the counter.
The music in the Bourbon Barrel is way too loud, even the dim lights are pissing me off.
I should’ve just sucked it up and let Ky come over to my house for drinks and food like old times, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of sitting in the backyard, shooting the shit.
My entire property is riddled with her. It’s been one week since we left New York.
One week since I essentially broke it off.
One week of oscillating between anger at Audrey and anger at myself.
One week of wondering if I was overreacting. One week of feeling betrayed as hell.
But the bedroom still smells like her jasmine perfume. The kitchen certainly doesn’t smell as good; it’s riddled with takeout containers and junk I can’t be bothered to put away.
“You look like shit, man.” I haven’t shaved in a week, and I grabbed this wrinkled shirt out of the dirty laundry bin, no fucks left to give.
“Fuck you, too, Ky.” I shove him and he shrugs, polishing off my beer.
“You know you didn’t have to come out tonight.”
I stand to stretch my legs, looking at my best friend and try to muster up a semblance of joy.
I knew I was being an ass. I’d barely said anything in the thirty minutes we’ve been sitting at this bar, not acknowledging anyone, especially not the bartender who is obnoxiously flirting with me.
Part of me wonders if I should fill my bed with a warm body tonight, maybe the bartender, but the other part of me can’t fathom letting anyone sleep on the left side.
It was somehow still her spot. How fucked is that?
“I know I didn’t have to come out.” I adjusted my belt, feeling fidgety in this building full of energy when I was devoid. “In my defense, I thought it was a good idea. I can’t be in the house, it’s depressing me.”
“Dude, you’re acting like someone died.” I narrow my eyes and Ky backs away. “You broke up with her, unless you’re not telling me something.”
“I know, I know I broke it off. Remember, she hid something from me for months, something kind of huge. How could I just brush that under the rug?” I asked, but I wasn’t looking for an answer.
Ky nods, but I know better than to assume he agrees. He’s smart enough not to provoke me right now.
A man with a broken heart is a reckless beast.
“Did I tell you I punched her ex on her parent’s front lawn?
” As soon as I said it, I didn't know why I did it.
Ky lets out a low whistle, his eyebrows shooting up.
“What? Say it, Ky.” I egged him on, wishing now I had another drink, just so I had something in my fidgeting hands.
Instead, I crack my knuckles too aggressively.
“Was this before or after you found out about the lie?” I don’t like the way he puts the word lie in finger quotes. He doesn’t get why I ended shit with Audrey. He’s never been in love, so I don’t expect him to understand it. And I don’t entertain him with an answer either.
“Tell yourself whatever you want man, but this isn’t over between y’all.”
“What the hell do you know about me and Audrey?” I growled out, feeling bad I was hurling my hurt at my best friend, but I couldn’t stop. I need to go home before I do or say something I'll truly regret.
Ky straddles the barstool between us, peering right at me.
“You know what, you’re right. I don’t know much, because you were so wrapped up in her that you never bothered to even introduce us.
You were in your own little la la world, but I've never seen you so bent over a girl.” He grabs his baseball cap from the counter, fitting it on his head, and waits for a response, but I don’t have one.
Because his comment hits me, making me feel like a hypocrite. Maybe Audrey wasn’t the only one keeping us in a bubble. But it’s too late now.
“I’ve known you for what… twenty years at this point? I know when you’re lying to yourself,” he adds solemnly, tapping my shoulder and closes his tab, before I can even uncross my arms and move.
“I’ll catch you later man, yeah?” he asks, and I nod.
“Yeah, see you later,” I call out after him, my mind spinning and chest tight.
The bartender returns, leaning over the counter, a look in her eyes I don’t like.
“Looks like it’s just you now, huh?” she muses, blinking slowly at me.
A few years ago, I would’ve got her name and waited for her shift to be over, driving her home in a lust filled rage, just to forget her name by the next morning. Or I wouldn’t have waited and taken her right in the backroom, not a care in the world.
But my chest aches in impossibly deep places and I wanted nothing more than to get out of here. Alone. I pay my tab, ambling outside and slide into my old truck.
I light up a cigarette, tossing the pack on the empty seat next to me, and start to pull out of the parking lot, but not before mindlessly hitting a pothole.
The glove box springs open, and a small yellow envelope tumbles onto the seat.
My heart skips. I grab it quickly, shoving it back into the glove box, slamming it shut so hard I probably jammed it.
The contents of the envelope are pointless. It’s just an extra key now, not a grand gesture with a bigger question.
Move in with me.
It was a big step for me. I remember the jittery feeling flowing through me when I woke up and decided it was time, drove to the hardware store and got that little brass key made.
Complete with a pink keychain that was stupid as hell, but I knew she’d love it.
I was going to ask her when we got back from New York.
“Fuck!” Slamming the steering wheel with my palm, I peel out of the gravel lot and drive home in silence.
I don’t need any noise. The inside of my head is louder than my speakers could ever get.