Page 2 of One Hotlanta Night
“So tell me exactly what you said to him. Word for word,” Claire says, tossing her long brown hair over one shoulder.
I roll my shoulders back, coming back to the present moment. “I told him if he was feeling so needy, he should let her finish the job. And then I walked out.” I fold my arms over my chest, goosebumps covering my arms. It’s April but this is Atlanta, so we’ve had to start running the A/C early. It’s either the breeze ofthe vent above me or the resignation in my head that makes me shiver.
It’s definitely not a broken heart; I know what that feels like.
“Well, I for one amtrulyglad that you are done with that bastard. But how are you really feeling about all of this?” Claire asks me.
“You know, I’m okay.” I blow out a breath and toss my curls over my shoulder, already frizzy from the humidity. Gotta love Georgia. “I mean, it’s like he’s some security blanket that was super soft and fuzzy in the beginning, and then just ended up being a ratty piece of lint by the end.”
She snorts. “Yeah, that’s a pretty good description.”
“I think I’m more mad at myself for always going back to him, you know?”
“Listen, chica, we are both guilty of staying in relationships that weren’t good for us.” Her mouth twists to the side; boy, does she ever know this first-hand. Her dead husband was a piece of work, and no one knew just how bad it was between them until after he was gone. I didn’t know Claire back then, but I know he did a number on her, to the point where she won’t even consider dating.
If he wasn’t dead already, I’d kill him myself.
“But there’s always a silver lining, right?” She grins. If anyone can make proverbial lemonade, it’s Claire. “I got Raelynn, and you’ve got—”
“What, Claire? What did I get out of this shitshow?”
“Freedom from the dipshit, for one.” She boops me on the nose, and I almost choke on my wine. Didn’t expect those words from her.
“Claire!”
“Well, it’s true. He was never right for you. Nevergoodenough for you,” she says, looking directly in my eyes. She knows how much his belittling got to me.
I swallow. “Yeah, right.”
“Chica, I’m serious. You’re worth so much more than that douchebag. Youdeserveit all.”
“As do you, my friend. As do you.” I salute her with my wine glass.
Not pressing further, she asks, “So what do you want to do now? Call up one of those other boy toys to distract you for a while?” She wiggles her eyebrows mischievously, and I swat her arm with the back of my hand.
“Hell no! I’m taking a break. For real this time.” To be fair, I don’t have the greatest track record; I prefer to have someone cute just a phone call away. “I’m serious. This is it. I’m done with the drama, done with broken hearts, done with the roller-coaster emotions.”
I slap my hand on the bar, thankful the dinner rush hasn’t yet started to see me lose my shit.
“I’m over it. Romance, dating, love, andmen.” Leaning back on the bar stool, I blow out a breath. “You said it right the first time. They’re not worth it.”
“Riiiight…” she drawls. I narrow my eyes at her and she laughs. “Okay, okay! I’ll believe it when I see it!”
Her eyes sparkle and I’ll admit, it feels good to have someone in my corner who sees all my flaws and still loves me anyway.
“All right, well, before you embark on your self-imposed celibacy, I insist that we go out to celebrate! I won’t take no for an answer,” she adds, fiery eyes gleaming, and I know there is no arguing with her.
“What about Raelynn?” I ask.
“She’s at her aunt’s tonight. Emily wanted a weekend with her.” Raelynn’s aunt and uncle treat her like their own. I’ve never really thought about children, but being around Raelynn makes me hope for some.
One day. If my body can handle it.
Although heaven knows our restaurant schedule isn’t conducive to child-rearing. Forget finding the guy, I’d have to find somewhere else to work. And I won’t even entertain that thought.
Claire and Raelynn are family. We stick together, no matter what. Scraping together enough band-aids to slap over whatever needs the most help, although most days there’s not enough time or money to go around. We still make it work.
“Let’s make magic happen!” she says merrily, the lines by her eyes belying her cheery tone. It’s her go-to phrase when life is especially tough. She’s the only person I know who can get off the phone with a bill collector, take a deep breath, and then start singing “Hakuna Matata” at the top of her lungs while swinging a giggly toddler on her hip. If there’s anyone who can handle this level of chaos, it’s Claire.
