Page 94 of Don't Go Faking My Heart
ASH
After our picnic, we head to Patty's and talk for a bit to Walt, Rusty’s bouncer-slash-off-duty-cop friend. Soon, the bar's too busy, though, and he goes back to work as the 77's start their set. Patty wasn't kidding about how good they are. They have the right mix of upbeat and slow songs, and because this is a honky tonk Irish pub, there's a lot of dancing.
And that means slow dancing.
Rusty and I are sweaty and smiling as we sway, and I feel like I'm in a heady cloud of love. I know we're in public, so we have to act a certain way, but … I'm not acting.
And I don't think he is, either.
I can't know for sure, but he's not crossing any lines that he could cross. He's not even kissing me, but we feel like us. This whole week, I've thought Rusty was faking his confidence along with his feelings, but this sophisticated, assured version feels more authentic than the reserved version I've known all along. He's never felt so genuine to me or seemed so comfortable in his own skin.
At the end of the song, I excuse myself to go to the ladies' room. I walk through the lounge and back into the bar, where the bathrooms are. The line for the women's restroom is out the door, as it so often is. I smile at the woman directly in front of me, and then it hits me that I know her.
She's the woman Philip took to the game last night.
"Oh, hey," she says. "I know you. You're Philip's ex."
"That's me," I say. "Ash. And it's Heather, right?"
"That's right." She fiddles with her necklace. "So did you and Philip date for long?"
"About a year."
She nods. "And are you wanting to get back together with him?"
"No! Nope. Not at all. 0 out of 10. Would not recommend."
She's clearly taken aback. "Why do you say that?"
"Did you watch the, uh, ice football game the other night?"
"Sure did."
"Then you saw all the cheap shots, right?"
"It was just a game. And besides, your date punched him, too."
"That's true," I say. The line moves up as two women leave the bathroom. We're almost to the door. "I'm not talking about a game, though.” I sigh. “Listen, Philip is a master of cheap shots. He finds out exactly what buttons to push, and when no one's looking, he pushes and pushes and pushes them until you either fight back or curl up and keep taking it. I should have fought back."
Heather puts her hand on her hip. "It sounds like emotional manipulation."
"Yeah."
"Why didn't you say that the first time?"
I pause. "I guess I didn't think you'd believe me."
"What the heck? I've gone on two dates with the guy, and you know him way better than I do. Sisters have to look out for each other." The door opens, and it's Heather's turn to go in. "Do better, Ashley."
I don't see Heather again. Not when I get into the bathroom, not when I'm washing my hands, and not when I'm leaving the restroom and going back through the bar.
I see Philip, though. He's sitting at the counter drinking alone and looking incensed. I give him a wide berth, not wanting to draw his attention or his ire.
Unfortunately, he sees me.
"Ashley!" he yells. I keep walking, but he stops me before I can make it to the lounge. "Funny running into you here. I seem to have found myself mysteriously dateless."
"Heather seems like a woman with good taste," I say.
