Page 170 of Finding Hope

Sighing, I close my eyes. This is painful. This whole fucking night is painful.

Sliding out of the booth, I take her hands and help her up. I smile at the black nail polish. She’s all elegant and classy, but she didn’t remove her nail polish.

She’s in there. I just need to find out why the fuck she’s gagging the woman I love.

I’m not letting this go.

She skirts the edge of the dining room, then slips into the hallway that leads to the bathroom. Turning back to my now empty table – there’s an omen in that, I’m sure – I sit down and play with my glass of water.

My hands are on the water glass, but my eyes are on the ice-cold beer. Condensation slides along the dark glass and creates a ring on the table.

It’s so close. Open. Full, besides the single sip Bambie took.

One sip, it’ll be okay. One sip won’t turn you back into that other guy.

One sip never got anyone drunk before.

I’m so fucking over my head with Brittany. From hot and devoted, to colder than her beer. It’s like she woke up one day and decided she was done giving a shit about me.

I was away from home. Clear on the other side of the country. I missed her more than I ever missed a beer. I was picking out engagement rings with my sister like a complete fool.

And she was back here not giving a shit.

I’m stronger than I was last year. I can handle a lot of shit in my life, Ihavehandled a lot of shit in my life, but give me a damn clue! Tell me what the fuck is up,communicate, give me a reason why I’m suddenly worth less than dog shit on the bottom of her shoe.

But I get nothing. I just get a constant stream of‘we’re good’but no actual follow through.

We aren’t good! We’re broken, and I desperately want to fix it.

I love this girl. I love her so much it hurts to breathe, and she’s more casual now than she was when we fucked the first time.

“Can I get you or your date another drink?”

Snapping me out of my reverie and dragging me back to reality – sitting in a candlelit, flower decorated booth,alone– I glance up to the waitress, then down to my watch.

“Sir?”

“No.” My eyes snap back to hers. “No. I’m fine, thank you. Maybe come back in ten minutes when my girlfriend gets back.”

Glancing back to my watch, I frown. I don’t know how long ago she left, but it feels like she’s been gone for ages.

I try and talk myself down,just sit down and shut the fuck up. Don’t go looking for her, you’ll just look more pathetic,but dropping my napkin on the table, I climb out of the booth before my brain has time to catch up.

Retracing her steps along the edge of the restaurant, I nervously pat my jacket closed and clear my throat.

Why the fuck am I nervous?

Turning the corner and stopping at the end of the hallway, I find Britt with her back against the wall and Brad – her fucking ex – up in her face, whispering shit with a smirk I’d personally like to erase.

Permanently.

“Are you two quite comfortable, then?”

Britt’s eyes snap to mine. The blood drains from her face, and in an instant, dread rolls through my belly.

I suddenly realize; I’ve been here, done this before. Only this time,I’mBrad the Bore.

Stepping back from her, Brad grins like he’s ready to go toe-to-toe in the octagon. He looks me up and down like he’s an eight-foot motherfucker without a worry in the world.

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