Page 10 of The Girl He Loves

But Dax is relentless as ever. “I don’t want to lose touch. I miss our friendship. If your husband’s good with it, how about I give you guys some tickets to a few of the games in Tampa? I know the coach.” He elbows me in that ha-ha, I’m kidding way. “Is your husband a football fan?”

I shake my head. “Not really, Golf.” Golf was Justin’s mistress during our marriage. But he’d sell his mom for football tickets. Tyler would be over the moon excited as well.

I step back. “Have a seat. Look at the menu. Spend lots of money.” Then I take a second step backward. I need to get away before Dax sees my embarrassment. It’s not like I can say it was a sudden sunburn.

“I’ll check back with you all in a bit,” I say, picking up my backward pace. My white T-shirt will only highlight my new splotchiness. In my haste, I narrowly avoid colliding with Paisley and knocking the tray from her hands.

“Sorry,” I mumble as I scurry to the kitchen. I hide out of sight and begin the litany of self-talk I use to calm myself when Tyler’s hospitalized. If it worked then, it can work now.

Jayne finds me, her brow furrowed in concern. “What has you bothered?”

I alternate between fanning myself with my hand and tugging my shirt back and forth to cool my neck.

“Oh, my Lord, Jayne. In college, I dated one of the guys at my corner table.”

Her brows shoot up. “Oh, is that good or bad? Can we pick good?”

I groan. “No, it’s not good. He went on to fulfill his life’s dream. He’s since dated supermodels.”

Jayne’s shoulders straighten. “What’s this bloke’s name? Remember when you got drunk at Josie’s wedding and called out a name?”

I glare at her. “No, I don’t remember. I was drunk.”

“I do. When Doug carted you off, you said something about a Max or—" She taps her temple in thought. “What was the name?”

“Dax?” I say with hesitation. Had I really said his name?

She points at me. “That’s it.”

I point at the table. “That’s him.”

Jayne’s eyes go wide. “Bugger.” She purses her lips in brief thought then says, “You need to get out there and show him how fabulous you are.” She drags me to the bar. “Here, take some frosted mugs and a pitcher to them and tell them it’s on the house.”

I shake my head. “You take it.” I point to my red rashy-looking chest.

Jayne puts the pitcher of beer she’d just filled on the counter. “Heather, listen to me, love. You’re more than the girl he loved and left. You’re a fabulous mum. You’re a fighter. You’re brave and strong and independent. We all see that. Why can’t you?”

Because I’m not any of those things yet, I want to say. Because I’m trying to be, but when I think I’ve found my strength in one, I’m reminded by life how I’m failing in another.

“I’ll give you ten dollars to take my table,” I propose.

She takes my tray then loads it with the pitcher of beer and four mugs. “Is he dating anyone?”

I shake my head. “Last I saw, he and his model girlfriend broke up. Not that they dated all that long. Maybe six weeks of Instagram posts, and then I noticed she stopped following him.”

A smile plays at the corner of Jayne’s mouth. “Is that so? Well, then go out there and make him wonder why he ever let you go.”

I slide the tray onto my hand, balancing it. “And how am I supposed to do that in the few seconds we interact?”

“By being your magnificent self.” She cocks her head as a way to tell me to move.

I count to twenty and get control of my breathing before I square my shoulders and decide she's right. I glide over to the table, digging deep for confidence. I once read a book that talked about adopting an alter ego as a means to get through challenging situations. If I had to pick one for tonight, it would be Wonder Woman. Though a sex kitten type was likely what most people would pick, I would never be comfortable enough to pull that off.

“Hey guys,” I say as I lower the tray to the table. “Beer is on the house while you look at the menu. I’m guessing y’all are on bikes so you’ll notice our frosty mugs are smaller than typical. We encourage the one drink maximum for your safety.” Part of the tray is resting against the side of my hip as I unload the mugs, the other part against the table. Dax is to my right so I position myself to be facing him.

Jayne’s right. I can totally pull this off. If I keep my interactions to short bursts, I can be funny and flirty and totally a badass like Wonder Woman. I don’t have to be down-on-her-luck Heather.

I reach across my body to deliver the next mug to Dax and pair it with a bright smile. With a cute flick of my hand, I send the mug sliding the remaining distance toward Dax. It’s a trick Josie taught me.

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