Page 11 of Waiting for Tuesday

I nodded, my nose still buried deep in my glass as I pointedfor another. I desperately wanted to look back at the bar, to see if Donovan was watching me, but I didn’t dare. A dozen women probably surrounded him by now.Girls, I corrected. I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them carried fake IDs.

Colin continued to linger at our table, but I was thankful for that. The longer he distracted Becky, the longer I had to pull myself together. She knew me better than anyone. My deepest thoughts, my hopes and dreams, every secret wish I’d had since I was eight. She was the only one who knew how much I wanted to find my father—

Wait. Where had that come from?

My brows furrowed, and I found the feathers in my hair. He’d been on my mind a lot lately. Maybe because of the changes with the store, or maybe because I no longer traveled to art fairs where I’d forever hoped to find him. That’s where he and Mom met. She was only eighteen and he something similar, and through all her stories, she had never once uttered a bad word about him. Never even a twinge of remorse when she told me about the morning she’d woken up and he was gone.

“He was a nomad, he didn’t settle.”

Just like her.I sighed. I was told over and over that he loved me, but I knew it wasn’t true. He’d left before I took my first breath. My mom was eighteen, seven months pregnant, and he left her to raise their baby on her own. What kind of man did that? What kind ofpersondid that? What could have been so important that he abandoned us in the middle of the night?

“Hello.” Becky waved her hands in front of my face. “Earth to Tuesday.”

I gave her an apologetic look and met her eyes. “Sorry.”

“What’s gotten into you lately?” Colin had finally gone, and Becky was leaning forward, her arms braced on the table. “What’s up with you tonight?”

I shrugged. “I was just thinking about my dad.”

Her frown deepened and she leaned closer. “Did you ask your mom about him? Is that why you looked so shaken this afternoon?”

“No… but she’s in Crescent City again. Isn’t that weird? I can’t seem to shake him from my thoughts, and she’s back in the place where they met.”

“Thatiskinda weird.”

“I know.” I pushed a drop of water around the table with my finger. “But I told you, I already know everything. His name was Forrest, he was the love of her life, and they traveled together for about a year. She never even knew his last name…”

* * *

John

Iwatchedas Colin brought Tuesday another drink, keeping my hands busy as I dried yet another glass. Shit, I wanted to switch places with him. Have Colin do the babysitting so I could go ruffle Tuesday’s feathers again—or whatever the hell her name was.

She looked so innocent and wild at the same time. Gorgeous, though a little bit awkward. Her hair was big, almost overwhelming her small frame, a mass of sun-bleached waves. And her skin was flawless, golden brown, beautiful. But her eyes. They were a shade somewhere between hazel and green, trapped behind the black-rimmed glasses that drove me crazy.

I grabbed another glass from the sink and shoved the cloth inside. She gave a whole new twist to the librarian thing, and I found myself wanting to check out a book. Only I knew that was a bad idea. She was the type who would want a relationship, and I was the type who avoided them.

A few college girls lingered at the bar behind me, leaning halfway over the edge to get my attention.

“Donovan,” a blond one cooed. “Why aren’t you paying attention to us?”

I flashed them a charming smile and leaned against the bar. “What can I get you ladies? Coffee? Tea? A cab?” It was almost midnight and I was done. Ready to have a few beers of my own, ready to hand over the reins to Fred and make my way to Tuesday.

She pushed her boobs against the bar and giggled. “Are you trying to get rid of us, Donovan?”

I laughed at the use of my uncle’s name. My fifty-year-old uncle who hadn’t been here all night, but of course I played along.“Now Cindy, why would I want to do a thing like that?”

She giggled and snorted. “My name’s Susan, but you can call me whatever you want.”

I turned around and blew out a breath. These girls were too much—easy or just wasted. Either way, I didn’t want any part of it.

My cell began to ring at the register, and I swiped open the call. “Hello?”

“There you are! Where have you been?”

I smiled at the sound of my sister’s voice and pressed my back into the counter. “Hey Lisa, isn’t it past your bed time?”

“Ha ha. Have you been avoiding my calls?”

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