Page 4 of Silver Fox
Couples fill the tables around me, whispering to one another over scarlet cocktails. A single rose adorned each table, and bunting was draped across the ceiling, trailing the most sickeningly adorable fat red hearts around the room.
And lining the opposite wall was a long, low electric fireplace, the flames within turned the brightest of pinks.
It was Valentine’s Day.
“Your Bellini,” the short blonde bartender says, pulling me from my realization.
“Thank you,” I reply automatically, but she’s already gone, taking another order from further up the bar. A low buzz fills the room as the conversations of the people around me merge into a single organism. I hear none of it, draining my Bellini far too quickly.
My phone rings, and I grimace. It’s Brett.
I press the green button and lift it to my ear. “What?”
“Where the fuck are you, Skye? I came back to the apartment and you and the cat are both gone.”
The cat.
That was what he always called Bryaxis. When I’d adopted little Axi, Brett had turned his nose up, protesting he was a dog person. “And not like those little rat dogs either,” he’d assured me.
I let out a sigh.
Might as well have this conversation now, I guess. I wasn’t trapped in an apartment with him this time.
“It’s over, Brett.”
“No,” he says vehemently, and I imagine him swiping his hand through the air. “Absolutely not. You said you’d think about it. It’s been a few hours; you haven’t hadtimeto think about it.”
“I don’t need your goddamn permission to break up with you.”
The scoff he huffs out makes me want to puke. “Did you know I was looking at freaking engagement rings for you last week? This isn’t just a relationship for me. I want you as my wife.”
Taking a sip of my Bellini, I sigh, jostled by a woman behind me. “Looking at engagement rings last week, fucking my sister this week. You’ve been a busy boy. Go fuck yourself. Or will Sara do it for you?”
“You don’t need to be so goddamn dramatic, Skye. Call me in the morning once your hissy fit has finished and we can have a proper conversation.”
“I’m not calling you back in the morning.”
“Goddammit, Skye, where are you? I’m comin—”
Rolling my eyes, I press the end call button.
He calls back immediately, but I’m already blocking his number.
The breath I let loose is one of frustration, because all I want to do is throw my phone out of the window. It’s then that my gaze lands on the chalkboard declaring that they’re serving 2 for 1 drinks in honor of Valentine’s Day.
A slow smirk spreads across my face.
Oh I’ll be having that, thank you very much.
When the bartender next comes within reach, I hail her down. “Can I get two peach Bellinis? They’re 2 for 1, right?”
“Right,” the bartender smiles. “You need a table? We’re starting beer pong over in that corner in a few minutes, so that’s all being cleared away in a sec.”
My eyebrow jumps. “Beer pong?”
She nods. “Boys versus girls. Every drink you win is free.”
Huh. Maybe tonight wasn’t going to be dead after all.
