Heartbreaker(9)
I laugh, but the joke is bittersweet. Lottie was only seventeen when she sat us down and announced she was pregnant. She doesn’t talk about the father, never even told us his name. All she gave was a fierce glare and the information that he was out of the picture. That was the last she’d say about it. I was two years into drama school in New York, and in a whole mess of trouble myself, so it made sense for me to come home. I was able to help her out with the baby, far away from the big city lights, and from all the mistakes I’d been making. It was a wake-up call, a way to find meaning again after searching so desperately – recklessly – in all the wrong places.
Sometimes, I think she saved my life.
“So what are you wearing for this hot date?” Lottie demands. “Not that sweater, I hope.”
I look down at the garment in my hand. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s fine for a tea party with the historical society,” she snorts. “Would it kill you to show a little cleavage? There’s a magic little something called Wonderbra.” Lottie leaps up. “You can borrow mine!”
“No, thank you!” I quickly get to my feet as well. “I’m playing it casual, OK? This is just a drinks date at Dixie’s. A drink that might not even be a real date. Trust me, when I want to look sexy, you’ll be the first to know.”
“At least let me do something with your hair,” she pleads. “Some cute bangs… I have my stuff right here!”
Lottie cuts hair at the local salon, and is actually a genius when it comes to transforming people with just the right style. Still, I’m not about to risk her going wild with the scissors. The last time I let her loose on my hair, she took off five inches because she ‘wanted to see how it looks.’ Luckily, Kit slowly rocks over and lets out a wail of surprise as he tumbles to the carpet. Lottie goes to scoop him up, distracted. “You’re not getting off so easy,” she says, cooing. “I want details. Lots of details.”
“Will do.” I kiss Kit goodbye, then let myself out. My sister’s voice echoes after me, down the garden path.
“And wear those tight jeans, so he can see your butt!”
It’s a warm evening, so I decide to leave my car at home and walk over to the bar. I’m staying in a house in the woods this month, and the road is lined with graceful old cypress trees, casting mysterious shadows in my path. As I walk into town, I try to put Finn McKay out of my mind for good. If I’m lucky, I probably won’t even see him again. He’ll be too busy out at his new place, throwing big parties for all his rock star friends and doing whatever it is he’s been doing for the past five years. Without me.
I cut past the harbor, and can already hear music and laughter from inside the bar from half a block away. Dixie’s is an institution in town, opened by the lady herself, a pint-sized spitfire with dyed red hair and a shotgun tucked behind the bar. Everyone has a story to tell about this place, from the dads reminiscing about beers with their buddies, to moms remembering all the illicit things that went on in the back booths. For us kids, it was the ultimate rite of passage to go sneak a beer there underage, but Dixie never blinked. She just served us watered-down draft and turned a blind eye – as long as things never got out of hand.
Tonight, the place is full and noisy, filled with the usual local Friday night crowds. I’m barely through the door when Delilah sweeps me into a hug. “Two hot guys in one day? Either you’re on fire, or I’m seriously off my game.”
“How do you--?”
“Lottie called and filled me in with all the scandalous details. Now, where’s this hunky vet?”
I look around, but I don’t see Sawyer. “I’m early. He’s not here yet.”
Delilah fusses with my hair. She’s wearing a tight red tank top, and as she looks me up and down, I can tell she’s wishing I had dolled up more. “Well,” she sighs. “At least you wore the jeans.”
I shake my head. “Since when are the two of you conspiring behind my back?”
“Since you need a kick up the ass.” Delilah kisses me on the cheek. “Good luck, babe. And if he turns out to be boring, just give me the secret signal and I’ll come rescue you.”
“What’s the signal?”
“Just throw your drink over him.”
I laugh. “Real secret.”
She heads back to her table, and I make my way to the bar and order a beer. I wait for Sawyer to show, and as the minutes tick past I’m surprised to find my stomach fluttering a little with nerves. It should be no big deal, meeting a guy for a drink, but the truth is, my romantic life has been pretty… non-existent. After New York, I wasn’t ready to date for a long while, recently my dating world has consisted of some awkward fix-ups (courtesy of Delilah) and a lot of nights watching Netflix with Lottie and Kit. But Sawyer seems like he could have real potential. In the five minutes I actually spent talking to him, that is.
I check my phone and find a voicemail from an unfamiliar number. Just as I’m about to listen, my phone rings again.
“Hello?”
“Eva, it’s Sawyer—” His voice is hard to hear over the spirited argument next to me, so I slip down from my stool.
“Hold on, I’m just going somewhere less noisy.” I head outside to the parking lot. “OK, I can hear you now.”