Page 40 of Guarded Hearts
The VIP booth was crowded with dancers and the men they’d picked up on the dance floor. A few of the guys had tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t seem to drink enough to appear interested.
My phone buzzed with another text message from my sister. She was fighting with Kevin, but I knew better than to say anything bad about the douchebag. They’d be back together in the morning, and I’d be the bad sister for suggesting Olivia could do better. The day my sister showed up on my doorstep with her bags packed, I might take her seriously. Until then, I’d send a barrage of supportive emojis and keep my opinions to myself.
“Another drink?” Amy asked just after she drained her fruity cocktail.
“Sure.” I flipped my phone face down so I could ignore my sister for a little while. “I wanted to get drunk, but it’s just not happening.”
“You’ve been really down this week.” Amy scanned the booth and leaned into my ear. “Does it have anything to do with Pasha, or is it all your ankle?”
His name in my ear stirred my anger. After we’d grown so close, his absence made me almost violently angry.
“Why?” I asked. If he’d said something to Amy about me, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about that. The last thing I wanted was for him to turn to Amy as some sort of confidant. My stomach rolled. If they were sleeping together and I was their pillow talk, I might vomit right now.
“He hardly talks to me in our dance sessions. Grunts, nods, but that’s it. And you’re not your usual bright, sunny self when you’re coachingus. It’s all just really awkward.” Amy plucked her straw out of her drink and stuck it between her teeth.
I trusted Amy, but I hadn’t told anyone about Pasha. Not a single soul. What had been going on between us had been something I’d kept close to my heart. “It’s just the ankle. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”
“Has your sister eased up about Ricky?”
I’d broken down and told Amy, not about the debt but about Ricky’s various betrayals and my sister’s suggestion that the relationship could still be saved. Without the constant contact with Pasha, I’d been lonely, and I’d needed to talk about something, get at least a piece of the weight off my chest. Instead of laughing at my foolishness, Amy had looked me in the eyes and said, “You deserve better. Hold onto that, okay? You deserve better.”
“She’s brought him up a few times in the last week. She’s gotta be talking to him regularly, or Kevin is, which means they know where he is. I don’t want to think about it. The tour, the wedding, and then I can focus on my dumpster fire of a personal life.” I drained the last of my drink, and Amy took my cup.
“You going to the bar?” Maria asked from beside the table.
“Amy is,” I said as my phone vibrated again.
“You look like you’re having a shitty time.” Maria gestured to my overturned phone and how I’d chipped the polish off my nails. “Come to the bar with me. The bartender is a bit of a flirt. Good for an entertaining conversation. It’s not too busy yet. Stretch your ankle.”
“Yeah, okay,” I agreed.
Amy slid me twenty dollars for the drinks, since I’d bought the last round. When I first put weight on my ankle, I winced. Maria stayedbeside me until I could hobble to the bar in the far corner without too much pain.
I slid onto a stool at the bar and chatted with Maria while the bartender filled other people’s drinks. When he got to them, his banter was cute enough to elicit a smile, and when Maria had our drinks, I opted to sit at the bar for a while. Switching off my brain and engaging in some mindless banter wouldn’t be so bad.
“I can read life lines,” Chris, the bartender, said with a grin.
“Life lines?” I gave him an amused look over the rim of my glass. “Wanna read mine?” I laid my hand flat on the bar, palm up.
He cradled my hand in his and traced his finger along the creases. “Well, it looks—”
The VIP area erupted into gasps and a smattering of applause. I turned slightly to catch a glimpse of whoever had entered.
On the threshold of the VIP area were Mia and Tyler with their hands clasped, and in front of them was Pasha, glaring the room down, Gerald beside him. My heart jumped into my throat, and a flush rose to my cheeks. The sight of him was a knife twisting in my gut. Our eyes locked.
As far as I knew, Mia hadn’t booked an appearance, and bringing Tyler along was even rarer. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from getting out of my seat and making a scene by either falling at Pasha’s feet or absolutely unleashing my pent-up rage at his behavior. Instead, I turned back to Chris, the bartender, and smiled. “You were saying?”
“You work for her, right?” Chris tipped his head in Mia’s direction.
“Yep.” I suppressed a sigh. The sight of Mia usually went one of two ways—people either pretended they didn’t care or cared entirely too much. Chris was going to be a guy who cared. I could feel it.
“How long do you give her and her fiancé? Want to bet it’s a year or two tops? These celeb pairings never work out. Isn’t there twenty years between them or something?”
I raised my eyebrows and took a drink from my glass, slipping off the stool. “Not quite. Might want to check your celeb-gossip site.” I tucked my phone into my back pocket. “She’s a great employer, and he’s a really good guy. I wouldn’t want to bet on them not making it. If they can’t make it work, the rest of us are doomed. They really love each other.”
A few months ago, I might have indulged the guy in his need for gossip. Said little. Listened a lot. Not anymore. After everything Mia had done for me, I understood she deserved my loyalty, not my gossip.
The first step after having sat with my feet dangling was painful, and I had to stand for a minute with both feet bearing weight before I could even attempt to walk back to the dancers’ table.
