She holds up her hands."Alright, alright.Touchy today, are we?"
"Just tired."
"Right."She doesn't believe me.I can see it in her eyes.But she lets it drop and turns back to the customer."There you go, love.Enjoy."
I take my place at the other end of the bar and start serving.The routine's comforting as I pull pints, pour whiskey, take orders,smile, chat, and pretend everything's grand.
But I'm jumpy, and I can't focus.Every time the door opens, my heart stutters as I half-expect to see Tank walk through.
He doesn't.
Of course he doesn't.Why would he?I kicked him out.Told him to leave.He's not stupid enough to come back.
But part of me, a small, pathetic part, wishes he would.Wishes he'd walk in, look at me with those dark eyes, and apologize properly.Explain.Make me understand.
Except there's nothing to understand.He called me someone else's name during sex.End of story.
"Enya."
I jump, nearly dropping the glass I'm holding.Ciara's staring at me, concerned now.
"What?"
"I asked if you could grab more limes from the back."
"Oh.Yeah.Sure."
I set the glass down and head to the storage room.I stand there for a minute in the cool dark, hands pressed to my face.
Get it together.
I grab the limes and head back out.The afternoon drags.I serve drinks, clean glasses, and wipe down the bar top.Go through the motions.
But my mind's elsewhere.Back in my flat.Back in that moment when everything shattered.
Emma.
Who the fuck is Emma?
"So," Ciara says during a lull, leaning against the bar beside me."You gonna tell me what happened with Tank?"
My stomach drops."Nothing happened."
"Shite.You left with him.I saw."
"And I came back alone.That's the end of it."
She studies me, eyes narrowed."Did he hurt you?Because if he did, I swear to Christ?—"
"No."The word comes out sharp."He didn't hurt me.Just...it didn't work out.That's all."
"But you liked him."
"I barely knew him."
"But you liked him," she repeats.
I turn away and start reorganizing bottles that don't need organizing."Doesn't matter.It's done."
