Page 5 of From West, With Regret

“My boss can handle it.”

I relax. “Thank you.” Despite my need to get going, I don’t want to leave. It’s a strange feeling. Like there’s an invisible string keeping me tethered to this place.

“No problem,” he says on a breath, so quiet I almost think I didn’t hear him.

I give him a smile, and when he doesn’t give me one back, I try not to let him see how it affects me. I don’t have time to decipher his sudden change in expression.

I turn to leave, and when I push through the door, I’m met with pelting rain. Sheets pour down on me, and I look up, squinting at the sky. Of course it would fucking rain.

Tucking my now-wet hair behind my ear, I march down the street toward the next block, knowing the inevitable is coming.

I’m about to meet my husband’s family.

TWO

WEST

She steals the air from my lungs and takes it with her the moment the door shuts behind her.

She stands on the sidewalk for a few seconds, looking up at the sky. Rain pelts her face as her mouth falls open and her eyes squeeze shut. She’s absolutely stunning. Her raven hair is quickly drenched, and before I can gather my thoughts, she swipes her hand across her forehead and marches on, soon disappearing out of view. Then it truly does feel as if every ounce of oxygen is gone, the raven-haired girl taking it without regard.

“Wow, it really just came out of nowhere, didn’t it?” my bartender Lewis says. He moves to stand beside me, but I’m paralyzed, still trying to fucking breathe.

From the corner of my eye, Lewis plants his hands on his hips and stares out the window, shaking his head in disapproval. “I hate the rain.”

I don’t bother mentioning the fact it’s been cloudy all morning and rain was inevitable. I’m still speechless, wondering how the fuck I’m going to go the rest of the day acting as if I didn’t just seeandtalk to her.

When I don’t respond, Lewis moves to the beer taps and starts wiping them down. They don’t need to be cleaned, but I can tell he’s nervous. He’s always nervous when I show up. They all are.

“I didn’t think you were coming in today,” he adds, polishing the gold piping of the taps.

“I come once a month to check on the place. You know this.”

My mind is still tangled up in London. An inexplicable pull urges me to follow her. I let her go one too many times before, and now, here I am, allowing her to slip through my fingers again. But how can I go after her when she just dropped back into my life out of the fucking blue? How can I follow her when I’ve been reduced to nothing but being a complete stranger to her?

“Yeah,” Lewis continues. “But it usually isn’t until the end of the month. And, well, I heard about your brother, so I figured…”

This time, Lewis’s comment pulls my attention away from where London last stood.

“You had some ideas about how to better market this location,” I cut him off, switching subjects. “I’m here to listen to you.”

“Really?” Lewis’s eyes widen, and his jaw drops. He’s young—in his mid-twenties, at least—but I love his eagerness to pitch ideas on how to better some of the properties I’ve bought, from bars to restaurants, on the verge of collapse. Places such as this one. I’ve put in the work to revamp this old speakeasy, but I know there’s still room for improvement. Lewis was hired by the bar manager, Piper, a couple months ago, and the few times I’ve met him, he’s offered up his opinions. Ones I’m open to.

I raise my eyebrows, silently telling him I’m all ears, but I know I’m not being completely honest. My mind is still reeling from my conversation with London.

Lewis is right: I wasn’t meant to be here today, and I wouldn’t have been if it weren’t for my need for a distraction. A distraction from the endless calls from my mother. Or the debate I’ve had in my mind ever since I found out about my brother’s untimely, suspicious death.

My need to come up with any excuse to not go to my own brother’s funeral led me straight to London.

London and her gray eyes, black as night hair, and perfect, pouty lips that I haven’t stopped thinking about since the last time I saw her. Lips I haven’t stopped thinking about since the last time we spoke to each other.

Before everything changed.

I’m still thinking about that perfect mouth of hers and the glinting silver ball pierced into the center of her tongue. Something she definitely didn’t have the last time we spoke.

Lewis scratches his chin and looks around the dining room. I almost forgot we were in the middle of a conversation.

He points to the tables and then the walls. “I think the overall cohesiveness of this place is scattered. A singular message would work better. Maybe some new artwork or furniture that blends seamlessly together.”

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