He drew in a slow breath that stretched the fabric of his Leon Boss dress shirt over his muscular chest. A woman wiggled past on her way to the lady’s room, dark-lined eyes narrowing as she picked up the vibes between us.
“Here you are! Come on, baby, the rest of us are preparing to leave.” She grabbed my arm and then tugged, sliding in to curl into my side as if we were together. Leon snorted. He knew full well I wasn’t here with this pretty brunette with the big blue eyes, but he was smart enough to not act up in front of witnesses.
“It’s been a pleasure running into you again,” Leon purred, his sight locked on me as if the young woman wasn’t even here. “I expect to hear from you within a week pertaining to my property. I’ve been more than patient with you abouttheirreturn, but if I do not have them in my possession by Friday at five p.m., or have the appropriate financial restitution, I will press charges, and wewillrehash our depressing relationship in court. What would come out would make Depp versus Heard look like a preschool sandbox spat. Wonder what the Storm would think of having all that hit the papers?”
He left us then, striding off to rejoin some pretentious group of friends. I watched him climb the circular stairs with a dull horror slowly starting to grow in my breast. If he sued me, then our sex lives, and much more, would be out there for public consumption. The Storm was very supportive of their queer players, but they wouldn’t want me to be featured in a gay love story gone horribly wrong. I’d have to recount all the terrible things he’d said to me in front of a judge and jury and?—
“You’re trembling.” I looked down at the little thing grasping my arm. What a brave woman she was. “I hope what I did was okay. I know that tone and the expression he was wearing. I’ve dated a few assholes like him. Was it cool that I stepped in?”
“Yeah, that was incredibly cool. Thank you. What’s your name?”
“Lydia Lawrence. I know who you are. My boyfriend loves the Storm.”
“This Sunday, bring your boyfriend to the game on me. I’ll leave some tickets at Will Call for Lydia-the-brave Lawrence.”
Her eyes rounded. “Oh wow, that would be great! Thank you so much, Craig.” She rose to her toes to peck my cheek before releasing my arm. “Do you want me to escort you back to your table?”
“No, you go to powder your nose. I’ll be fine.”
She seemed unsure but then dashed off to the ladies’ room. I shook off the encounter the best I could before returning to our table. Apparently, my powers of disguise were lacking. As soon as I sat down, Jamie glanced at me, and the soft smile he’d been wearing turned into a look of concern.
“You look upset. Did you not get into the men’s room?”
“No, I never did get in. A huge pile of shit met me at the door.” His brow wrinkled in confusion. “Can we go? I need to get out of here.”
I stepped out into the clammy night, drew in a shuddery breath, and waited for Jamie to exit after settling our tab. What I would say to him I had no clue…
Chapter Thirteen
Jamie
The night had a laid-back vibe,with jazz music weaving through the air, until Craig’s mood took a sudden nosedive. When he came back to our table, I could tell something was off. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and he avoided looking directly at me as he said he wanted to leave. Had someone said something to upset him? Someone at this table? I couldn’t recall anyone being rude, but sometimes the subtle nuances of communication went straight over my head. I settled our tab, still trying to figure out what might have turned his evening sour so quickly.
Had I done something wrong?
He said he’d run into a huge pile of shit, and his voice had been tinged with frustration and a hint of anger, uncomfortable. Whatever, I was happy to back him up if he needed to leave, and it was convenient enough to get us out without a fuss.
As I stepped out into the night, the cool air felt unusually sharp, cutting through the humidity that had settled over the city. The streets were dimly lit, with an occasional street lamp casting long shadows on the pavement. The usual buzz of the city felt subdued, almost like Craig’s mood when I found him standing a few feet away from the jazz club’s doorway, takingdeep, shaky breaths. The evening had turned, and now there was a tension in him, a sign he was trying to regain composure, and it hurt to think that maybe he was regretting coming with me. I hesitated, giving him space to breathe, while my mind raced with worries about what had upset him so much.
Under the late evening sky, which was a deep indigo with only a few stars peeking through, my skin felt too tight.
“Okay?” I asked, which was stupid because he was obviously not okay.
“Sure,” he lied, and headed toward the car, me skipping to catch up to him then falling into stride alongside him.
“Did I… was it…” Great, and there went my ability to string together sentences.
“Huh?” he asked.
“Have I upset you? Did I say or do something?” Horror struck me. “Did I choose the wrong place to take you? I should have asked you if you liked jazz, or if you wanted to go somewhere quieter.” I was working myself up into a mess, and I inhaled sharply as he placed a hand on my chest.
“No, Jesus, it wasn’t you.”
Every line of Craig’s body was rigid with strain, and it was so unlike what I’d come to learn about him—he’d relaxed with me since we were dating, loose and calm, and whatever had happened in there I wanted to go back in and fix it for him.
“My ex was in there,” Craig finally said, his voice low and tight. “It didn’t end well and somehow he always makes me feel…” He shrugged but I could see his expression and he was broken up about whatever had happened.
“Did he…” hurt you? hit on you? I didn’t know what I was asking. He didn’t know anything about my asshole ex, and I’d never asked about any of his past hookups or partners. Should we have done that by now? This was where my social skills lacked polish, but it didn’t seem as if we were heading downthe path of the exes discussion anyway, even though I could tell there was more to the story.
