Page 77 of The Boyfriend Boycott
At least, that’s how I should feel. I can’t tell if the nausea roiling through my gut is nerves or intuition, but something inside me is not sitting right. It must be the tights. I never wear tights. I never wear anything tight like this at all.
I check the time again, not wanting to be too early, but not wanting to be too late either, and I see a text from Grady that came in while I was finding a parking space.
GRADY
Good luck on your first day, Aunty Rebel!
He’s attached a picture of him holding Hazel. She is currently the human equivalent of a potato and has no idea what’shappening, but he’s holding her tiny arms up as if she’s cheering me on.
The message makes me smile. It makes me unable to tear my eyes away from my phone screen. It makes everything inside me scream that I’m walking away from everything I love, everything I hold dear.
I suddenly see this job through a new lens, no longer a rose-coloured one, and Ally’s words come back to me.You can’t control everything.
She’s right. Even this job isn’t a guarantee. It’s just what I’ve always done. I’ve always strived for security, independence. I’ve had to work harder than most people who go to college, or who have a family that acts as a safety net. I’ve had to work so hard that I’ve forgotten to look up, to look around me and appreciate my life for what it is.
Nose to the grindstone. That’s what it’s always been. To outsiders, my life looks exciting and fun, full of travel and adventure, but to me, it’s always been about the hustle. I’ve missed so much of the enjoyment.
I’ve missed out on forming relationships, on being somewhere long enough to create a home that feels like a home.It’s all been meaningless. What is a home without the people who make it feel that way? People who fill your four walls full of love, laughter, and joy? I’ve worked for years to put a roof over my head, but for what? To go to sleep alone, to wake up alone, and to never have someone to share the day with.
My eyes brim with tears when I consider all the years I’ve wasted trying to protect myself. All I was doing was trying to protect the little version of me that still lives in my heart, who isn’t enough for the people who should take care of me, and who is absolutely terrified all the time. I trust myself to take care of her now. All I’ve ever done is take care of her. Now, though, it’s time to give her the life she deserves. The love she desires.
I scroll through my contacts, find Sasha’s name, and hit the phone icon. She picks up on the third ring.
“Sasha, hi.” My voice is wobbly. “We need to talk.”
CHAPTER 33
GRADY
“Earth to Grady.”Finn’s voice reaches me through my zoned-out state and the cacophony of the crowded bar. “Table nine needs a refill.”
He’s busy pouring some beers for a group of guys that just walked in and took the last free table, and points with his chin at the table with empty glasses.It’s a full house, and even the bar top is starting to fill up. I need to get my head in the game tonight, and it is decidedly out of it.
“On it,” I answer, and I head over to ask who wants another round. I write their order down on the small pad of paper I keep tucked in my black apron, something I rarely have to do anymore.
Fuck, I’m tired. I scrub my hand down my face and shake myself awake.
Spencer and I stayed on the phone way too late last night. She fell asleep on the other end. I knew as much when the line went quiet except for her even rhythmic breathing.
I stayed on the call for another few hours anyway, in case she woke up and wondered where I was. I finally fell asleep too, and the call dropped at some point in the night.
If this is what long distance is like, I don’t know how long I’ll last. I hate this. I hate that I couldn’t hold Spencer as she fell asleep last night. I hate that she wasn’t here when I woke up. I hate that even though we spent hours on the phone with each other yesterday, it didn’t feel like enough. Mostly, I hate that those kinds of conversations, the ones where we have all the time in the world, will be an anomaly. It may never be that easy to talk on the phone again. All I’ll get are snippets of time and I’ll hold my breath waiting for her next call.
The drinks get delivered to the table, though I barely remember doing it, and I tell Finn that I’m going to take a breather in my office. Guests have been trickling out slowly as the night nears last call, so I retreat to do some work on the books before heading home.
I’ve strictly avoided going into the office since Spencer left. There aren’t many places around town where I can avoid remembering what it was like with her here, but when I’m at the bar, I do everything in my power to avoid the office.
But tonight, there’s no way I can delay the bookkeeping tasks any longer. I’m already behind and the longer I wait to look, the worse it will get.
I sit down on the worn leather office chair, and eye the plate with the remnant crumbs of the cheesecake Spencer and I shared. We had left in a hurry the night I brought her here, and I can still make out a faint smudge of her lipstick on the fork.
She looked absolutely radiant that night, and my chest seizes at the thought of how comfortable we’d been together. Our first date, and it didn’t feel awkward. It felt just right. How many dates will we get to have like that now?
My vision blurs and I’m unable to focus on the spreadsheet of expenses and order sheets to review. I click through a few windows absentmindedly. It takes me twice as long to do the weekly budget and send in the order for next month, andI’m certain that Doug will give me an earful when there are inevitably items missing. I click the window closed finally and turn in my chair when I hear a soft knock on the door frame.
“Bar is closed. There’s just one guest left, and then I’ll lock up,” Finn informs me.
“They won’t leave? Tell them we’re closed now,” I say, not surprised that Finn is too nice to tell someone to get out.
