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“Suit yourself,” I answer, still stinging a little from how she was acting earlier.
I take my time lining up my shot, then when I sink it, I slowly make my way around the table to line up the cue ball with the eight ball so I can finish the game. It’s a shot I could make in my sleep, but I’m kind of enjoying the fact that Harper is waiting on me. Also, that everyone in the entire place is watching her do just that.
Once I tap the cue ball, I straighten up. Before the eight ball sinks into the corner pocket, I tell Timmy, “Good game.”
He scowls at me. “I hate it when you do that.”
“Win?”
“No.Assumeyou’ve won before the game’s over. That’s plain cocky and no one likes that.”
I glance back down at the table. The eight ball has already disappeared, and the cue ball is making a return trip toward the center of the table. “I could see how it might be annoying if I was wrong …”
Timmy looks at Harper and says, “I don’t know why you want to talk to this guy. He’s full of himself.”
Harper smiles. “He made a good point though. He did make the shot.”
Setting down his cue, Timmy grumbles, “I’m gonna wipe the floor with you next time, Mr. Cocky. Just you wait.” Then he shuffles off.
Once he’s gone, I pick up my bottle of Bud that was waiting for me on the side of the pool table and sit down across from Harper. “Beer?” I ask.
She winces, clearly not quite ready to drink just yet, then says, “Thank you, no.”
“So? What’s up?” I ask, taking a sip.
“Are you mad at me for some reason?” she asks.
“Nope,” I answer. “I just realized I should extricate myself from your current situation.”
“Why is that, exactly?” she asks, but before I can answer, Cecily, the only waitress at the Steel Trap, interrupts.
“What can I get you, hun?” she asks Harper.
“Do you have club soda?” Harper asks her.
“Sure do. Lemon?”
“Yes, please.”
Turning to me, Cecily says, “Another beer, Digger?”
“You know it, Cecily.” I look back at Harper, trying to remind myself we are not an item and never will be. “What were we talking about?” I ask even though I know.
“I was asking if you’re mad at me for some reason.”
I shrug my shoulders noncommittally. “Your friends are here now, and your life is pretty complicated, what with you considering getting back together with that lying, cheating—”
“I’m not getting back together with him,” she says firmly.
My head snaps back and my heart picks up its pace. “You sure?”
Nodding, she says, “Positive. You were right. I’d be sending completely the wrong message to my kids.”
Relief washes over me, and I’m sure she can see it on my face. “Good for you.”
“Thanks,” she says. “I know it’s the right thing to do, but it’s scary, you know …”
I nod, even though I can’t imagine what she’s feeling. Cecily returns with our drinks, dropping them off quickly without a word.
