Page 40 of If You Never Come Back
“I’ll make it that simple. I promise.”
I inhale. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
Chapter Fourteen
Aweek of bartending in the evenings and Wes is a no-show. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised. I half-expected him to crawl through the entrance of Dandy Lime on his hands and knees, begging for my forgiveness. But he apparently has better things to do.
Remy slides up next to me, wiping down the counter with a towel. “How are you holding up?”
“Fine.”
It’s only half-true. Part of me is fine that Wes hasn’t shown his face here. But the other part of me is wondering when exactly I’ll see him again. I can’t live in this holding pattern forever.
Remy frowns. I know he doesn’t believe a word I’ve said. But he’s gracious and doesn’t call me on it. He leaves me with a pat on the shoulder before turning to the next customer at the bar and taking their order.
I check the clock. Five minutes to last call. I do a run-through of the tables, swiping up any empty glasses, then shout the warning for last call.
I’m restacking napkins when out of the corner of my eye someone walks over.
“What can I get you?” I ask, still fixated on the dispenser.
“Tequila, please.”
My hands freeze when the rough, low voice hits my ears. I don’t have to look up. I know it’s Wes.
Instead of serving him, I stay standing in place.
Seconds pass. Wes clears his throat. “Could we maybe…”
“No.”
It bursts from my mouth like a soft-spoken bullet. Every muscle in my body tenses. The last time I let Wes in, it broke me. Never, ever again.
“I just want to talk,” Wes says.
When I finally look up at him, he’s just as sad as he sounds. His brow is furrowed, his shoulders are slumped, and his rich brown eyes are a new shade of sorrowful. Still so damn handsome, though. There’s a squeeze at the center of my chest where my heart used to be, where it used to beat just for him.
I swallow the pain back. “You wanna talk over tequila? Are you serious right now?”
Our conversation nabs the attention of a handful of nearby patrons. Heavy footsteps echo behind me.
“I think you should leave,” Remy says from behind me.
Wes’s pained stare darts to right above my head. He opens his mouth to speak, but Remy cuts him off. “Leave now or I’ll make you leave.”
Wes sighs, the hesitation evident in the way his eyes dart around, then back at me. “I’m really not trying to cause a scene. All I want is to talk.”
“She already told you she’s not interested,” Remy says.
Another loaded silence. The background noise of chatter and laughing has died out. Instead, there are hushed whispers. Heat crawls up my chest, my neck, my cheeks. Everyone is watching our charged exchange.
Wes tries again, but Remy shuts him down. I wonder just how long this will play out. Will Wes leave me alone for a stretch of days, then show up at the bar, pleading for a chance to talk? At that rate, I’ll never, ever get over him. Maybe a final talk is what I need to close this chapter of our past for good, and then I can move on. We both can.
I place a hand on Remy’s arm. “It’s fine.”
He backs away a few steps and clears the empties from the bar top.
I pivot back to Wes. “We close in twenty minutes. Come back then and we’ll talk.”
