12
Sam
The ache in my shoulder had intensified.I intended to get it seen to, but I hadn’t yet made the time.I’d been hoping that the thirty minutes of yoga I started every day with would be enough to keep the pain at a minimum.
That strategy had worked before, but I’d been working a lot harder in the last few weeks than I had in a long time.
I dug my fingers into the crook of my neck and massaged at the tightest spot, wincing at the pressure.
I’d have to see someone if I wanted to keep working behind the bar.
A smarter man would take it as a sign to stop messing about and get back into the office where I belonged, but I genuinely enjoyed getting my hands dirty again.It reminded me of my earliest days behind the bar and all the reasons that I’d wanted to own my own place.
It also meant more time getting to know the staff.
Now that it had been a few weeks, I’d gotten to know each of them, and I was glad to say that we now felt like a cohesive team.They’d gotten used to me helping out behind the bar and were, with one exception, warm and open.Devon was a godsend.He absolutely deserved the raise I’d given him.
And while no one specifically made a comment to my face, I’d heard them fondly teasing Tiffany about our disagreements.While I could have done without the gossip, I’d missed this sense of family.I’d forgotten what it felt like.
Gossip, of course, also had its benefits.
For example, there didn’t seem to be a member of the staff, minus the new additions, that Tiffany hadn’t helped in some shape or form.For Devon, it was helping him move; Nathan said she was always the first to take on extra shifts, and Hallie had mentioned a princess costume situation at her kid’s birthday.
My first instinct, sadly, was to believe that her favors were intentional.A ploy to get the staff on her side.It was a trick I’d seen used in the past.But the more likely, and more difficult to accept, reason appeared to be that Tiffany was a kind and generous person.It added another dimension to her that I couldn’t unsee.
The only saving grace was that, while my own feelings were distressing, Tiffany clearly couldn’t stand me.I was glad one of us was smart.
As the coffee pot brewed for the second time this morning, I eyed the large manila envelope on the counter.It had arrived yesterday, but I hadn’t had the energy to deal with it.
Ripping open the envelope—and the bandaid—I supposed, I skimmed the paperwork inside, confirming that all the required signatures were there, waiting for my own to join them.Piper had obviously gotten sick of delaying the inevitable.
So, this was it.
The last nine years of my life diluted down to a thumbs breadth of paper.
My bars, my work, my damned name.All signed away to my ex.
For a minute, I stood still in my kitchen, contracts in hand, waiting for the familiar burst of anger to erupt in my gut, seep into my bones.
But it never happened.
On a deep breath, I realized I might have reached the end of my resentment for this whole mess.
The hurt remained, but the hurt I could deal with.Live with.
Although, that would be easier to do if I no longer had to deal with Piper.As her name popped up on my cell screen, I briefly cursed.“Hello?”
“Hi, Sam.”
Her voice was molasses, thickly sweet.I hated the memories that surfaced at the sound, late nights of her curled around me in bed; mornings spent discussing ideas for marketing campaigns or promotions.Not that long ago, I’d had everything I wanted.Now, I had next to nothing.“Piper.”
“You could at least pretend to be happy to hear from me.”Why?I wanted to ask.I would have, a month ago.I would have used the excuse to fight with her.Now, I was too tired to bother.
“What is this about?”
“I wanted to make sure you got the papers.I sent them days ago.”Of course, that was why she’d called.She’d taken weeks to get them to me and then barely waited twenty-four hours before needling me to have them signed.
“Okay.Was there anything else?”
