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I flag down a cab, helping her into the backseat. “Bye Claire,” I murmur, squeezing her hand once more, simply because I want to.
She looks up at me, a slow, small smile gracing her face, little dimples pulling in her cheeks. “Bye…”
“Avery,” I tell her.
That smile turns into a bright grin, warming my insides. “Bye Avery.”
I watch the cab until I can’t see it anymore, and then head back inside, hands in my pockets. I have to find Charlee to tell her what happened and that Claire’s gone home. I also need some info. Phone number, last name, where Claire works, anything that’ll help me see her again. I don’t know why, but I want to. I have to.
“She’s gone,” Wyatt says as I approach the table, my head craning around the bar, looking for the pretty blonde.
“Huh?”
“Charlee? You just missed her. Left just a minute ago.” His blue eyes draw up and down my body, likely noticing the tension it feels like I’m carrying in every single muscle. “She was waiting here for you but then she got a text from Claire. Said she was in a cab on her way home. Ran out of here but asked me to tell you. You find your girl before she took off?”
“I’m the one that put her in that cab.”
His brows jump. “You let her go?”
My head bobs with a nod.
“You get her number?”
I sigh. “No.” And now I won’t, because Charlee’s gone.
There’s over six million people in this city. How the hell am I going to find just one?
***
CHAPTER FIVE
Claire
I’m in the worst mood. I don’t know why I’m being so cynical, but I can’t help it. The weekend was long and overwhelming, emotionally and physically exhausting.
When I woke up Saturday morning, it was with a splitting headache, an empty stomach, and alcohol accounting for at least fifty percent of my water weight. Now it’s Monday, and my headache has decided it likes me too much to leave and wants to be friends.
I’m still not over Avery.
I mean, Friday night. Shit.
Well, that tells me where my head’s at this morning. It sounds about right, I guess. I mean, I couldn’t get that man out my brain all weekend. His memory set up shop, kicked back and relaxed with a cold beer and an all-too-endearing smirk.
Avery made me feel sexy, and that right there is about the scariest feeling. How could a man I knew absolutely nothing about make me feel something I hadn’t felt in years? Hellbent on spiraling down a deep and dark hole of I’ll never be good enough, a perfect stranger gave me his hand and pulled me right out, if only for a night.
So, I don’t feel sexy.
But I did with Avery.
And in comes the man who makes me feel anything but sexy, the reason for all my self-doubt. I should have never let Aaron drag me out of the bar, but that’s how we got to that alley—he literally dragged me by my elbow.
I hate that I let him get to me, let him see the way he wrecked me.
And then Avery was there, pulling Aaron off me, demanding that he leave.
There was none of that cocky, self-absorbed air left about him then. He was just kind. Quiet. Gentle. Walked me to a cab and put me in it. For a brief moment I’d thought about asking him to come with me.
But then I’d used my brain.
