Page 28 of Hidden Vows
“How are we doing down here?” There’s a small smile on his lips, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Part of me wants to know what he’s thinking and why he’s not truly happy. Maybe it’s the alcohol part of me, or maybe it’s a bigger part—one I’m not sure I’m ready to acknowledge.
“I think we’re going to get out of here.” Gage looks down at Ava, smoothing the hair that’s fallen out of her ponytail from her face. “Trying to figure out if Abbey’s coming home with us or if she’s okay to stay on her own.”
“I’m definitely okay to stay on my own.” I lift a finger as if trying to make a point but quickly forget and drop my hand back to the bar.
“You sure? We’ve got the space if you want to stay with us.” The furrow of Gage’s brow deepens as he studies me, and my smile grows as I look at him.
“You are a good man, Gage Flynn, but I promise I’m okay on my own. I’m not that drunk, I swear.” I hold up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“Abbey.” He chuckles. “You weren’t a scout.”
I shrug, not worried in the slightest.
Jude shuffles his feet, his mouth opening and closing a coupleof times before he finally speaks. “I’ll make sure she gets up to her apartment.”
“I don’t need help walking up a set of stairs. I’m fine.” I stand from my seat—admittedly, it may be a little too abrupt.
Without meaning to, I stumble.
Gage and Jude both reach for me, but it’s Gage who catches me before I fall.
“Alrighty. Either I’m walking you up to your apartment before Ava and I leave, or you’re letting Jude help you.”
My eyes narrow. I know I’m not sober, but I wouldn’t call myself drunk. I’m perfectly capable of getting myself home on my own—it’s a set of stairs and I’m there. But then I see Jude out of the corner of my eye, and I have to wonder if my resistance has more to do with the idea of relying on Jude than the idea of Gage thinking I’m too drunk to take care of myself.
Before I can open my mouth to protest, Ava jumps in, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I think I might be sick.” She stands from her seat far more gracefully than I did but still leans heavily against Gage. The twinkle in her eye when she looks at me makes me think she might not be as drunk as she leads the rest of us to believe.
Gage’s eyes bounce between mine and Ava’s, looking as if he can’t quite decide what his course of action should be.
Sometimes I hate my people-pleasing tendencies.
“Go on. Get Ava home.” I fall back onto my seat, elbow on the bar and my chin resting in the palm of my hand.I’m definitely pouting.
“Love you, Abbey! I’ll see you tomorrow.” Ava surges forward, pressing a sloppy kiss to my cheek before standing straight and gliding out the door, Gage right behind her.
“There’s no way she’s that drunk,” Jude mumbles as hewatches the two of them leave.
“Nope, she’s attempting to play matchmaker.” I spring up in my seat, my eyes widening when I realize the words I just said. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Sheisdrunk and not thinking clearly.”
Jude’s eyes soften as he looks at me and I shift in my seat, avoiding his gaze.
“How about a glass of water while I finish closing up?” He turns for a clean glass and fills it with water before placing it before me. My eyes catch on the tattoos dotted across his knuckles, but he pulls his hand back before I can identify any of the letters or symbols.
It’s not until I’m lifting the glass to my lips that I realize he didn’t put any ice in it—exactly how I prefer it.
He doesn’t stand around waiting for me to say anything but moves out from behind the bar, passing the door and flipping the lock before he starts wiping down the now-empty tables.
I can’t help but track his movements around the bar. There’s a grace to him I’ve never seen before, a confidence in how he holds himself. When we were younger, he used to walk around with his shoulders hunched forward as if trying to make himself invisible. Now, he stands straight as if proud of who he is.
I always thought Jude was good-looking, but seeing this new, more confident version of him is far more attractive than I’d like to admit.Why couldn’t he have gotten worse with age?
It’s hard not to notice how much muscle he’s gained since he was a teenager. I can’t know for sure, but I imagine they were made from hard work and not some egotistical power trip. Jude and I may not know each other the way we used to, but he’s never been one to let ego drive his motivations.
“I know you were celebrating that your dad is giving you somemoney, but what do you need the money for?” Jude’s voice breaks through my thoughts, forcing me to focus on something other than his firm ass as he bends to pick up a dropped napkin.
“Oh.” I spin away, toying with the rim of my glass so I’ll stop looking at him. “Marybelle’s retiring and decided to sell the store. She knows I’ve always dreamed of owning a café and thought I could buy the store from her.”
“And you don’t have the money.” It’s not a question. Jude knows how my father feels about working for what you have. Sometimes, I think that might be why he judges Walt and Jude so harshly. While Walt’s parents worked like hell to get this bar off the ground, Walt inherited it. Of course, you only need to step into this bar once on a Friday or Saturday night to know how hard Walt still works to keep this place running.
