Dating Games(6)

“However, being a wedding planner’s assistant didn’t pay enough to cover all our bills, not to mention my student loans, so I got a second job as a bartender. All to support Trevor so the only thing he had to worry about was studying. I figured he’d return the favor down the road. I suppose he did, in his own way. After he passed the bar and got a job at an incredible firm, we eventually moved into a great apartment in Brooklyn. One he paid for, which he reminds me regularly.” I pinch my lips, shaking my head at how blind I’ve been. “My support of his dreams has been nothing short of unwavering. I don’t think he’s ever truly supported me in mine.”

I jump off the bartop and grab my glass, pacing as I attempt to come to terms with how Trevor could be so callous as to break up with me without even a hint of remorse or regret.

“I was the perfect girlfriend. I kept our place clean, despite working long hours. On those nights he worked late, I often dropped by the firm to bring him dinner. I was so convinced if I did everything right, we’d fly off into the sunset like Danny and Sandy and live happily ever after. Hell, I even waxed for him.” I gesture to my crotch area. “Do you have any idea how much that hurts? That shit feels like someone just doused gasoline all over your nether regions, then lit a match and tossed it, forcing you to wallow in agony for hours with no relief in sight.” I pause, allowing the laughter to swell, then die down. “But I did it for him. Because that’s what people do when they’re in love, isn’t it? They do everything to keep the other person happy.”

Everyone seems to nod in agreement.

“What they don’t do is break up with them on their thirtieth…fucking…birthday because they no longer think their partner of twelve years is serious enough.”

“Fuck him,” a man shouts above the silence, his New York accent thick. I look in his direction as he raises his beer toward me. “He doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

I nod, smiling in appreciation. “You’re probably right. Because everything he’s done tells me I deserve someone so much better than what I allowed myself to settle for, all because he checked off every box the teenage version of myself said she wanted in a potential husband.”

I blow out a long breath, blinking back the tears forming. “But how do you tell your heart to stop loving someone?”

My expression turns pleading, inwardly wishing someone has the secret to this. The atmosphere shifts, becoming more solemn. I hate ending my story on such a sour note, so I force a smile, although it doesn’t reach my eyes.

“I’ll tell you what you do, Evie.” My voice wavers. “You take a page from Scarlett ‘Fuck All Men’ O’Hara. A lovely Irish lass, much like myself. You worry about it tomorrow.” I lift my glass and practically the entire bar follows suit. “Because tomorrow is another day,” I finish in my best Scarlett O’Hara impression.

In an instant, the deafening sound of cheers and applause surrounds me. By morning, I may regret consuming the amount of alcohol that provided me the loose lips to share my heartache with a room of strangers. Based on the phones that have been pointed at me the past several minutes, I’m sure I’ll be a viral sensation by tomorrow. Right now, none of that matters. All that does is trying to salvage what I can of my thirtieth birthday.

With a smile, I curtsey once more, slowly turning to each corner of the bar to offer my thanks for their rapt attention.

And that’s when I notice him.

Outwardly, there’s nothing unique about him.

Except for the disheveled light brown hair that curls over the collar of his perfectly tailored suit.

Except for the penetrating blue eyes that remain locked on me, the heat in his gaze making me think he can read my innermost secrets.

Except for the way he’s the only one not clapping, simply assessing everything about me.

He’s sitting by himself at a table in the corner, away from the regular Thursday evening revelry. While this isn’t a complete dive bar, he still seems out of place with his Armani suit and Tag Heuer watch. Needless to say, I’m intrigued. Who is he? Why is he peering at me in a way that makes me feel like he can see straight through the mask?

“What are you going to do about your living situation?” Nora asks once the laughter and applause die down.

I snap out of my daze and lower myself back to my chair. My limbs are jittery as I take a deep breath, unable to shake the heat of a pair of blue eyes staring at me.

“I’m not sure.” My voice is distant. “He said I didn’t have to move out right away. And maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe Trevor needs some time to realize what a mistake this is.”

“You honestly think it’s a mistake?” Chloe presses, obviously annoyed.

“He is under a lot of pressure with that big trial coming up. If this one goes well, he could be on a fast track for junior partner. I think…” I toy with the stem of my glass. “I’m sure he’ll eventually come to his senses. I mean, if he didn’t want to be with me, why wouldn’t he insist I immediately find somewhere else to live? He knows I could crash on the pullout in your den. Instead, he told me to stay as long as I need.” I’m probably grasping at straws, but I’m not ready to give up on Trevor yet. Maybe he needs to know that. “Perhaps if I’m still living there, he’ll be reminded of exactly what he’s throwing away.”