Sean left an hour ago, citing an early morning and Cara waiting for him in Bushwick. The bachelor party has stumbled out into the night. Even Bridget has clocked out, shooting me one last lingering look before disappearing through the back.
I’m the only one left with Tom wiping down the bar and Jhene collecting glasses from empty tables.
I push myself up from the booth and intercept her near the door.
“I’ll walk you home.”
She avoids looking at me. “You can go ahead without me. I’ll be here a while.”
“It’s past one a.m. The Bratva’s still out there. I’m walking you home.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“Go on, kid,” Tom pipes up. “I’ll handle the rest. You’ve been working hard enough for weeks now.”
Jhene almost scowls as if annoyed Tom’s sided with me, then she quickly disappears to the back to grab her things.
We bid goodnight to Tom, who’s too busy counting the register to do more than grunt in response. The street outside is quiet as we step out into the summer night air.
Jhene doesn’t say a word as we start walking.
Neither do I.
We keep it up the rest of the way home. Though it’s only a few blocks, it makes the walk feel twice as long. If I had any guess that she was upset with me before, I’m sure of it as we round the last block and come up on the apartment building.
Does she think Bridget and me were flirting? Did she see her hand on my arm and decide she didn’t like it? Why the hell would she care?
…unless it’s like Sean said, and we reallydoseem to have something going on.
But I’ve got no interest in Bridget. Not anymore.
Even the funny feeling in my stomach is gone whenever she’s around. When she touched me earlier tonight, I felt nothing.
I feltuninterested, as fucking bad of a case of blue balls as I’ve got. I didn’t take Bridget up on what seemed to be her suggestion.
We head up to the studio. The second the door’s unlocked, Jhene slips past me and starts gathering her change of clothes.
“I’m taking a shower,” she mutters.
Those are the only words she speaks before disappearing into the bathroom. A second later, the spray of the water ricochets off the tile walls.
I heave a disgruntled sigh and run fingers through my hair.
I’m still fucking hopeless with women. Always have been and probably always will be.
Their mood swings are confusing. One second things are fine. The next, they go silent without any warning.
Maybe it’s time to consult Maeve. She’s my baby sister, but she’s still awoman. That’s got to mean something, right?
I head over to the rollaway bed to set it up and turn in for the night.
I need to be up in four hours for training. Arealsession this time, not the half-assed workouts I’ve been phoning in for the past two weeks. The fight against The Tank is coming up fast, and I can’t afford to keep slacking off.
Dez is already on my ass about it, and he’s right to be.
My phone buzzes in my hand when I go to connect it to the wall charger.
At first, I ignore it. It’s late, I’m fuckingtired, and I don’t have the energy to deal with whatever fresh crisis is demanding my attention.
