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“June Bailey.”
He quickly scans over the list of three pages, pen in his hand being used for assistance. “Not here.”
I nervously fiddle with the high split of the blush, floral, floor length dress I let Jaye convince me to buy – in spite of my aversion to this particular print – for this event. “Um…can you…eyeballs again?”
“What?”
“Do the thing with your eye socket occupants a second time.”
“Huh?”
Shutting my eyes occurs on a heavy sigh.
What is wrong with me?
Seriously?
Why am I the only person on the planet whose mouth and mind can’t seem to stay united?
And why did I fall in love with the way Tucker never seemed to mind?
Dispiritedness darts down the back of my throat, yet I force myself to put on the best, professional smile I can and clarify, “Can you please look again?”
The male nods, glances down, and repeats the previous action, quickly coming to the same conclusion. “Not here.”
“You sure?” Panic aggressively conquerors my tone. “Maybe it’s um…under Juniper?”
“Is your name Juniper?”
“No.”
“Then why would it be under Juniper?”
Because my boss – well old boss as of three days ago – is so terrible with names that had it not been for her husband and nephew she probably would’ve insisted I permanently change it to something she could recall with less issue.
Rather than say any of that or anything at all, my mouth simply remains slightly agape.
Completely frozen.
Unable to make any kind of argument on my behalf for why I belong at this reception.
Truth is…Tucker was right.
I was only invited to do a job.
A job which I fucked up in so many ways it’s anime level of unreal.
I honestly should’ve never agreed to watch out over him to begin with. The skillset on my resume has never included the ability to control or herd ripped, tattooed, hippie billionaires who probably moonlight as cologne models when they feel the need to contribute more directly to society. In fact, the closest I’ve ever been to being able to corral people is keeping tabs on my sisters and even then, I’m pretty sure I’ve epically failed.
How else do you explain me not knowing Ivy nearly quit school after finding out her professor that she had been hooking up with was married and refused to leave his wife for them to be together until four days ago, approximately half an hour after my boyfriend dumped me?
A topic I so did not bring up then.
Nor will I probably ever.
I’ll just subtly stop mentioning him all together and at some point – because my siblings are all less dense than me – they’ll pick up on it.
Who knows.
Maybe by then I’ll be on my way to my second boyfriend.
Or more likely on my way to adopt another waterfowl for Koose Koose to be friends with.
He’s equally as heartbroken as I am.
He just mopes.
Refuses to eat.
Sleeps on the patio chair.
I hate to think what’ll happen to him when I finally decide to leave versus sticking around in hopes of Tuck magically walking back through the front door to apologize.
To tell me he didn’t mean the shit he said.
To…I don’t know. Take me with him after all?
“Never mind,” I quietly concede on a small shake of the head. “I’m probably not on there.” My bare shoulders bounce in defeat, tears collecting on the brim of my lids. “I shouldn’t be on there.” They grow in numbers. Weight. “I’m no one.” Shifting my volume to one meeker unconsciously happens next. “No one special. No one meaningful. No one-”
“Who should be here alone,” an unexpected voice sweetly speaks over my shoulder. “Check for her name with mine. Tucker Frost.”
The dark-haired individual happily looks away from my meltdown to the paper in his hand. This time, he speaks almost immediately, “Ah. I see it.” He nods to himself as he draws a line through the selection. “I wasn’t looking for it on both sides.” When he’s finished, he meets our stares. “My mistake.” His grin is polite and for some reason that makes me even more upset. “Sorry about that.”
“Mistakes happen.” My boyfriend – forMonaLisaSake ex-boyfriend – places a warm palm on the small of my back. “We all make them.”
Tucker’s double meaning isn’t missed.
But isn’t acknowledged either.
Perhaps because bailing on me wasn’t an accident like overlooking my name.
It was a choice.
A very ugly and selfish choice.
“Enjoy the party,” the guard insists upon kicking his chin to the other member of security to grant us access inside.
“Thank you,” Tucker states warmly, prompting me to echo the sentiment.
About two steps on the other side of the threshold, I step out of his hold and finally face the man I’ve been shedding tears over nonstop for days. Unfortunately for me, due to the beautiful bright blue suit that brings out his eyes and the well accessorized fedora, I can’t say any of the things I’ve been wanting to. I can’t scream at how angry I am for being left and not given the chance to keep fighting for us. I can’t cry about how abandoned and alone I’ve been feeling. I can’t even curse him for being so fucking selfish.
