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"It's Sunday, Cam."
She sounds confused. "Oh, I guess it is. Greg just came back from Australia and he's got me thinking it's Monday already. Are you sure he wouldn't see you on a weekend? Don't you pay him enough?"
I laugh bitterly. "Yeah I think I probably do. But," my words feel like they are stuck in my throat....
Cammy understands at once. "But you can't come here."
"No."
I hear the phone rustling, hurried conversation, and I groan inwardly. Then Cammy's voice returns. "Send Benson. We'll be at the airport in a half an hour."
"You don't have to..."
"Shut up," she says, so sweetly I have to smile. "You haven't seen Greg in forever anyway. He was just saying how he's dying for a swim. We're coming out to be with you. And no one is firing anyone until you look me in the eye and say that's what you want. Got it?"
She sounds so much like my mother that I can only nod, the naughty little boy being disciplined. "Got it," I echo, hanging up the phone. Then I turn and hurl it as hard as I can into the bed. But the anger isn't there anymore. The paranoia has receded and in its wake it leaves only heavy sadness.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sanniyah
"Why are the table cloths yellow?!" The bride is shrieking louder than her uncle's bad band.
Inwardly I am dying of shame, but outwardly I smile, poised and reassuring. "I'll take care of it right away," I tell her, mentally chastising myself for allowing the venue to put out the ecru table settings instead of the white ones. I am distracted, my mind still insisting on going back to Carter's house, Carter's eyes, Carter's bed. Carter's face as he watches me walk to the helicopter. It seemed like I was walking for miles.
Shaking my head, at myself, I head back to the kitchen to raise hell with the waiters.
Once the table cloth emergency is fixed, I fade to the background. I have to force myself to drag my mind back to where I am every three or four minutes. The disappointment and coldness in Carter's eyes has done something strange to me. I feel the need to talk about it bubble to my lips.
"Can I get you anything?" The bartender is a pretty, punky looking white girl who doesn't look old enough to be serving drinks. Her neon pink hair is caught back in a neat, professional bun, and she is dressed in the black suit and tie of the country club staff, but I can tell at a glance that her preferred uniform is tattered fishnets and eyeliner.
"Something weak enough that I can pretend I'm not drinking, but strong enough to feel it?" I say, feeling sheepish.
She nods briskly. "I make this for myself," she confides, pouring deftly. Then her eyes go wide. "Oh shit, please don't say anything to my boss."
I have to laugh. "Please don't say anything to my bride," I answer, raising the glass she hands me. "Cheers."
"What are we toasting?" she smiles.
I think for a moment. "Being an idiot?"
"Ha! Yeah I will definitely drink to that." She gulps a hurried beer, then moves over to another sloshed uncle of the bride who is taking full advantage of the open bar. I lean on a stool and contemplate what I have just said.
Why did I say that? I made the decision to leave Carter's because I thought it was the smartest thing to do. Sleeping with my bride's brother was never part of the plan, and sleeping with a man like Carter Easton was a distraction I didn't need right now. I was poised to break into the big time. I didn't have time for a relationship.
Fuck, where did that come from? A relationship?
"You okay over here?" The punky bartender is eyeing me with some concern and I realize I must be mumbling to myself.
Hastily, I straighten up. "You know what, I'm not really sure what I am."
"You want to talk about it?" She shoots me a smile. "I'm a bartender, I listen to people's problems and then they tip me well. It's sorta how this whole thing works."
I laugh and extend my hand. "Sanniyah."
She takes it like a queen receiving a commoner, then laughs at herself. "Kat," she replies with a huff and roll of her black-rimmed eyes.
"Kat, well, I don't know what to say except," I think for a second, then it comes to me. "I don't know why I called myself an idiot just now. I think I made the right decision, no, scratch that, I know I did. But if I did, why does it feel so hard and hollow?"
"What did you decide?"
I grimace. "Not to have the sexiest man I have ever laid eyes on make me breakfast."
"Oof," she says sympathetically. "That's a tough one. Why didn't he?"
"Because I left as soon as I woke up."
"Why did you leave?"
"Because he's the brother of a client and sleeping with him was probably the worst thing I could have ever done."
Kat widens her eyes even further. "Are you like, married something?"
"What? No!
"Oh." She looks confused.
"Why did you ask?"
She shrugs dramatically. "I dunno, the way you're talking, I thought you were like, married with kids and this was some fling you had. If you're single and so is he, what's the problem?"
I huff. "The problem is that it's unprofessional!"
"You like him?"
"Yeah." Saying it out loud fills me with a desperate little thrill.
"And I'm going to go out on a limb here and say he likes you too, right?" She wiggles her eyebrows. "Men are usually pretty fucked up, in my opinion. But he'd have to be blind not to like you, you're absolutely gorgeous."
"Thank you," I smile at her.
"Did he tell you you're gorgeous?"
I think back, flushing down in my core. "Multiple times."
"Well then," Kat slaps her hands together like this is a done deal. "I honestly can't figure out why you think you have a problem, so I am using my power as a bartender to say that you don't. I have that power, you know. It's in the handbook or something."
"Oh yeah?" I might be getting a little more drunk than I intended, because she's making me giggle. "Is it a secret handbook?"
"Well of course it is. You can't see it, they'd take away my powers and I'd be a mere mortal again. But, I can at least do this." She lifts her hands in a dramatic gesture of blessing. "By the power invested in me by the state of alcoholism, I hereby absolve you of your guilt. Go forth and have breakfast with the sexy guy.
I burst out laughing. "Thank you!" I lean sloppily against the bar. "I wish it was that easy, but it's not. It's not actually that easy."
"Sure it is."
Kat claps her hands together again, but the humor of the moment drains quickly away the more I think about it. My smile fades as I realize, "No, it actually isn't." I'm shaking my head back and forth like a metronome. "I didn't exactly leave him on the best terms."
Kat huffs dramatically, clearly annoyed with my drunken hemming and hawing. "So call him and say you're sorry!" she explodes. Gesturing to my drink, she wiggles her eyebrows. "I could make you a few more of those, if you need some liquid courage. "
I waver and glance down at my now empty glass. My heart is raci
ng. Just call him, huh? All I have to do is swallow my pride and call Carter. No big deal, right? Just apologize for losing my shit and hope that he's not as angry as he looked on the helipad. Then I just have to somehow manage to keep business and pleasure from mixing too much and also hope that Camilla isn't thoroughly disgusted by my actions while at the same time keeping my brand and business moving forward on the track I had been planning out for years while also being a good daughter to my dying stepfather who I haven't visited yet....
