Page 44 of His Last Shot
Good luck, man.
“I never said that I would,” Rachel claps back, and a small snicker comes out of me. Drew’s head snaps in my direction as I take a sip. She continues. “You didn’t get the message I sent you after you tried to kiss me?” She cocks her head to the side. “Tell me, does your cheek still sting?”
I choke on my club soda, coughing through my laughter. Drew drops his head as waves of anger roll off of him. It’s almost as if he’s shocked that Rachel—or any woman, for that matter—isn’t falling to his feet.
And I’m not blind; he’s a good-looking guy. I’m sure he was told his whole life how amazing and handsome he is. His mom likely reassured him that everyone envied him and he was never in the wrong.
Which is why he is the narcissist he is. He gives off a whole Lex Luthor, master of the universe kinda vibe.
His stare, narrow and blazing with disgust, zeroes in on Rachel as he takes a step in her direction. On instinct, I rise from my chair because there is no way I am going to allow this small man to insult her in any way, shape, or form. My sudden movement gets the reaction I want out of him, and he redirects his attention back to me. Rachel raises her eyebrows, wondering what’s about to happen next.
“Something I can help you with?” Drew snides. Our faces are inches apart as we stand off against each other.
He’s toast.
“There he is!” Dexter’s booming voice echoes throughout the bar as he saunters over to us. I’ve never been happier to see the guy as I take a step back from Drew. Dexter waltzes out of the back hallway, his beaming face thrilled hisfavorite person is here. They give each other one of those obnoxious bro hugs. “Mind if I steal your man away for a minute?” he asks Rachel.
God, these two are completely delusional.
Rachel goes about her job, not acknowledging either of them. “I don’t have a man here, so do what you want with him.”
I have to admit, this comment makes me equal parts proud and bummed. Proud that she isn’t going along with the little fairy tale these two men devised. And bummed that I’m not her man.
Not yet, anyway.
Dexter and his obvious apprentice walk back to his office as Drew’s friends make their way to the tables. And now, it’s just Rachel and me again.
With a deliberate spin on the barstool, I give her a pointed stare, raising an eyebrow, my expression hard and questioning. “What?” she asks.
“Please explain to me what in the world you saw in that guy.” Because other than her one and only mention of him the first night we met, she hasn’t spoken of him since. I had a sense that the topic was off-limits. But now that he’s front and center, I’m asking.
She lets out a long sigh. “He wasn’t always like this. When we first met, here actually, and started dating, he was sweet and caring. A really nice guy. Like I told you before, he’s ten years older than me, which wasn’t an issue for either of us. Plus, he’s easy on the eyes.” Her gaze meets mine, shy and hesitant, anticipating my reaction, but I keep my face impassable.
She continues. “After we dated for a little while, he asked me to marry him, and I accepted, even though my head was screaming at me to run.”
“Did you love him?” It’s a simple question. The anticipation of her response is agonizing, but the sickening thought of her being in love with him turns my stomach.
She shrugs. “Yes and no. I think I was in love with the idea of what he was promising me. A home, kids, a future family, you know, a life.”
“And is that what you want? A family, a life with a good man?”
“It is.”
Adding that to my list of goals I want to accomplish with this woman. Because that is what I have always wanted. And maybe, just maybe, I can break through her walls and make her see me. Maybe we can build that future … together.
“Anyway, things changed after he became close with my uncle. He gradually pulled away from me, and that’s around the time the love bombing started. I mean, before this, he would buy me gifts and do sweet things, but out of nowhere, it grew into enormous bouquets of flowers and expensive jewelry. It was constant and overwhelming. I felt smothered even though he was distant.”
“You aren’t a jewelry girl,” I interject. How I know this, I have no clue.
I just know.
A fleeting smile dances across her lips, confirming my assumption, before fading as quickly as it appeared. She opens up some more. “Well, it turns out all the gifts were just him feeling guilty because that’s when I found him with one of the bar waitresses”—she pauses as if this memory is painful to relive—“in my bed.”
My jaw drops. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You found him with another woman, inyourhome and inyourbed?”
“Yep.”
“Good grief. What a pig. Rachel, I am so sorry that happened to you. I can’t imagine how devastating that must have been.” And I mean it. No one deserves that. Especially not someone who brings such light into the world. Into my world. Without even trying. “I bet you let him have it, huh?” I grin as images of Rachel losing it and dumping him right there on the spot seep into my thoughts.
