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Her weight shifts from one foot to the other. “For what? Commenting on my presentation or something else?”
I squint my eyes to look closer. “What’s on your face?” I reach out to the smear on her chin, but she slaps my hand away and brushes it off.
“Um...” I point at her shirt. “I think you have a soft pretzel hanging out of your pocket.”
“I know! It’s there on purpose!” she snaps, slapping my hand away a second time.
I hold up both my hands as a ceasefire and have to steel my face to keep from laughing.
“What do you want?” She snarls, like a pissed-off raccoon.
I take a deep breath. “I owe you an apology. A lot of apologies.”
“Did you record me?” She wraps her arms around her waist and looks at the floor. There’s so much shame in her voice. It guts me.
“What?”
“The cam video. Did you record it? There are laws—”
“Jesus. No. I wouldn’t do that.”Does she believe I’m trying to blackmail her?
“There’s a lot of things I thought you wouldn’t do.” Her eyes look wet.
Ouch.I can’t fault her. Any trust she had in me has been obliterated.
“I just wanted to check on you. To know you were okay.”
“Never better,” she deadpans, throwing her arms open wide.
She seems checked out from me and this conversation.
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. I want feisty Freya back, but this version looks brokenhearted. I purse my lips and nod toward the floor. I shouldn’t have come over, she’s not ready.
“I’ll see you around, Freya Girl.”
“Don’t call me that.” Her eyes glaze over even more, and that sweet voice I love comes out defeated and hollow. “And Rhys?”
“Yeah?”
“I meant what I said about staying away from me.”
I want to reach for her, but she slams the door in my face.
I fucked up.
ELEVEN
It’s Sunday night, and I’m finishing the final closing chores at Top Shelf. It’s been a long shift. We had the hockey game on tonight, the Lakes played in Chicago, and it went into double overtime. Anytime that happens, people start ordering drinks and food to quell their anxiety. Other than that, tonight ran smoothly, but I’m coming off a six-day work week, and I’m looking forward to my bed.
Thankfully, and surprisingly, Rhys has been respectful of giving me space. He’s only shown up with the team once in the last two weeks, and even then, he didn’t sit at the bar. He placed his order with the server, same as the rest of the guys. We’ve not spoken one word to each other sincethe incident. Well, that’s not true, he’s spoken one word. He said hi in the hallway about a week ago. I didn’t acknowledge it.
When the last of the glasses are washed and restocked, the ice bin drained, and the soda gun disassembled and sanitized, I walk around the bar to straighten the barstools and tidy up the floor.
“Do you want me to wait for you?” Amanda asks, putting her coat on.
“No, I’m good. Almost done. Just need to grab my tips and clock out. You can head out, I’ll lock up. Do you want me to walk you to your car?”
“No, that’s all right, Justin’s outside, he’s going to walk to the lot with me. Have a good rest of the night!”
