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“I hate you.” I turn up the song on the radio and start singing along.
“You do not.” She waits ‘til the song finishes, then pounces again. “You should see Jax and talk to him while you’re there.”
My chest shrivels but my body buzzes at the thought of being in front of him again. I’m so scared, though. There are so many what ifs. What if he moved on? What if he hasn’t but still thinks the same? What if I’m the only one pining here?
“I’ll think about it.”
My sister smiles. “That’s all I ask. I’ll come to your house this weekend and we’re going to choose some killer outfits. He’s going to bust in his pants when he sees you.”
Oh God.
* * *
Saona
I’m a big glop of chicken shit. I’ve been in Baltimore since last night and I haven’t had the guts to text or call Jax. Throughout the drive down here, while giving myself the ultimate therapy session, I concluded there’s no reason why we can’t have a cup of coffee like old friends.
I had made up my mind and was all set to do it. Until I’d gotten to the lobby and looked in the direction of the bar. Though it was still closed, all the memories hit me at once and I ended up sitting in my room, binging on Netflix shows.
And now, what I’ve been avoiding is going to happen anyway. My Baltimore staff is insisting we go to my hotel bar and I have no reason to say no. The Christmas party is next door to my hotel.I think I’m going to be sick.
My legs are heavy, like lead, all the way to the hotel and I have to concentrate on putting one leg in front of the other and what Leticia, my assistant here, is saying so I don’t take off in a run.
“I love Jess but it’s so much better you came down. You give the staff reassurance and validation. And your Christmas gifts are so fabulous. Can’t wait to try my lip kit. My sister will go green with envy.”
If my insides weren’t the consistency of pudding, I would be so touched by her words and would feel super guilty. But this is just a reminder of why I didn’t come, because the idea of being in the same city with him and not seeing him…it’s awful.
With each step closer to the front door of the bar, my heart thumps harder. How can I breathe between that and the tight clenching of my belly? One of my coworkers opens the door to the hotel lobby and we all go through it.
The concierge gives me a warm smile and waves. “Welcome back.”
It’s easy to smile back at him. “Thank you. Nice to see you too.”
I’m so proud of the way I speak like all is well. What I’m not so proud of is my body’s reluctance to head in the direction of the bar. It’s like walking through quicksand to get thirty feet away.
My eyes shoot straight for the bar and my breath wheezes out but my stomach plummets. He’s not there. There’s a different bartender. I don’t know if I should drop to my knees to thank God or curse my luck. On one hand, I don’t have to face him but on the other, the truly disappointed one, I don’t get to see him.
“Let’s take that corner by the end of the bar, where all the chairs are empty,” Colton, one of our managers, suggests.
It’s not until the second drink that I begin to relax and participate in the conversation with Leticia and Colton. “I think you guys need to put that request through corporate. I’ll definitely take it back with me and endorse it, but an official request will go a long way to getting this approved.”
I open my phone again and look at the messages I’ve typed and re-typed over and over again throughout the day and try to choose one.
Hey, I’m in town. Would you like to grab some coffee and catch up?
Or should I say I would love to see you? No, that would probably sound like I’m trying too hard.
God, how do I run two sets of personnel but can’t send one freaking text message?
I almost drop the phone when it vibrates in my hand with a message from Sierra.
Did you call him yet?
I answer a question from Leticia and accept Colton’s offer of another drink before I text her back with the wordNo.
OMG, Saona. WTF are you waiting for?
I close my phone screen because the last thing I need is her pushing. But she’s a pain in my ass that refuses to quit and sends five messages.
