She smiles. “I know. That’s why I came here to wait. I didn’t want to interrupt her.”
Interesting. I wonder if this is the woman Birdie used to nanny for. I can’t remember her saying what her name was, but there was awoman she looked after for years, and she is like family to her. In the past, this woman has come to visit, but I’ve never met her.
Until now.
The bachelorette party pulls Silvie up a few minutes later for dancing. Which she does, because she’s had at least three drinks in her at this point. She’s barefoot, having lost her shoes since she got here, that ridiculous dress swishing, and she’s laughing. Something tells me that she wouldn’t have had this much fun at her wedding.
At least she doesn’t look like she’s about to cry at any second.
I don’t look away as she sways to the music. When she spins a little too hard and stumbles, I’m already moving closer, just in case. She steadies herself and throws me a thumbs’-up as if she knows I’m watching.
I chuckle because she’s certainly keeping me entertained. I move behind the bar, pull out my phone, and step away to make a call.
Birdie answers on the third ring, and I can hear bingo going on in the background. “Cal?”
“It’s me, Birdie. I just wanted you to know that Silvie’s here and I’ll get her home...when she’s done.”
There’s a pause, and a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I was worried when she didn’t call.”
I look back at the dance floor at the way she’s dancing and laughing with strangers. “Yeah, she’s okay.”
Hours pass. Silvie drinks slower than when she first arrived. Laughs at the right moments, though I still sense underlying pain. She never flirts or dances with any guys which is to be expected. Just listens and participates in conversation with the bridal party.
It’s last call, and the bachelorette party is long gone. Silvie is alone at the bar, opening and closing her umbrella that was in her drink as if she’s pondering all of her life’s choices.
“Cal.”
I set down the glasses and look over. “Yes, Silvie?”
Her lips twitch when I say her name, like she enjoys hearing it from me. Honestly, I like saying it.
“I don’t know how to get home,” she admits, overwhelm chasing away her buzz as reality sinks in. Her eyebrows are pinched with worry.
“I already called Birdie,” I assure her. “She knows I’ll bring you home.”
She sighs with relief. “Thank you. I needed this.”
“Needed what?”
She gives me a sad, half-smile. “Someone to be nice to me.”
A flash of irritation burns through me. Not at her. No, I’m lowkey pissed at the guy who did this to her. I’m not looking to swoop in and be her knight in shining armor, but it’s hard not to want to save this damsel in distress. Even I’m not immune and that’s saying something.
We finish up closing, and I walk Marina to her car. She glances back at the bar where Silvie is waiting for me. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing with that one?”
I shake my head. “She’s Birdie’s. Just getting her home safe.”
She snorts. “Birdie would kill you if anything happened to her. The Bees would all help her bury your body somewhere.”
“No doubt,” I say as I wave.
I make my way back to Silvie, who’s barely keeping herself upright on her barstool. “Are you ready?”
She looks at me with an absolutely gut-wrenching face. Fat tears well in her eyes and her features begin to crumple. She’s had too much to drink. No matter how many waters I supplied her with or how many plates of fries, nachos, and snacks I brought her, she still took shots with the bachelorette party, and she’s about to either lose her shit or her cookies. Neither will be pretty.
Her breaths come out sharp and uneven as her eyes frantically dart all around her. A whine of pure desperation claws its way out of her. I’m momentarily paralyzed because she’s unravelling quickly and I don’t know what to do.
“I need to get out of this dress,” she says, breath hitching. One of the tears race down her cheek. “Before I lose my mind.”
