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She shrugged noncommittally. “He cheated first. With my sister.”
“Maybe so, but you were the one who brought a third participant into our marriage.”
She twisted her head and threw me a violent stare. “You were the one who wanted a threesome!” She jabbed her finger in my chest.
“I’m talking about the gonorrhea.”
“Okay then.” Brendan stood up, patting his pockets to ensure his wallet, phone, and dignity were all in one place. “I’m going to head to my room now. Y’all obviously have some things to resolve, and frankly, it’s getting a little late and I had a big dinner. It was nice meeting you, Mr. and Mrs.…Weiner.”
The last name was uttered with a wince.
I waved him off with a smile. “Sure thing. Maybe we’ll catch a game of golf sometime.”
“Yeah. I don’t know about that. I’m not much of a golfer.”
He was already on the other side of the bar. World’s tiniest violin for this creeper.
I wrapped my arm around Tennessee and squeezed, my smile broadening.
“Say goodbye to him, cuz.”
“I’m going to kill you,” she muttered.
“Oh, sweetheart, not if I kill you first.”
For the record, I wasn’t chatting up Brendan at the bar.
I wasn’t even supposed to be at the bar to begin with.
I’d been headed toward the boardwalk, lost in thought and barely getting over another stream of tears and hiccups when I noticed from across the deck there was only one bartender manning the huge bar.
He was flustered, not a lot older than twenty-three, with two huge patches of sweat adorning his armpits.
Helping others had always given me a sense of direction and soothed my soul. Seeing someone who may be more stressed than me in that moment meant I could make something better for someone, if not myself. Plus, it wasn’t like I had anything else to do while Cruz Costello was no doubt busy telling the entire world how much of an idiot I was.
Also—I was still wearing my Jerry & Sons uniform and looked like a waitress.
If that wasn’t fate, I didn’t know what was.
The bartender—Stevie—almost kissed me he was so grateful for the help. Apparently, both the barmaids who’d been supposed to work with him on this shift had fallen ill, and he was waiting for their replacements to get dressed.
I’d only helped him for twenty minutes before two veteran bartenders came to save the day. I was almost disappointed when they showed up, since I was making pretty neat tips and taking my mind off of the Elation/Ecstasy ordeal.
I even made a mental note to try to find work in cruises sometime before Bear went to college so I could, well, afford to send him to one. Hell, same job but not in a town that hated me? Where was the downside?
To show his appreciation, Stevie began sending all sorts of fancy cocktails my way—the type you had to pay for and didn’t come free with the all-you-can-drink package.
And soon, I had to hand some of them over to people around me to avoid alcohol poisoning. One of them, a Brendan McGinn from Louisiana, had decided to strike up a conversation with me.
Everything was going well, and I actually began to calm down a little until Cruz stormed in and made both of us look like slimy perverts.
The worst part was that I’d been blindsided by his behavior.
He’d never acted like this before. Not now. Not in high school. Heck, not even when we were both booger-ridden toddlers at the local nursery.
I knew Cruz would never embarrass himself (and me) like this within Fairhope city limits. But now, away from our town—from our state—apparently, all bets were off.
I was officially his humiliation amusement park, designed solely for his entertainment.
