Page 75 of Stacked
It was the start of the distance between us.
When he got back, he didn’t call. He didn’t reach out. He didn’t answer my texts. He just ghosted me.
Ghosted.
The longer he went without contacting me, the more confused I became. What had this all been? A fling? A random hookup?A publicity stunt to garner more attention?It certainly fit his NYC persona to do that.
Who the hell does he think he is?
Bothered by a spate of questions with no answers, I finally gave in and swung by the store one Wednesday evening after I finished a quick trip to Kroger for some laundry detergent and groceries. It was after six, and I was surprised to see the lights still on and a few cars parked near the business.
But only Javier was inside, cleaning a large section of wall near the newly finished bar.
“Hi,” he said when he saw me, his jaw slack. “Do you want to come in?”
I nodded. “If that’s okay.”
He let me in through the front door, his brow beaded with sweat, his shoulders drooping with exhaustion.
“This looks fantastic,” I tried. “I knew the place was coming along, but it almost looks like a totally different space.”
“Only a few more days until the opening.”
I turned around one more time, taking in his handiwork—lots of brushed gold, carved wood, artfully placed tile, accent walls. Javier was well-known around New Burlington and had done the revamp of the library two years earlier, but Robert’s bookstore was something else entirely.
It was a masterpiece.
“This is more than a bookstore,” I admitted. “More than a bar too.”
Javier laughed and put his hands in his work overalls, which were stained with paint splatter every color of the rainbow. “I’ll tell Robert.”
“Speaking of Robert—”
“He’s not here.”
Javier’s abrupt reply didn’t just cut off my words. It made me jump. “Okay.”
“He’s out of town.”
“Again?”
Javier shook his head, and his shoulders tightened, straining against the thick cloth of his work jumpsuit. “No, still.”
I stepped forward. “You can tell me the truth.”
“I am.”
I moved even closer. “You’re a terrible liar.”
After a beat, Javier nodded. “I hate getting in the middle of stuff.”
Still staring at him, I sized him up and what I knew about Robert.
Screw it.
So what if we’d slept together? So what if we’d been in a viral video that got millions of views and ended in an appearance on a national morning show? So what if our kiss at the float competition had turned into a widely-used GIF? None of it meant I had to spend my life with Robert, or that we were meant to be together, or that we even had a chance at a real relationship.
It only meant that we’d shared a moment in time, a slice of our lives together. And clearly, that slice was over.
