Page 33 of Imperfection is Beauty

And for the next four weeks, I really liked getting up in the mornings and coming here.

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Right after my shift, I found myself sitting at a corner table atMickey’s Pubwith Betty, and Red, her fiancé.

“I can’t believe you're getting married this weekend,” I whispered to Betty with giddy excitement.

That was when a waitress came over and sat a glass of red wine down in front of me and said, “Pardon me, but the gentleman at the bar bought this for you.”

I smiled at her and shook my head, “Thank you, but I’m not interested.”

“Playing hard to get. I like it,” then she flounced away with the drink.

Yeah, she had it all so wrong.

Betty shook her head, and then looked at me with wide eyes and mocked, “Wow. Clue the fuck in, bitch.”

I snickered at Betty.

That was golden.

The woman needed a major clue the fuck in.

I smiled at Red. “So, she’s been keeping it a secret where you're taking her for y’all’s honeymoon.”

Red wagged his finger at me, “And it’s going to remain a secret until we get back and she tells you.”

And that was when the waitress returned with that blasted glass of wine. “The gentleman said, how come you didn’t even look over here?”

I sighed, “I’m out with my friends. I’m not here to get picked up. And sending a woman a drink is either a nice way of saying she’s beautiful and you see her, which is sweet. Or it’s the latter part of it and telling her, hey, look, I bought you a drink now I expect sexual favors as payment. I’m good.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I bought that drink for another reason,” I heard a deep rasp say.

A deep. Rasp. An all too familiar deep rasp.

Holy fucking shit.

My eyes had closed. Since when had they closed?

Snapping them open, I looked around the waitress and then looked up, up, and then up, and then… my eyes landed on that perfect face.

“You’re a hard woman to get a hold of.” What? He had tried to get a hold of me.

Am I alive? Or am I dreaming?

He chuckled, “You're alive, Shortcake.”

I winched, “I said that aloud?”

He nodded.

“You have to forgive her. She does that a lot,” Betty said, and I kicked her underneath the table.

And what did the bitch do? She didn’t say ouch, no, she simply laughed.

Sighing, I gestured over to Betty, “Marcus, this is my best friend Betty and her fiancé Red.”

Betty’s eyes widened. I widened my own eyes in saying,don’t make me look like a stalker.

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