I’m pretty sure it’s K-pop.
Hard to tell for sure with the Sabrina Carpenter singalong going on in the bar behind me. The bachelorette party is back.
Somehow, not nearly as entertaining without their ringleader.
Who I haven’t stopped thinking about for a single moment of the damn day.
When Sierra Daniels walked into my bar yesterday, the very last fucking thing I was expecting was to meet, or like, someone new. But it’s been a really fucking rough year. And maybe I let my guard down too fast.
Maybe that’s what I’m most angry about.
That she made me start to feel something for the first time in fuckingyears.
Ever since my wedding day.
I haven’t thought about it in so long because I don’t want to. I don’t need to.
But not only did Sierra make my heart race, make mewantagain in a way I hadn’t thought I could, she made me fuckingremember...
Everything that comes on the heels of that kind of wanting.
The heartbreak.
The days and weeks and fucking months of struggling to get over something that you were so sure about—but turned out to be so dead wrong about.
I will never, ever let myself make that mistake again.
The fact that I could feel so drawn to someone I just met and then be so spun around when she turned outnotto be what I thought she was—all in less than twenty-four hours—has me shaken to the core.
I don’t need this. I really don’t need these fucking feelings coming at me faster than I can handle them, out of fucking nowhere.
But at least now I know: June Spencer plays fucking dirty. Grandpa tried to warn me, but now I’ve learned. The woman is not to be trusted.
Just because my parents trusted her doesn’t mean they were right.
All it means is that they were conned.
I make my decision as I’m crossing the street, and I walk into Pier Seven without knocking.
Sierra is inside with her tattooed employee. Just the two of them, dancing their asses off and singing along to the incredibly loud music that is definitely some girly, hip-hop-infused K-pop, in the middle of Sierra’s nauseatingly adorable pop-up shop. The walls of my family’s former restaurant are now decked out in signage, neon lights, and temporary decals for Cutie Fruitie smoothies. Multicolored cartoon fruits smile at me from every direction.
But I barely notice any of it.
Unfortunately, when my eyes lock onto Sierra, my pulse races. Just like it did earlier, in my office, and every other time I’ve been near her.
It only gets worse when she looks at me. She notices me standing here and stops dead.
I cantasteher. Feel her against my body. Last night, outside the bar. And in bed.
I can hear her laughter, feel her heart beating against my skin.
And I just need it to stop.
Her employee turns down the incredibly loud music as Sierra just stares at me.
Then she says, confused, “We’re not open until Wednesday,” as if I actually might’ve wandered in here for a smoothie.
I take a few more steps toward her, until we’re standing close. Her eyes widen as she holds my gaze.
