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“I miss him,” she whispers.
“Yeah, I do too.” I sigh, heavy with sorrow when I think of my father, knowing his death left a gaping wound that made her shut the door to any other romantic relationship since then.
My mom clears her throat and changes the subject. “Now, have you called the doctor yet, Brian?”
My jaw sets, feeling the worry in her voice. “Mom, I’m still not sure what to do.”
“Sweetheart, I know it sounds scary, but that operation could lower the risk of you dying if things go wrong. Why don’t you talk about it with your friends? They—”
“Mom, they don’t know,” I cut in.
“Oh, Brian. Why haven’t you told them?”
“Please, Mom, don’t.”
She lets out a deep sigh. “Okay, we’ll talk about it at our Wednesday dinner. It’s time to hang up, so you can follow my advice and search for a woman who wants more than a good night.”
I chuckle at her subtle warning.
“Love you, Mom.”
“Love you too. Have fun and give my best wishes to Cole and his wife.”
“Will do.”
After hanging up, I lean back in my chair before opening a special photo album on my phone. Staring at my parents’ smiling faces, I can almost feel the warmth of their embrace. But then, like a sniper’s arrow hitting his target, pain stabs through me as I remind myself how their love and happiness turned into unimaginable pain in a blink of an eye. I witnessed my mother go from being happy to sinking into despair after my father’s death. And there was nothing I could do. The sound of her endless, gut-wrenching sobs still echoes in my ears when I lie in bed at night. This is why I stick to fleeting romances. I don’t want someone to suffer the same anguish as my mom did.
Amanda comes to mind; the only woman who makes it hard for me to stick to my one-night stand pattern. She elicits feelings that are extraordinary, powerful, and scary as fuck. And regardless of how hard I try to deny them, they stay as a thick splinter that won’t break away. Every time I see her, an impulse within me yearns to surrender to these feelings, but I know she’s better off as a good friend than a lover. That’s the number one reason why I banned us into the friend zone six years ago. She deserves someone who can offer her an assured future. The only thing I can give her is dread and an uncertain tomorrow. Two things she doesn’t deserve. She deserves love and to have that gorgeous smile on her face all the time.
I yank open the drawer of my desk and snatch the booklet given to me by Dr. Wilson two days ago. Through gritted teeth, I flip through the pages, seeing the same words I’ve read before. And ICD. A precaution, an emergency device for when my ticker stutters or stops. It enhances my chances of surviving, nothing more, nothing less. Just like my father, I have a heart that’s like a grenade with a wonky safety pin. Only he didn’t know he had it until it was too late. I do know. Which feels like I’m living with the sword of Damocles lurking in the shadows every day. My chest heaves, my breathing quickening as I violently slam the drawer shut.Time to focus on fun things.
With my phone back in my pocket, I rise and make my way back to the party. Seeing the newlyweds together fills me with joy. Cole and Alisha, who would have thought? Two years ago, Nick invited Cole and me to meet his new girlfriend, Emma. Her two friends, Alisha and Bella, accompanied her. The moment Cole and Alisha saw each other, there were sparks flying between them, though neither of them wanted to admit it. We found out they met once before, which ended in an argument and Alisha giving Cole the nicknames Grumpy and Bulldozer. But then life threw them both a curveball and they needed each other—whereupon love blossomed instead of disdain.
My gaze races around the room, seeping in its spotless glory, my sanctuary and hard-earned success. After years of working night and day to get customers, Six-Pack is now a luxurious club that offers its services for events and weddings with effortless grace. It’s a pleasure to make people content and give them a place to temporarily put their worries aside.
Staying busy with my business or hanging out with my two best friends keeps me from thinking about the uncertainty of life. But now that they are both married, things have changed.
My muscles stiffen as my gaze focuses on Amanda, perched atop the barstool, and her current beau, Steven, hovering possessively next to her. My opinion of Amanda’s taste in men has never been positive. Throughout the years, I’ve seen her attempt to find a man worthy of her. But till now, none of them have realized what they had in their arms. And I’m kind of thankful for that. Because what Amanda needs is a man who can recognize how special she is and worship her for the successful goddess she has become. And the dipshit she has been dating sure didn’t see that.
Within seconds, I find myself back behind the bar. Steven is around my height, with a decent physique, but I’m pretty sure I could beat his ass in the gym. My teeth are grinding against each other in frustration when I hear him lecture her about having another drink.
“Drinking alcohol has been shown to cause premature aging in the skin,” he tells her, winking. “It also messes with brain cells and encourages people to do stupid things that make them end up in the ER.”
Before he can preach any more medical mumbo-jumbo, I cut in and stand next to Darius as I shoot Steven a piercing look. “If Amanda wants another cocktail, she gets one.”
Mister dipshit crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at me. “I’m not saying she can’t,” he scoffs. “I’m just giving her my professional advice.”
“Well, it’s terrible advice,” I reply. “Amanda’s skin is going to survive one more drink. She’s celebrating her best friend’s wedding.”
I reach for a glass from the shelf and fill it with ice, then pour in a combination of cherry liqueur and vodka before placing it in front of her. “One Red Russian for the lady,” I say with a smile. Her eyes meet mine for a moment before darting away.
“So you don’t drink alcohol?” Darius questions Steven.
“Only in moderation. I’m wiser because I’m a doctor.”
I’m rolling my eyes inwardly at his arrogance. Yeah, right. Wiser, my ass. You presumptuous dick.What the fuck does she see in him?
My heart rate increases as he steps closer to Amanda and asks, “Why don’t you forget the drink and come out to dance with me?”
