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Okay, not a dick.
I smile back.
He grimaces.
Dick.
Frowning, I pick up my drink and take a healthy swig, washing all my worries away. Except my worries actually amount to the size of Texas, and all the vodka in the world couldn't get rid of them, or make me feel better. At this point, I think I'm drinking in excess in hopes that I will just pass the hell out, forgetting my problems existed in the first place.
Sticking my fingers into the dainty glass, I fish out an olive and pop it into my mouth, just in time for Dom to return with a glass of water and a delightfully surprising treat. A big ass plate of fries, and a burger that is filled to the brim with juicy deliciousness.
My head swivels in his direction so quickly that I almost fall off the barstool my ass has been perched on for the last hour and a half. Prior to this chair, my ass was sitting at a table in the fancy dining room of the high-end restaurant for an additional 45 minutes, waiting for a blind date that never showed.
Third one this month. Awesome.
"Oh my god, you shouldn't have, Dom! This is the sweetest gift I've ever been given!" I gush, only half joking. I almost want to cry at how thoughtful he is, but then I force those bitch ass tears down because the last thing I need is for this cute bartender to think I'm a straight nutjob, crying over french fries.
Digging into the fry pile, I hand him one with all of the gratitude in the world, and the grace of a bull in a china shop. He barks out a laugh and reaches for the fry. I drop it because I overshoot where his hand actually is. He laughs again, bats my hand away, and grabs a fry straight off my plate like we're besties or something. Awww, cute. I made a friend. Now I really might cry.
Dom leans on the bar right across from me, a dirty white towel tossed over his shoulder, a button-up black shirt lacking a few at the top, and exposing his hairless tan chest. A bit thin and narrow for my taste. I prefer my men manly, rugged, and hairy. His chest reminds me of a naked mole rat, but his face is pretty. I can bet he's got a killer six-pack and cut Adonis' belt. My eyes trail down his body in an attempt to do a slow, sly perusal, but of course, my drunk self fails epically.
"Not that I would ever tell a pretty girl not to check me out, but it would be fruitless for ya, Sweetheart. My heart's already taken by another."Ouch, rejected again.Dom sighs dramatically, as though he's actively picturing his beloved right here and now. His golden-brown cheeks turn a little pink, and it softens his rejection, but I can't fight the scowl from appearing on my face. He snags another fry, and forcibly shakes his wistful expression away, before booping me on the nose with the offending carb.
Well fuck. "That's adorable, and all, Jeeves, but I have to tell you, if you can't control your loved-up self, I'm gonna have to ask you to kindly fuck off. I'm pretty sure my horrible love life has the potential to rub off on unsuspecting people in my near vicinity, and I would hate to deprive you of your happiness." My deadpanned declaration may seem heartless and sardonic, and maybe it is, but beneath it is an insanely large chasm of deep, soul-wrenching pain.
Usually, I can hide that shit like some sort of professional spy, but right now, I'm drunk as hell, and nursing yet another brush-off by a man who didn't think I was worthy. So excuse the fuck out of me if I can't tamp down my emotions tonight.
The pink-cheeked, giddy expression on Dom's face falls completely, and I steel myself for the tirade that's likely to come. The rude comments. The yell. The slap in the face. Metaphorical or otherwise, but it never does.
Dom nods knowingly and grabs another fry. He bites down on it and tilts his head to the side like he's trying to get into my brain to figure me all out. Good luck. I can't even figure my own shit out.
He gives one decisive nod like he's come to a conclusion. I take a big bite of my burger, stuffing my mouth so I can't say something or respond to whatever wise words he's about to throw my way. With the mood I'm in right now, I'm liable to eat his heart for dinner instead of this burger if he really pisses me off.
"So, Stephen is the head chef here. He's 6’3, has bright curly red hair, freckles, muscles for days, an ass that doesn't quit, a dick that could make you fall over and cry to the Gods in appreciation. Not to mention, as you can tell, he's gifted in the kitchen." My eyes narrow in confusion, then widen in understanding, then narrow again as a fresh wave of confusion fills me.
"Huh?" I mumble, washing down my bite of delicious, savory bacon cheeseburger with a sip of my drink. "Uhh, are you trying to set me up with the chef? Because I mean, he sounds hot and all but I don—"
His eyes grow comically large before he begins to shake his head rapidly, effectively cutting me off. Just watching him makes me dizzy. I have to close my eyes against the instant wave of nausea. Hell, maybe it is time to switch to water.
"No, no, no. Donotget any ideas. That one is mine." His quick and adamant admission takes me a minute to process, but then clarity washes over me. Ahhhh….so Stephen the Chef is Dom the Bartender's lover. Or boyfriend. Maybe my husband. Except, the forlorn look on his face tells me that maybe Stephen is none of the above. “As I was saying, Stephen is the chef here. He's beautiful, amazing, and confusing as fuck."
"Uh oh. Spill the tea, Jeeves. What did Stephen the Chef do?" Leaning in, I push my plate between the two of us so he can access my fries easier before sliding my water glass in front of me. I clumsily latch onto the straw, and rest my elbows on the bar, giving him my full attention. Talking about someone else’s fucked-up love life is way,wayeasier than discussing mine.
"Right, so, Stephen and I both got hired here three years ago whenPietro’sfirst opened. We went through training together, menu preparations, early morning openings, and late-night closings. All of it. For three damn years. The very first time I saw him, I knew. Something in my gut just told me,it's him.Like this guy, he's meant to be my forever, ya know?" I nod, completely invested in his drama.
Dom opens his mouth, but a customer calls out for the bartender. He tosses a finger in my direction, pauses his story, and jogs over to help the woman.
My mind goes back to the few things he's already said, and I can't help but wonder about my own love life. Was there anyone I've ever felt that way about? Someone who I just looked at andknew? Someone that made me say 'damn, you're my forever'? My other piece? My soulmate?
I immediately know the answer.
No.
That realization hits me deep in the gut. Like, way deep down inside of me. Holy shit.
Considering I’m semi-freshly divorced from a man I spent ten years with, I’m beyond shocked at the realization that I didn't look at my ex and just know. I didn't look at him, and tell myself he wasthe one, my forever, my soulmate.
I looked at Cole and said, 'yeah, I love you, let's do this whole future thing'.
