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He squinted at her. “I’m sorry?”
“Go. To. Your. Booth.”
Nick did as he was told, even though he was quickly becoming more irritated than confused as he climbed into his seat.
After a minute, he spotted Hayley heading his way from the bar.
Whereas Nick was resigned to deliberately dragging one foot after the other, moving forward through brute force and reflexive apologies and a healthy dose of endurance, this woman commanded the space around her without even trying. He felt like every movement she made, every step and flexed muscle and every shift of weight, were all evidence of her body perfectly doing exactly what it was designed to do. She wasn’t walking, Nick thought. She was gliding, like every step was skimming across the placid surface of a lake. And she was doing it with both hands full of fresh drinks, keeping her eyes on him.
Nick saw all she could do and all he would never do, and he felt deeply sad.
“Jack and ginger.” She handed the glass to him. “And whiskey sour for me.”
He was surprised. “How’d you know I like Jack and ginger?”
“I’m a bartender. It’s a gift.”
Hayley hopped up onto the seat across from him in one fluid movement. Witnessing that sort of casual grace was almost more amazing than seeing her dance.
She said, very deliberately, “Mr. Freeman.”
“Ms.…” Nick was at a loss. “I actually have no idea.”
“Burke,” she said. “Hayley Michelle Burke. You and I need to work out our shit.”
He spread his hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Because I know you don’t … like, I know I shouldn’t have said all that stuff about people’s legs, but what you said was really shitty too. You acted like I was five years old, like I’d only be okay until I broke one of my toys.” She stopped, cocked her head. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “You were really happy, and it wasn’t right to act like you don’t deserve to be. That’s not who I am. I’m sorry.”
She watched him, intrigued. “How long’ve you been rehearsing that one?”
“About a week.”
“Most people’d just say, ‘Sorry, I was a dick.’”
Nick laughed without intending to, and liked that she’d made him do it. “Was my version better or worse?”
“It was verydeliberate.” She tilted her glass back and forth and watched her drink swirl. “You thought about that alot.”
Nick caught something in the lazy cadence of her speech and realized he had no idea how many pickleback shots had shown up before him. He guessed Hayley would say drunk was still a few drinks away, but judging by the way she was downing her latest one, she was headed for drunk pretty quickly.
“So we’re good?” he asked.
Hayley blinked at him, jarred out of her thoughts. “What?”
“We’re good?” he repeated. “All’s forgiven?”
She let out a long breath. “Yeah. All’s forgiven.”
Nick wasn’t sure how to respond; his apology seemed to have depressed her. “Um, okay.” He started sliding out of the booth. “Have a good night.”
“You like them better than me, don’t you?”
He stopped. “Who?”
“Everybody,” she said. “You like everybody better than me.”
