Page 45 of Eight Years (The Trident Trilogy 1)

“I just figured you were busy,” he says. “Is there more to it than that?”

“Yeah, Drew. There is. I’m sorry to do this over the phone.”

“Wait, are you breaking up with me?”

I close my eyes, and dive in. “I think it’s best if we do break up. I’m sorry. I love you, but it’s just not working out for me.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone, but I still hear him breathing. I’ll just let him have a moment.

“Millie, God, I don’t even know what you’re talking about. We’ve been dating for two years, and you’re just going to call me and break up with me? Where are you? I’ll come there, but we can’t have this conversation on the phone. Is there somebody else?”

“There’s not anyone else,” I say, lying slightly. “It’s just my job. It’s only going to get busier, and it’s not fair to you.”

“Don’t use that excuse,” Drew says with anger creeping into his voice. “I’ve never complained once about your travel schedule. If you want to break up with me, tell me why you want out of the relationship, not why you think I do.”

“I don’t know, Drew, it’s just not a priority for me, and after two years, I think it should be.”

“It’s not a priority for you? Damn, Millie, you just said you love me, but I’m not even a priority. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m not sure,” I say. “But, you deserve someone who will make you a priority. You’re an amazing guy.”

“I swear to God if you say, ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ I’m going to lose it,” Drew shouts, making me jump. I try to keep my tone steady.

“I’m sorry, Drew. I really am, but I’m not going to change my mind.”

There’s more silence on the other end of the phone. He finally says, “When are you back in town?”

“I’m not sure, but probably in the next few days. I’ll come by and get my stuff whenever it’s convenient for you.”

“Let’s at least have dinner and talk about it a little more. You owe me that. Will you call me when you get back here?”

I agree to call him for dinner, and we hang up. He sounds like he’s in agony when he says goodbye. I feel guilty that I’m not. The only thing on my mind right now is Mason. It pisses me off so badly, but my mind won’t turn him off. I know he’ll be at the bar, and that’s where I find my body headed.

I walk in and look around a bit to see if he’s there. I don’t see him by the pool tables which is usually where he hangs out, so I decide to just have a drink, and head back to the hotel. I take the same stool I had the first night I came here. After a few minutes, Pete walks over and hands me what looks like a martini.

“I googled how to make a dirty martini,” Pete says, smiling proudly.

“What? That’s amazing. Thank you.” I notice a little redness coming to his cheeks before he quickly turns and walks away.

I take a sip. Way too much olive brine. This is one salty drink. But, Pete made it for me, so I’m drinking all of it. While I’m in deep thought about my drink, two muscular arms snake around me, their hands landing on the bar on either side of me, penning me in. I figure it’s Mason or one of the team, so I don’t react. But then the body moves closer to me and says, “I’ll buy your next round.”

I don’t recognize that voice. I pull back to look at an unfamiliar face.

“What the fuck? Get off of me,” I say, trying to push myself out of his arms.

“Is that any way to say thank you?” the random guy says as he pulls me into a tight squeeze.

I look up to see Pete walking back over.

“Get off her,” he says.

“C’mon, I’m just having a little fun, Petey boy.”

Pete shrugs and walks away. “It’s your funeral, man.”

The guy squeezes me tighter again. I push back against his chest while I try to move one of his arms. Nothing moves. Then, I jab one of my elbows into his side, and he flies off me. I’m starting to think I’m a little stronger than I thought I was when I see Mason pinning my assailant to the bar with one hand. I turn around to see the entire team now crowded around me.

“Whoa, whoa, guys,” I say, standing up and trying to push them back a bit. “I’ve got this.”

---