Page 69 of Waiting for Sunshine

Seeing as how I barely eat most days, I’m in a perpetual state of starvation.

I pull up to Mario’s and make my way inside, the smell of pasta and garlic bread flooding my senses.I’m getting the chicken alfredo.I spot Lauren at a booth in the corner, smiling at me when she looks my way. She stands up and opens her arms just as I finish closing the distance between us.

“Shaney!” she says excitedly.

“Hey, Lu. What on earth are you doing here?” I ask, trying to hide the sadness in my tone.

“I’m here on business.” She says professionally, tossing her brown hair behind her.

“You don’t have a realtor license in California. Do you?” my brows pull in questioningly.

“This is friend business, babe.” She cocks her head. Drawing a deep breath from my chest.

“I’mfine,Lauren.” I roll my eyes playfully. Not at all hiding how much of a lie that is.

“Shane, come on, you are so not fine.” She says giving me a sympathetic look, causing tears to well in my eyes again.

“I don’t know what you want me to say... I’mtryingto be fine. Doesn’t that count for something?” I pick at the hem of my shirt, trying to look anywhere but at her.

“It counts for everything. You are legitimately the strongest woman I’ve ever met. The past year alone would be enough to make me never get out of bed again. It took you what? A week, and you’re back out here painting and working and doing the damn thing.” She sounds so proud of me when in reality I’m barely dragging my ass out of bed at all.

“Fake it til you make it, right?” I say, with no hint of playfulness in my tone.

“I came out here to check on you, give you a hug if you need it, and tell you that Max is an idiot. He’ll see that eventually.” She grabs my hand in hers, squeezing it reassuringly.

“I’m not so sure he will,” I argue. “He wouldn’t even speak to me, Lauren. He heard about a job opportunity for me across the country and didn’t let me get so much as a word out before basically packing my bag for me and sending me on my way. I’d say he’s pretty done with me.” I can feel myself falling deeper into my own sadness again. Playing the events over and over again in my mind was all I seemed capable of doing these days. She grabs her menu and studies it for a moment.

“I’m no expert. But I think you’re wrong.” She says leaving no room for discussion. We order our food and continue to catch up, laughing like we always do when we are together. I miss Nashville so much. I miss seeing my girls almost every day. I miss the weekly girls' nights we had. Trips to Topgolf, Chattahoochies, my studio, Riley, Max. I miss it all. But I guess I just have to let it go.

I reach into my bag and pull out an envelope with Max’s name on it that I have been carrying around since I unpacked it.

“I need you to return these to Max for me please.” I hand Lauren the envelope and she studies it for a moment. Noticing it’s way too bulky to be a note.

“I shouldn’t have his dog tags. I didn’t even realize I packed them with my things. Can you return them for me?” I ask, ignoring the burning sensation in my throat.

She takes the envelope and hugs me goodbye, reassuring me one more time before leaving that Max will come around. I still don’t think he will ever speak to me again though, so I decide to go to the gallery and continue working on the painting I started the day I got back in the studio. Because through the years, I could always count on my art to get me through things.

CHAPTER33

MAX

Everyoneat the bar has been more annoying than usual today. I almost got into it with Jackie of all people, which really goes to show how bad my mood is. I thought after spending the morning at the range with Tucker I may have gotten some of my frustrations out, but the conversation he decided we apparently needed to have left me feeling even more aggravated than before. Just when I think things can’t get any worse, the asshole Lenny got into it with before almost taking Shane’s eye out with a pool cue, comes into the bar.

He sits down on one of the stools and orders a whiskey. He nods over to Lenny, who’s at the pool tables, with a smug look on his face as he tips his drink back. He finishes it in one gulp and orders another. Jesus fucking christ, it’s only noon. He’s trying to have a conversation with me about the bar – how I got started, where did the name come from, why I work the bar when I own the place. All things I don’t engage with him about until he asks one question that has an answer I can’t let slide.

“Whatever happened to that sexy blonde you had working back here?” he asks, finishing off his third whiskey. “She had an ass on her, didn’t she?” he asks absentmindedly. My head snaps up, my narrowed eyes locking with his. I’m not sure if steam is coming from my ears, but with the way my blood is boiling, I wouldn’t be surprised by the fact.

“Oh. Touchy subject. You hit that?” he asks, seeing how his question has clearly pissed me the hell off. I sure as shit hope he’s drunk, otherwise this is going to hurt. I walk around the bar, dragging him outside by the shirt collar. After all, I have a no BS policy. Once we’re out on the mostly empty sidewalk, he turns around trying to fix his shirt.

“What the hell man?” he asks, sounding shocked by what just happened. He better fucking buckle up. I rear back and rock his jaw so hard, he takes a few steps back.

“Son of a bitch!” he yells.

“You’re going to keep your ass out of my bar, and her name out of your fucking mouth.” I huff out.

“I don’t even know her name, asshole.” He says while holding his face. “But if you give it to me, I won’t say it toyou. I’ll just call her myself.”

That’s it, this guy is dead. I turn my hat around backward, my hands fisting at my sides as I get ready to punch him again. The bastard is lucky Tank is working today and sees what’s happening through the window or I’m not sure he would have made it off the sidewalk. He comes running outside from the bar, grabbing my attention.

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