Hey, it’s Holly! Leave a message and I’ll call you back.
Her voice—bright, effortless, full of life—twisted the knife that already lodged itself in my chest. My throat tightened. I couldn’t bring myself to leave a message. Instead, I stared at the screen until the call disconnected and the home screen stared back at me.
She ignored me.
If the call hadn’t gone through at all, I could’ve convinced myself her phone was dead or turned off. But to ignore me… That hurt more than I wanted to admit. I sank onto the couch, the ache in my chest sharpening with every passing second.
Last night felt so real. She’d been there, in my arms, looking at me like she finally wanted the same thing I did. Like she was ready to give us a chance.
God, I’d thought this time was different.
I glanced at the clock—7 a.m. Maybe it was too early. Maybe she had a full day ahead of her, meetings or deadlines she couldn’t ignore. That had to be it. She just needed space.
But even as I tried to rationalize it, I couldn’t stop myself. I opened my messages and typed out a quick text.
Morning. Everything okay?
I hit send and set the phone down, watching it like it might grow legs and run. The seconds dragged into minutes, then stretched into an hour. Still nothing. I paced the living room, my movements restless and aimless. Stopping at the window, I looked down at the street below. The city was waking up. People bustled to work, taxis honked impatiently, and life carried on as if my entire world hadn’t just been turned upside down.
By lunchtime, I couldn’t take it anymore. I sent another message.
Do you want to grab dinner tonight?
I didn’t expect an answer—not right away—but a part of me clung to the hope that she’d reply eventually. Hours passed. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the room. The silence from my phone felt deafening.
It was almost eight by the time I gave up staring at the screen. I leaned against the window, defeated, and pressed my forehead to the cool glass. The faint trace of Holly’s perfume still lingered on my shirt, cruel and comforting all at once.
I sank back onto the couch, exhaustion pulling at me, but I couldn’t let go of yesterday. Not yet. Maybe it was ridiculous. Maybe I was just fooling myself. But there was this irrational part of me that believed if I held on a little longer, if I waited just a bit more, she’d come back.
But as the hours dragged into the night, a heavier thought settled over me, suffocating and inescapable.
Maybe last night was all I’d get.
Maybe running into her on St. Patrick’s Day wasn’t fate giving us another chance.
Maybe it was just a cruel coincidence.
And maybe—just maybe—it was time to stop chasing someone who didn’t want to be caught.
LIAM
Three nights later, four of my employees and I gathered in my kitchen. I could feel their eyes on me, each gaze a mixture of expectation, worry, and curiosity. I’d never called a meeting like this before. It had always been the whole team or me and the managers. Not this hodgepodge mix of two bartenders, a bouncer, and a line cook. And never at my house.
Amber leaned forward, her dark hair slipping over one shoulder as she traced the rim of her glass absentmindedly. Ralph sat beside her tapping a steady, rhythmic beat that highlighted his impatience. Cam leaned back in my living room chair, arms crossed, his ever-present smirk masking whatever he was really thinking and, across from him, Mara watched me closely, waiting for me to start the meeting.
I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the heaviness that wore on me like an oversized coat. The ache of Holly’s rejection was still raw and painful. I had hoped the feeling would ease overtime, but each day the suffocating sensation only got worse. I knew how I sounded. We weren’t anything serious—friends with the prospect of more—but the hole she left in me was as deep as the ones left by every girl who’d broken my heartbefore her. Possibly worse. The pain made no sense, but it didn’t matter. Logic rarely played a role in heartbreak.
“There’s no way I can save Abbott’s,” I started. Each word felt like a bitter confession as it left my lips. At this point, I’d be wasting my time trying to win the bet because the only person I wanted to be with didn’t want me. I was a mess emotionally—and judging by the way Amber had wrinkled her nose at me… twice—I looked just as bad as I felt. I caught my reflection in the window: rumpled clothes, shadows under my eyes, and the unmistakable weariness of someone who’d lost too many hours of sleep. I looked like the ghost of the man I used to be, a sorry consolation prize for any wife, even if she were only in it for the money.
Silence hung heavy in the room. My friends stared back at me with the same haunting expression I’d run from my whole life. Disappointment.
“But,” I continued, meeting their eyes one by one, “I can start something new. People don’t love Abbott’s because of the games or the decor. They love it because of us—what we’ve built.”
“And the location,” Cam muttered, earning a sharpshhhfrom Mara. He was a ball-buster with good intentions—usually. Today, though, he just wanted to poke the bear, and I wasn’t biting.
“We can find another spot.” My grip tightened around the edge of the counter. I needed them to believe in my plan. Together we could do this. Was Abbott’s in a prime part of town? Yes, but location was second to the people who brought the place to life. Without my team, I’d fail in the first year. “Abetterspot.”
Amber tilted her head, her expression softening as her dark eyes searched mine. “What happened with Holly?” she asked quietly. “You two seemed to really hit it off.”
