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Damn, she’s right. I’m really rusty with this whole getting-to-know-somebody thing. “Tell me something you haven’t told me before.”
Tracey traces a finger around the rim of her glass, considering what she hasn’t already told me. “Sometimes I dream of burying my ex-husband six feet deep.”
I chuckle at the conflicted expression on her face. “So, you hate him then?”
“No. I can’t hate him when we have a beautiful daughter together. He gave me the best thing in my life, and for that I could never hate him. But sometimes, I really want to hate him for what our separation and divorce has done to Deja.”
“That’s understandable. You love your daughter.”
It’s all the prompting she needs. A smile as dazzling as the fireworks illuminating the vast sky at Eleanor Tinsley Park—a place I frequently visit for its Fourth of July displays—lights up her face as she starts talking about Deja and the love her daughter has for photography. And fuck, Tracey has dimples just above the corners of her luscious lips… and I want to dive deep into them and taste them. Her hands move rapidly as she speaks, telling story after story. And I’m here for it, as each story is very entertaining.
“I’m sorry,” she says after a few minutes, laughing as she gives me a playful nudge on my arm. “I’ve been talking about my daughter for who knows how long. Your turn now. Tell me about yourself.”
“Well, there’s not much to tell. I own this bar and several others. I’m as estranged from my family as I can be while still attending birthdays and holidays. Other than that, there’s not much.”
“There has to be something else,” Tracey says, leaning forward and giving me that beautiful smile again. “I’m afraid you won’t keep me entertained long if your life is as simple as you’re implying.”
“Well, there’s not a whole lot to me. I like to think I’m a pretty simple guy.” I’m relieved to see her body perks up, curiosity clearly written all over her face. I clear my throat. “Care for another drink?” I know Tracey had agreed to one drink, but I’m enjoying her company so much, I want to prolong this moment with her. I release a breath when she agrees to a second drink. I gesture for Piper to bring us two more drinks, then set my eyes back on my beautiful companion.
Eyes twinkling, Tracey resumes the same line of questioning with no change in subject—not that I minded. “There has to be more to you. What do you like to do when you’re not working your fingers to the bone?”
“That’s the thing. I’m always working my fingers to the bone.” I chuckle. “The bars keep me fairly busy.”
“You’re starting to make yourself sound incredibly boring,” Tracey says, a teasing smile on her face. “Tell me something interesting about you—something not a lot of people know.”
I grin, because her boldness is refreshing. “I’ve collected vintage guitars and cameras for years. I’d like to have a collection of cars too, but those take significantly more time and funds to collect.”
“That’s impressive. I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to collect anything vintage. You look more like a live-in-the-now kind of guy.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have pegged you as the kind of woman who would need to tell a little white lie about not feeling well to avoid a date.” Oh fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything about that. But having a mother and ex-fiancée who both cheated on their partners, it’s difficult for me to trust easily. Little white lies lead to bigger lies and a fuck ton of trouble and heartbreak.
“I’m sorry about that,” Tracey says, looking down at the table and tracing the pattern of the grain with her fingertip. “Truth is, I was scared to come out tonight. The only person I’ve ever dated is my ex-husband, whom I met in high school, and I’m not sure what I’m doing.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing either, and I totally understand why you were a bit nervous about going out with me. Things worked out anyway, because I’m here with you.” I watch as the server, Jackson, brings the drinks I ordered. “Tracey, I’ll be back in a minute.” Giving her a smile I hope shows her I’m not upset and that I do accept her apology, I rise from my seat. She gives me an answering smile, which helps to soothe my nerves. I really don’t want to mess this up.
After leaving the washroom, I make my way back to our table only to find that Tracey has left. I scrub my hand over my face, wondering what I’d said to scare her off. Maybe calling her out on her fib was a bad idea after all. Jackson approaches with cloth in hand to clear and clean the table. As I step aside, I catch sight of an ID under the table. I bend and swipe it from off the tiled floor. It’s Tracey’s. I take mental note of her address and birthday before sliding it into my pocket, certain I’ll see her again.
Chapter Seven
Tracey
As the Uber drives me home, I think about Liam, the guilt still eating away at me. I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but by now he’ll realize I’m gone.
I’d stared at Liam’s retreating back, my heart hammering in my chest. Truth be told, I hadn’t expected to see him after blowing him off. Then, there he was looking even better than he had in his photos. He was good at talking and even better at listening, an easy smile on his face as I talked his ear off about Deja.
Maybe that was why I’d headed for the bar as soon as he was out of sight and paid my tab. I order an Uber as I walked outside, waiting on the curb until it pulled up a moment later. As I settled myself inside the car, the guilt began eating away at me. I eventually brushed it aside, not wanting to think too much.
Dating again is terrifying, especially when I know Liam is the kind of man that I could fall for. Although he was dressed casually enough, it was obvious he’s well off. Plus, I couldn’t possibly have endeared myself to him with that lie I’d told, which came back to bite me in the ass. If the shoe were on the other foot, that would have totally been a deal breaker for me.
I close my eyes and lean back in the seat, wondering when I would manage to get myself together. Even if I decide to see Liam again, I have a daughter to think about. Deja was upset I was going out in the first place. It would definitely be a sore point if I made a habit of it.
Sighing, I think about how Jake wanted to dip his dick in another woman and fucked up our family, yet he’s still living his best life… free of any major consequences from the changing dynamic between us.
I sigh again as the Uber stops in front of the apartment. It looks like my thoughts conjured up the fucker. Jake, with our daughter Deja, is sitting outside on the front porch. His car is still running in the driveway.
“What are you doing home?” I ask as I hurry up the driveway to my daughter. I shoot Jake a look as I catch sight of the tears in her eyes. “I thought you were going to be at Dad’s all weekend.”
“He doesn’t want me,” she whispers, looking more broken than she’d been the day he left our home for good.
