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I take a more ladylike sip of the bubbles, knowing it’s not gonna last if I keep slugging it back like a sailor. The bartender looks at me and his lips twitch. It’s like he can tell this isn’t gonna be the last time he sees me before boarding.
I’m not usually a big drinker, but I think the situation calls for it. And I fucking deserve it.
When I think about it, I didn’t really mix in the same circles as James, since most of his friends are rich snobs. A couple I got along with when we met on occasion, but not that many. I don’t like people who treat waitstaff like slaves; they’re people too, just doing a job.
The bartender tops my glass up without me having to ask, and I smile at him gratefully. He gives me a sympathetic look that tells me he’s seen it all before.
I even—if you can get any more pathetic—splurged on new bikinis and a cover up, as well as a couple of new dresses for my romantic holiday alone. Urgh.How tragic.
At least I will have my book boyfriends to keep me company. Maybe there’ll be a hot guy at the resort who I can get to be my cabana boy for a weekend. You know, when in Mexico and all that.
I sigh, wondering if I should order a bowl of peanuts because that’s about all I can still afford on this trip. Lucky for me, the accommodation is all inclusive, which was another expense that I thought was a good deal at the time.
Someone’s got the game on really loud in the bar. I don’t know who’s playing, nor do I care.
I just want to wallow in my own self-pity.
By my third glass of champagne, and still no food, I warn the bartender to cut me off. If I have any more, I’ll be looking for the nearest karaoke machine and any innocent looking bystander to join me in an out of tune singalong.
It could get messy.
I glance around the bustling bar and wonder how in the hell I’m going to have a fun time by myself in romantic Cancun for the next two weeks… I mean,who am I kidding?
With James, I did what I usually do; made him my entire world, putting his needs before mine,even though he’d say differently.
I wear my heart on my sleeve, I always have, and deep down, I’m a hopeless romantic.
I suck on the strawberry at the bottom of my champagne glass and that’s when I see him.
Oh, holy shit.
What’s worse than seeing James in a busy airport? James’s dad is what.
Lukas Bentley sits at one of the booth tables adjacent to the bar.
Though I’ve only met the man twice when me and James were dating, he isn’t the kind of man you can easily forget.
He’s graying, though he wouldn’t even be quite fifty yet, and his hair is perfectly styled; short back and sides, and longer at the front, with it slicked back off his face.
He’s a handsome man, and he’s grown a beard since I saw him last. It’s dark with white and silver peppered in at the sides, similar to his hair. His jaw is chiseled and strong, like his son, and he has the same light blue eyes. Beautiful eyes.
I don’t know if it’s because I’ve had three overpriced glasses of champagne, and that’s why I’m noticing, but James’s dad is a fucking silver fox.The gene pool runs well in that family.
Pity James didn’t inherit any of his father's poise or stoicism. That’s clearly an assumption, but he looks like a man you wouldn’t mess with.
I bite my lip and giggle. Jesus. I’ve really lost the plot. Maybe I should stop drinking.
I slink down in my chair and turn away, so he doesn’t see me.
I know now why I like him. I remember James complaining that his dad refused him his trust fund, pushing the age back to thirty, or until he can ‘grow up,’ I think were the words I remember.
Go Mr. Bentley.
At least his dad has some redeeming qualities; it just seems they weren’t bestowed upon James.
What are the fucking chances that I’d see him in the same goddamn airport?
Kill me now.
