Fuck, it’s like I aimed a shotgun at our fragile, broken relationship and pulled the trigger.
After this tournament is over, I’ll go back to our apartment and figure out some way to apologize. I’ll buy her every book off her Goodreads wishlist. I’ll get her Cameos from everyone onThe Vampire Diariescast. Fuck, I’ll even build Waffle a cat castle big enough to fill the whole living room if that’s what it takes.
My phone vibrates, and Pippa’s name appears on the screen. Even though I doubt she has anything nice to say to me right now, my stupid heart still leaps in my chest just reading her name. My hand shakes as I open my texts.
Pippa
I found an apartment. I’ll be out of your hair in a few days.
The hole in my chest is empty, and my heart is on the ground, writhing on the emerald carpet.
I thought I hit rock bottom before, but there was one final level to hit. Before, I was able to hold onto a dim hope that as long as Pippa is in my apartment, she won’t be lost to me. She’d soften eventually and forgive me.
Now, I can’t even pretend. The person who made me happier than anything—happier than poker, winning, laughing with the guys, happier than every other woman in the world combined—is gone. I let myself get close enough to taste what being with Pippa would be like, and now I have to live with knowing exactly what I lost.
I want another drink. I want toforget.
Instead, I choke down the rest of my Red Bull. Then I flag over a server. He looks like he’s barely twenty, his face covered in acne. I wonder if he’s the one I yelled at.
“Hey man, I’m sorry that I’ve been rude to the staff today,” I say awkwardly. “You can tell the other servers that I’ll make sure they’re paid double their rates, and a thousand-dollar tip on top of whatever the other players tip you.”
Confusion is written all over his face as he says, “Uh, thank you, Mr. Archer.” Guess he’s not the one I yelled at. I’ll have to ask Ria to point him out later.
“So when you get a minute, could you order me a grilled cheese and some fries from Terrace Steakhouse? There’s some whiskey I need to soak up.”
The server nods. “Of course. Right away.”
He hurries away, and I fill my own glass of water. It’s time to suck it up and save whatever I can of my reputation.
Without Pippa, I’ll need as many friends as I can get.
Four cards lieon the table.
I’ve got two pairs and a choice.
Do I throw the rest of my pathetic stack at winning this? Or stay, and let Arthur be the latest wound in my poker death by a thousand cuts?
My head swims. Thoughts that normally come automatically get tangled up in each other. Percentages bump up againstinstincts, memories of previous hands getting mixed up with the actual cards on the table.
I’ve done what I can to sober up, but no amount of coffees or grilled cheese sandwiches can make up for the time I’d need to work through an inhuman amount of whiskey.
I look up at Arthur’s placid face and decide the most dignified thing to do would be to put myself out of my misery. I shove the rest of my chips forward and pray that Arthur calls.
He does.
The dealer turns the river, and for a brief moment I live in the hope that it’ll turn my two pair into a more attractive full house.
It doesn’t. Arthur shows his own two pair, and it’s higher than mine. I give him the closest thing I can to a smile at the moment, considering how shitty I feel.
“Good game, Arthur.”
He nods, his attention already on the next hand—just like mine would be at any other tournament. Nobody pays much attention when I push away from the table and head toward the crowd at the bar.
Ria’s there, chatting with Miguel. Her sunglasses are tucked in her purse, so I know she’s out, too.
“Thanks,” I murmur to her. “I needed that.”
“You wanna stay for a bit?” she asks. “Have another Red Bull and play host?”
