Page 20 of Last First Date

They both laughed at that.

"Good for you," Meredith said.

"But seriously," Janie said after a moment. "Promise us you will be careful, Waverly. I can see that guy wearing you down. I don't think I would have the self-control to shut him down if he looked at me."

"I promise," I replied, raising my glass in a mock salute. "But let's stop talking about Knox and his many alleged faults for one evening."

"Sounds good to me," Janie said.

"Me too," Meredith agreed. "Enough of Knox and his model-dating ways."

10

KNOX

The week had been nothing short of miserable. I was glad it was over. I felt like I was treading water. My hometown might have been a picturesque location for some, but for me, it was like serving time. I poured myself a drink from the bar in the living room and carried it out to the patio. It was a cool evening but nothing like New York. The patio heater took care of any lingering cold.

I felt like I was at a crossroads. I couldn't walk away. It would disappoint my grandfather as well as my mother. There was no way I was going to be able to go back to my old job. My grandfather wouldn't let it happen. He controlled my trust fund. Yes, I could live without it, but I didn't really want to. Quitting wasn't an option. Yes, it was hard, but it wasn't impossible. It was going to take time to iron out the kinks.

It just felt very lonely. I didn't have any friends here. I certainly didn't have any friends at the office.

The name Waverly ran through my head. She was a thorn in my side but a beautiful one. There was something about her, something that I found refreshing despite our differences. The way she stood up to me intrigued me. It wasn’t like the other women who hung around me. They were always looking for something, their eyes gleaming with ulterior motives.

But Waverly? She was different.

She didn't seem to want anything from me except to do her job well. She seemed genuinely interested in the business and the legacy of my grandfather. She cared about the company. I could see the value in that.

And then, there was the way she looked. The woman had curves for day. She was gorgeous and humble. Unlike a lot of the women I encountered, she didn't bat her eyelashes at me or try to get me into bed. It was the exact opposite with her. She could barely stand to look at me. That was new to me.

My phone buzzed on the table, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced at it and saw it was a text from my mother.

I groaned as I read it. Another dinner. This time, she wanted me to join her and a few of her friends. I was expected to play the dutiful son. I loved her, but damn, I hated being trotted out to smile and shake hands. The prospect of enduring another round of conversations with well-meaning strangers left me with a profound sense of dread.

I drained the rest of my drink and texted her back, letting her know I was exhausted and not up for dinner. I wasn't worried she was going to be alone. She would be out late, just like she was most nights. It was pretty sad my mother had a more active social life than I did.

I stood up, stretched, and walked back inside. After showering and changing into jeans and a hoodie, I poured myself another drink. After finishing my second drink, I decided I had to get out of the house. I didn't know where I was going, but anywhere but here worked. I pulled up Google maps, looked for a bar, and then ordered an Uber. The driver delivered me to a dimly lit, hole-in-the-wall bar. I didn't know if someone was breaking the rules or the place was so old the wood still held the unmistakable scent of tobacco. It was the kind of place where nobody cared about legacies or family obligations. No one gave a shit about who I was. This was the perfect place to be anonymous.

I took a seat at the worn-out bar, telling myself not to get weird about the dingy atmosphere. The wood was weathered by years of spilled drinks and wear and tear. I put my elbows on the edge and quickly pulled them back when I realized there was something sticky on the bar.

The bartender approached me with a nod, tossing a paper coaster in front of me. That seemed pretty ridiculous, considering the condition of the worn wood.

"What'll it be?" he grunted.

"Whiskey," I replied, my voice carrying the weight of my frustrations. "Top shelf."

He smirked. "Yeah, top shelf." He chuckled. As the amber liquid filled my glass, the man looked at me. "You're not from around here."

"What gives me away?" I asked.

"Your clothes, for starters. And that 'top shelf' request. Folks come here for cheap booze and peace from life's bullshit."

I looked down at my hoodie. It was a Dolce and Gabana. I didn't really think about dressing down. To me it was casual.

I smirked back at him. "Busted."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I won't hold it against you. Just don't tell me you're from LA."

"Worse." I grinned. "New York."