But I know Simon doesn’t see me that way. Even if he can’t risk his heart again, his regard for me shows in the sweet gestures—like the bottomless lattes—he extends to me.
I can’t even ask what the hell just happened, because he’s gone. And Dan is holding the door open expectantly. So, I grab my stuff and head out.
I exchange pleasantries with Dan for a moment before getting in my car; though, I have no intention of heading home. A bold part of me wants to drive over to Simon’s to finish what we started. And I’m not just talking about the conversation in my office or the heated looks. Nope. I want to stand on his doorstep and declare my love.
But I don’t.
My next steps will require a plan. A scheme, if you will. And I’m on my way to consult the best schemer I know, even if it means heading to an overcrowded bar on a Friday night.
I make the turn at Meridian Street and find parking off Walnut and walk down to the bar, texting Molly on my way.
Maybe I need a little liquid courage? It’s possible.
I definitely need my best friend, of that there is no doubt.
EVERYONE AND THEIR DAMNbrother is at Martinis, and I question my decision to come here, only moments after entering.
I’m just in a bad mood.
And dammit, I don’t even have a right to be pissed. I’m the one who dumped him. Repeatedly.
Also stupidly. So, so very stupidly. But how do you come back from that? How do you say, ‘Hey, I know I keep breaking your heart and toying with your emotions, but let’s get back together. I’ve changed, I promise.’ I’m pretty sure that Hallmark doesn’t make a card for that.
I make my way through the crowd and find Molly perched on a stool, talking to a guy.
Some things never change. And I’d bet money that he’s gorgeous. Molly has a knack for attracting the most delectable-looking men.
Usually, I would head to the bar and get myself a drink and leave Molly to her gentleman. I’m not one to infringe on her potential sexy times.
But tonight, I’m going to be that annoying friend who interrupts her best friend mid-chat.
“Molls! My love life is a steaming pile of crap, and I need your help, and, I’m sorry, sir, but you’re going to have to take your flirty flirtations elsewhere. This is a best-friend emergency.” I stop mid-tirade to see familiar pitch-black eyes leveling a hardened gaze at me. Nick…” I stammer.
“Hey, Elaine.” His words aren’t harsh exactly, but there’s no friendliness in them, either.
“So, Nick,” Molly interjects smoothly, as only she can, “would you mind getting us drinks? I’ll take a whiskey neat, and Elaine wants a Dirty Shirley.”
“Sure thing, Molly.” He’s still scowling, but, like most men, he does as Molly asks.
There are a million things for me to say, but I’ve got nothing. I basically flop onto the stool next to Molly and toss my head and arms in a heap on the table.
“What the hell happened, Elaine? I’ve been dying of curiosity since I got your text. Pick your head up and start talking, lovely.”
I summon the strength to sit up, and I fully intend to clue Molly in, but first, I have a question of my own. “First things first. You and Nick?!”
“Ha. Yea, that’s not happening. We were just talking. Don’t get me wrong, he’s hot as fuck, but there’s just no spark, you know?”
“Does he know that?”
“Most definitely. We’ve actually known each other for years. Remember Chase, that guy I dated for a little while a few summers ago? Played bass in an awful band, had a bunch of tattoos?”
I don’t, actually, but these poor guys all blend together, so I nod.
“Well, he interned at Nick’s shop for a hot minute. Turns out, he was much better at playing bass than at inking people’s skin. Which, really, is unfortunate. He was a terrible bassist. Anyway, I visited him there a few times and that’s how Nick and I became friends. And Nick just happened to be at the bar tonight, so I was catching up with him while I waited for you. Everybody else moved on to Mahady’s down the street.”
“You and Simon’s best friend have known each other for years? Small world.”
“Yep. I know everyone. And I’m related by marriage to half the town. It’s fascinating. We could sit here and play Six Degrees of Molly Randall for hours, but I’d much rather hear just what the hell happened tonight to put you in such a tizzy.”
