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“I even gave you a fake name.” She picks up her drink and finishes it.
“What?” I answer my phone when I see that it’s Miles, hoping this woman will get out of here.
“Where the hell are you? Why is Ellery in tears?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I thought you were cool with her taking the job?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. See you at practice tomorrow.” I hang up on him and nod at the bartender.
“What a waste,” Flora, or whatever her name is, says, slamming her glass on the bar top and walking away.
Thank God.
I move away from the bar and into a booth, giving myself more privacy.
I don’t know how long I’m there when two bodies slide in on either side of me. But I know it’s long enough for all the alcohol I’ve ingested to hit me.
“Guys!” I raise my beer. “Have a drink.”
As luck would have it, my waitress, Carmen, comes to take their drink order. “What will you guys have?”
“Just a water,” Miles says.
“Nothing,” Damon answers and turns his gaze on me. “What the fuck?”
“What?” I glare at him.
“What is wrong with you? You’re getting drunk during the week, and we have practice tomorrow. The girl you’ve been drooling over for years is crying uncontrollably back at The Den. I’m watching you ruin your entire life.”
“She doesn’t love me, man,” I say, finishing off my beer.
“Ellery said that?” Miles’s eyebrows raise.
“She didn’t have to. It’s obvious in her actions. She doesn’t want marriage or kids, or at least not with me.”
Carmen comes over, and I ask her for another beer, but Miles shakes his head. “If you want a big tip, you’ll refill my drink,” I tell her.
Damon reaches into his pocket and pulls out a couple hundred-dollar bills. “This is to not serve him anymore.”
Carmen’s eyebrows shoot up, and she smiles. “Done.”
“Traitor. All you women are traitors!” I shout after her.
“Whoa now, let’s not get kicked out of the bar,” Damon says.
“I love her,” I say, the crack in my voice belying how scared I am that I might lose it. “But she doesn’t love me the same way.”
“How do you know?” Miles asks.
“Because she’s first in my world, but I’m not in hers. She wants space and not to rush into things, but we’ve been best friends for ten fucking years. I know her cycle, her favorite brand of makeup, how much she dislikes poppy seed bagels but loves poppy seed muffins. I would ace a trivia quiz about Ellery Wallace.”
Neither of them says anything.
“And now she’s gonna move? To New York? Like her dad didn’t set that up to get her away from me.”
“I doubt—” Miles starts to say when I shoot him a death glare.
