I’m not lying. I wanted to make sure the guy was who he claimed to be.
Cole: How rudimentary?
Cole: I guess we shouldn’t be talking about this, huh? You’re sad.
Cole: I didn’t want you to feel lonely too.
Cole: There’s nothing worse than being alone when you’ve lost people who matter the most to you.
His kindness comes as a surprise—chiefly because my ‘rudimentary’ search let me know that strange hair aside, the guy has seriouslybrighttaste in clothes and a preference for going through hotties thatPage 6can’t keep up with.
Me: It’s kind of you to think of me, Cole.
Me: I had a bit of a freak-out at the bar.
Cole: You went to the bar?!
Me: I have responsibilities.
Me: :/
Me: I guess I failed them.
Cole: Hardly. You’re allowed to take some time for yourself.
Me: We don’t all have that luxury, Cole. I don’t mean to be a bitch about it, but my situation isn’t your situation.
Cole: You’re right. And it’s none of my business.
Cole: You wanna talk about the freak-out?
Blankly, I stare at the wall opposite when I realize that I do.
I want to tell this complete stranger something I would have struggled to share with a friend.
If I had any.
Me: Too many memories. They crowded me until I felt like I was suffocating with the past.
Me: I’m going to have to suck it up though. I need to be in there tomorrow for a delivery.
The notion has me scraping a hand over my face.
As many duties as I had at the bar, a number that increased substantially when Gracie quit after we treated her like shit, there are a dozen more about to be loaded onto my plate.
Chuck living at the bar made things easier for me in many ways.
In the past couple months, as things grew worse for him health-wise, he tried to prepare me, but I’m not ready for what’s about to hit me.
Me: Chuck taught me everything I needed to know but I didn’t think he’d pass away as early as he did.
Me: I was in denial about losing him.
Cole: He was sick?
Me: Yes. For the last two years, but he only told me about the prognosis, like, nine months ago.
Cole: God.