It was the wrong thing to say.Whatever lightness was there before fell flat, and I couldn’t take seeing her like that for another minute.I needed to know.
“What’s wrong?”
I wasn’t entirely sure she was going to answer.Instead, I was half-convinced she was going to put her glass down and walk out without another word.But I hoped she didn’t.I avoided acknowledging why.
She finished the last of her whiskey in one long gulp, setting the tumbler down on the oak coffee table.“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Yes.”It was an answer that felt too telling.
“My girlfriend and I broke up.It wasn’t pretty.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”So, what I’d heard was correct.She’d been in a relationship.I’d been such an asshole.
“It’s fine.Or it will be.Once I finish wallowing.”
Even considering my own recent relationship disaster, I hardly felt like an expert, and I couldn’t imagine any advice worthy of giving her.How could I offer anything when I had nothing but romantic failure in my past?
“Were you together long?”
“Four months, give or take.Which is nothing as far as most relationships go, but it’s the longest one I’ve had in a while.”
“Were you in love?”I shouldn’t have asked that.I didn’t know why I was asking, and from the widening of her eyes, it was clear she didn’t know either.
“No.”A self-deprecating laugh sprung forth.“I know.I look like someone who’s had their heartbroken, but that’s not really the reason I’m taking it badly.”
“Then, why?”
Before answering, she picked up her glass and reached over for mine, “Another?”It was a distraction technique, but considering how strained her smiles still were, I didn’t call it out.
I nodded, watching as she walked over to where the bottle sat, nestled in a curated collection on my bar trolley.There was no hesitation to her actions, moving comfortably among my belongings as if this was something we did often.
The music changed to something somber, a rich timbre voice and a lone piano.
She only spoke again once our drinks were in hand and she’d sunk back into the couch.There was a deliberateness to her expression, but she’d tucked her legs underneath her in her usual style, and I took that as a good sign.“I’m beginning to wonder whether I’m better off being single.”
“I’m sure that’s just the breakup talking.”
She shook her head.“That’s experience talking.”She sighed heavily and leaned forward, elbows resting on her arms.I realized, belatedly, that there was a tattoo hiding on the inside of her bicep, something typically hidden under the shirt she wore for work.I saw fine lines connected by something I couldn’t quite make out.I wanted, more than anything, to be able to ask.
“I’m sure you’ve heard by now that I date both men and women.”
“I don’t make it a habit of digging into my employees' lives.”It was an obvious non-answer.
“Cut the crap.I know what working at a bar is like.We gossip more than a 10 a.m.talk show.”
“I may have overheard that piece of information, yes.”I then made an assumption that I hoped I wasn’t wrong about.“I take it your girlfriend had an issue with that?”
She let out a cold, harsh bark of a laugh.“Among other things.For someone who dated me for four months, she sure didn’t like me much.”
“That’s bullshit.If that’s true, you’re better off without her.”
Her lips curled into a smile.Then, her entire expression shifted into confusion.“For someone who hates me, you’re being awfully nice.”
“I don’t hate you.”I could tell she didn’t believe me, which seemed reasonable based on our interactions to date.Unfortunately, the truth was more dangerous than that.I’d been curious about Tiffany from the moment I’d met her—probably before that—and it had only gotten worse the more I got to know her.Seeing her like this, placid and vulnerable, made me want to know every side of her.
Clearing my throat, I shoved those thoughts aside.They wouldn’t do either of us any good.“Do you want to talk about it?”
A pair of guitars danced around a chord progression in the background, building in a playful staccato.My pulse matched the pace as I waited for Tiffany’s answer.
