Me:No and hell yes.In that order.Plus we can start wedding planning.
Auds:I only just got engaged, there’s plenty of time
Me:Only because you haven’t set a date yet!Also, not taking no for an answer
Auds:Fine.See you tonight.Take it easy on the new guy.
Easy.Hah.Right.
Devon nudged my shoulder.
“How are things with Hannah?”
I smiled; my girlfriend was a much better topic of conversation.“Good.She wants me to meet her parents.”
“Wow.Big step.Are you nervous?”
“I think Hannah is more nervous than I am.”
“Are you the first girlfriend to meet them?”
“No, that’s what’s strange.She’s been dating girls for years, but for some reason, she’s worried.”I’d tried to get Hannah to explain why last night, but she’d shrugged and changed the subject.
“Maybe because it’s more serious this time?”
And that thought shouldn’t be as worrying as it was.Because, while we’d been dating for four months now, would I call us “serious?”It was the longest relationship I’d been in for, shit, too long, and I cared for Hannah, but … But.
I couldn’t even pinpoint exactly what was stopping me from taking the next step.Hannah was gorgeous, we had a healthy sex life, and she’d been comfortable from the start about taking it slow (though that hadn’t stopped her joking that it went against lesbian law not to be living together already).
I liked her.A lot.We’d connected from the moment we’d met.Hannah was energetic, ambitious, with a sharp mind and a penchant for art and history.When we’d first started dating, we could lose hours in each other (fucking or talking), just enjoying each other’s company.
Yes, it wasn’t always easy to make it work (between my nights tending bar and her day job, our hours didn’t always line up), and Hannah could occasionally be unintentionally selfish, but she respected my independence, and there was more good than bad.
Still, something was holding me back.
Audrey had given me the same advice I’d given her barely a year ago when she had similar concerns about her “situationship” with Jackson (“It’s a leap of faith, Tiff”), but recklessly throwing myself into things had never been my issue (just ask my mama).
“Hey,” I said, changing the subject, “have you seen Riley yet?”
Indicating no with a shake of his head, Devon pointed to the bar.“I’m going to restock the speed rack.Is there anything else you need me to do?”
The ice would need to be replenished, but I’d rather wait until opening to do that.“Nothing that can’t wait until tonight.”
As I watched the others enter and exit the back office for their chats with Sam, I shot off a text to Riley to remind her of the meeting this morning.She’d become increasingly unreliable of late, constantly swapping shifts behind my back or showing up late.I was close to firing her.
Shit.Would I still be able to if it came to that?Smug Sam (and didn’t that have a nice ring to it) had made it obvious that he was in charge now (but maybe he’d like to whip it out and piss on everything just to make it really clear), so I could only imagine he wouldn’t love the idea of me giving anyone the boot, no matter how deserving they were.
Great.
Although … It might be nice not to have to deal with the fiddly admin stuff for a change.Let his royal smugness fight with everyone over penalty rates and tip allocation and getting nights off for their cousin’s dog’s birthday or whatever.
And … Ok.If I was going to be totally honest, I was starting to feel that itch.The one that prickled under my skin anytime I’d been in a routine for too long.And the last four and half years?That was a new record for me.Lately, I’d started to wonder, what next?I felt the familiar buzz of adrenaline when I pictured leaving to throw myself into something new.
And secretly (extremely secretly), I had hoped I could use the change in ownership as an excuse.Maybe it was the perfect time to move on.
Yeah, well, after meeting “sir asshole,” there was a fat fucking chance of that happening.Even if it was time, there was no way in frozen hell I was going to leave my bar, my friends, in the hands of this douche.
By the time it was down to Devon and me, I had decided on a few things.One, we needed a coffee machine in this godforsaken bar (was lack of caffeine a medical problem?).Two, Riley’s continued ignorance of both my text and this meeting had broken my last straw.And three, if Sir Smuggington the Third wanted to try my patience, he had absolutely achieved his goal.
Devon left with a short wave, leaving just me and the asshole.Like I was waiting to be summoned into the principal’s office.Which was ridiculous.I knew my worth to this bar.He would have to be out of his mind to get rid of me.But I couldn’t stop the flare of panic that lapped at my brain.My short nails began to tap rhythmically on the bar top.
What was he waiting for?An invitation?
Actually, what was I waiting for?
I walked across the empty space to his office, rapping a quick one-two on his open door (my mama gave me manners) but not waiting for a response before I entered and sat down (manners only went so far when you were dealing with a smug son of a bitch).
