“Hey, Mae!” I answer brightly but in a hushed tone. Thank heavens the restaurant is relatively quiet. “Sorry I missed your calls.”
“Where are you?” she asks.
The bartender places my drink down and I wave my thanks and fish for my wallet while I talk. “I’m in the United lounge. Just waiting for my flight to board.”
There’s a beat of quiet from her end. “I didn’t realize you were leaving today. Why don’t you stay for Easter?”
“I decided last minute. I was going to call you when I got through security and forgot. I’m sorry.” I hate lying to her, but she’s got a big mouth, and I can’t risk my parents finding out I’m still here.
“Yeah, you are,” she retorts. “I didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye.”
“You’re having it now.”
“You’re so mean, Sin.”
“I know, but I love you. Is everything okay at home?”
My sister sighs. “Yeah, no, everything is cool. Mama and Daddy went to a special service at church. I came over thinking I’d find you alone. I was hoping we could have dinner. But never mind that.”
I bite my lip and wince at the pang of guilt that knots my stomach. Ihatelying to my sister. “I’ll be back, Mae. Soon.”
“I know. I can’t wait. Oh! I know you have to go, but Stephen texted to say he’d been trying to reach you. Is everything okay?”
Not at all. “Yup. I’ll call him when I get to my gate.” Time to end this before I say more than I mean to. “It’ll be late when I land, so I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure. It was great to see you. I love you.”
“Love you more, Mae. Bye.”
I hang up and drop my head into my hands. Being selfish isn’t easy, but I’ve learned the hard way that it’s easier than giving more than you get back.
I needed one night alone to settle my nerves after a week staying with my parents and I don’t regret taking it.
The bartender delivers my drink as I hang up. I hand him my credit card. “Can I start a tab?”
He takes it. “Sure, you want to see the menu?”
I hesitate and look back at the hostess stand. “How likely is it that there’ll be a cancellation tonight?” I ask.
“Oh, not likely at all.”
I pout and give up. “I’ll take that menu,” I tell him. I’m hungry and the food will taste just the same here as it would at a table.
He takes the card and walks to the register.
I’m starting to relax when a deep voice next to me says, “Excuse me, miss,” followed by a hand on my shoulder.
Annoyed and not in the mood for any bullshit tonight, I cast a withering glance at the trespassing appendage. And promptly swallow the “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” that’s on the tip of my tongue.
Everyone has a weakness and mine happens to be well-formed hands. The one I’m looking at is remarkable—golden brown, nicely veined, neatly trimmed broad nails on long fingers and big enough to cover the entirety of my shoulder.
Well damn.
It’s almost enough to make up for being touched by a stranger.
Almost.
I slip out of his grasp before I turn to face him.
