Page 157 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
But what hurt me more than anything was that she never called either.
I had regrets in those first three weeks. I regretted the way I came at her, regretted that I didn’t congratulate her on getting hired when she’d worked so hard for it, regretted that I’d had that conversation over the phone instead of flying to her.
But soon, those regrets became too much to hold, so I let them go, too.
Santana flew in from New York after about two months of me moping, and together, she and Sylvia got me out of my funk. They made me hit the gym with them for a week straight, took me out surfing, got me back out and around friends, and by the time Santana flew back to the Empire State, I felt like I could finally start over.
That was the precise moment Angel walked into my life.
Angel Connelly was a spicy little thing. By the looks of her, you would have thought she was as innocent as her name. She was petite, with short blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She had a bit of a southern accent that gave her this shining charm, but the more you got to know her, the more you realized she’d fight like a pit bull if it came down to it. She was passionate about her job, yoga, and church — not necessarily in that order — and when she wanted something, she didn’t give up until she got it.
It didn’t take long for me to realize she wanted me.
Angel worked in the same building where my dad’s office was. She was in advertising, and we stumbled into each other in an elevator ride down to the lobby one night after work. This was back in June, back when the only woman I could see was B.
Angel tried to shoot her shot, but I turned her down, telling her I had a girlfriend.
It was technically a lie, but I’d assumed it wouldn’t be that way for long.
Even after that, though, Angel and her friends would somehow end up at the same bars as me and the guys after the work week, and I got to know a little more about her each time. She was friendly, funny, nice. I liked her.
And when B broke my heart, Angel was there to pick up the pieces.
After my sisters pulled me out of my funk, I was trying to focus on me, working out and surfing and trying to impress my dad enough to offer me partnership at the firm. I stayed late at work one night, and when I finally rode the elevator down at almost nine o’clock at night, I ran into her — she’d been staying late, too.
She asked if I wanted to grab a drink.
And even though B flooded my mind in that exact moment, even though my stomach coiled at the thought of spending time with another woman, and even though I knew I didn’t have much of myself left to give… I said yes.
It surprised me, how much fun I had with her that night. Angel was a storyteller, and she kept me laughing and enthralled until almost two in the morning. I walked her home, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and she typed her number into my phone.
I called her the very next morning and asked her on a proper date.
I knew part of letting B go meant getting back out into the dating world. And since I hadn’t really ever dated, in the sense of having a steady girlfriend and not just a woman in my bed, I was excited about the possibility.
It was all part of my plan, after all — the degree, the job, the wife, the kids. How did I expect to get the latter half of that dream if I didn’t start dating?
It was easy with Angel. We were complete opposites, which meant there was never a shortage of date ideas. I tried to teach her how to surf, which she failed at miserably, and she took me to a hot yoga class that I almost passed out in. I made her watch horror films that had her clinging to my side, and she made me watch reality TV shows that I pretended to find cheesy and dramatic, when secretly, I kind of liked them, too.
Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, until we were on the cusp of the holiday season. That was when I made things official with Angel, and for the first time since Jenna, I had a girlfriend.
It was a warm night in November, standard for South Florida, when B crashed back into my life without a warning.
Angel and I were out at a little hipster bar with her best friend, Claire, and some of the guys I worked with. After a long week at work, we reveled in letting go, the alcohol buzzing through us as Angel sat in my lap and kissed me far too inappropriately for the public eye.
