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“Are you going to deny seeing my text?”
“No,” he answers, staring in my eyes.
“Okay, so what gives? My sister set me up with Curtis, and unlike you inviting that twit to my sister’s party, this isn’t meant to make you jealous.”
I won’t add that after meeting up with Curtis, this is all show. I’ll keep that part to myself, for now.
“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”
He slides out of the booth, passing Curtis on his way back to me, but I’m able to see there’s a short exchange between them.
Curtis hands me a pale ale and brings his beer to his lips. “So, what did I miss?” he asks.
“Not much. What did he say to you?”
“He called me a fucking asshole, and I called him fucking stupid, so there’s that.”
I laugh, because at the age of forty, I thought I was past these games, and I realize I’m not going to let Dom ruin my night. I may not be over him or ready to move on with Curtis, but we can still enjoy dinner together.
“How about this?” I ask, placing my beer down in front of us. “Why don’t we go out for dinner, and if the asshole doesn’t realize what’s in front of him, maybe in a month we can try again?”
He likes my suggestion and scoots out of the booth and reaches for my hand. “Sounds like a plan to me.” He tosses a twenty on the table. Hand in hand, we pass by Dom and his friend, and I don’t look his way, though I can feel his eyes on me like a laser.
five
DOMINIC
She walks past me without looking my way, but that fucking tool she’s with widens his smirk, staring at me and fucking winks. I have this overwhelming urge to break him in half.
“You know whose fault this is, right?” Bodhi asks, taking a swig of his milk stout, waiting for my answer. I don’t answer.
He snickers, but there’s nothing funny about this situation. “Okay, so it looks like you’re being mature about this, Dom. Good to know.”
I ignore him but he’s not done. “She’s what, ten years older than you?”
I answer with a curt nod.
“First off, it’s a proven fact women are more mature than men. Add in the age gap, and she probably is over the childish attitude. Maybe you should share your fucked-up past. She seemed to look at you with those same longing eyes as you look at her.”
Could he shut up for one second? And maybe not be correct at the same time?
He’s not done. Fuck. He’ll compare my situation to his. And he’ll drone on, all the while, making an excellent as fuck point. “You get one shot, if you’re lucky. She may be your soul mate. I never believed in it, untilI lost my soul mate.”
I say nothing.
“Fuck, you’re proving my point—being an immature, punk-ass bitch about the whole thing, Dom.”
I shoot back, because I have plenty of ammunition. “And you’re pining for your ex-wife, as she’s moving on, so in my book, you don’t have much room to stand.”
There’s this invisible line, and with Bo and me, we sometimes teeter on it from time to time, but I didn’t just cross the line, I ran past it while throwing rocks at him. The mention of Clara, his ex-wife, is a low blow, even for me.
Bo pushes from the table and tosses down a couple ten-dollar bills. “Then learn from my fucked-up mistakes, asshole. Don’t repeat them. And by the way, that was a low blow, even for you.”
He leaves me in my misery, and he’s not wrong. I crossed the line with him, but more so, I’m letting go of a good thing. Sandra dominates my thoughts. So, what if I have baggage, courtesy of my fucked-up folks? I can’t hold onto it, because they’ll win, and I never want those motherfuckers to win.
I do the only thing I know to do and leave the bar. I’ll wait for Sandra, even if I wait until the morning. The thought fucks with me, because if she’s not home until morning, the reason will be clear, and the idea makes me blind with rage.
I’ve become a bonafide stalker.When did I go from a respected businessman to a person who hangs around an apartment building, waiting for a girl?
