Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
I had to talk to her. I couldn’t help myself.
I walked around the bar, up behind her, and took a deep breath.
“Well, hello, stranger,” I said.
She turned around slowly, and her gaze floated up to mine in confusion. Her big, brown eyes narrowed after a moment, and her lips parted. I was drawn to them. I wanted to taste the cherries on them.
“Mark,” I said.
The confidence I had gone into this conversation with faded quickly. She was still looking at me like she had no idea who I was or why I would be talking to her.
“Yeah, I remember who you are,” she said. “I just didn’t know you were back in town.”
The look on her face had faded from confusion to almost annoyance. I was seriously starting to second-guess my attempt at talking to her, but I was in too deep now. I had to at least see this thing through to the end.
“Well, not really so much back in town,” I said. “Just here visiting Pops.”
“Pops?” she asked.
“My dad,” I said. “The town doc, Dr. Murphy.”
“Oh, right,” she said. “Of course. I forgot you were his son.”
“Ah,” I said. “Yeah, he’s not feeling well, so I came back into town for a few days. I just got in and thought I’d swing by the old stomping grounds and grab something to eat.”
“Oh,” she said. “Do you want to sit here?”
“Yeah, that would be great,” I said, suddenly feeling a bit more upbeat. Even if she wasn’t still fully remembering me, at least she hadn’t told me to get lost. “You know, the cherries are usually easier to stab when you drink the liquid first.”
It was an attempt, and a poor one, at striking up conversation. As soon as it was out of my mouth, I realized that perhaps criticizing her drinking choices and methods was not a good look. But she didn’t seem to mind, shrugging and picking up the sword again to take another attempt.
“I was just lost in my thoughts,” she said. “I was supposed to be here with my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” I asked, a sudden heavy feeling filling the bottom of my stomach. Heat went up the back of my neck. I was going to need an exit strategy, apparently.
“Ex now,” she said. “We were supposed to be getting engaged.”
“Supposed to?”
“Yeah,” she said, stabbing again before tossing the stirrer aside and taking a big, deep sip. “We were talking about getting married. He led me to believe that he was going to ask me soon. Today should have been our anniversary, and we had planned this trip back here. We were going to come to Big Danny T’s. I was positive he was going to propose.”
“What happened?” I asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I don’t care,” she said, downing the rest of her drink and signaling the bartender for another. “He left me for my best friend.”
“What?” I asked.
“Well, he didn’t say that in so many words. But it’s what he did,” she said. “A couple of months ago he just calls me out of the blue and says he needs his space. So, I figure he’s just getting cold feet about the whole thing and say sure. You know? Just let him have his damn space. I get that. It’s a big life choice to get engaged.
“Then he calls me again like three days later, and I’m thinking he’s come to his senses. Instead, he goes on and on about how he supposedly hadn’t been happy with me for a long time and said he was done. Just done. Like it was nothing.”
“Oh no,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
“You haven’t heard the worst part,” she sighed. “Two days later, I get a call from a friend of mine, and she says she saw him around town. With my best friend. Or who I thought was my best friend. Traitorous bitch.”
“Whoa,” I said, having not expected a life story and now receiving what sounded like a prequel to an episode of one of those shows about why women murder. “Do you think they were together before he broke up with you?”
She nodded.
“I mean, it’s possible they weren’t,” I said. “I’m sure he just kind of stumbled into it with your friend. I don’t think your friend would do you dirty like that, right?”
She shrugged. “I don’t really think that’s a possibility,” she said. “He cheated. With her. She was probably at his house when he called and said he needed space.”
“Yeesh,” I said. “I am so sorry to hear all that. No one deserves that kind of bullshit, especially someone as beautiful as you.”
She paused, the glass of her refilled cherry-bottomed drink halfway to her lips. She smirked.
“Uh huh,” she said. “Right.”
“It’s true,” I said. “You’re gorgeous. Anyone who cheats on you is a moron.”
“Well, here’s to morons then,” she said, holding her glass out. “There sure do seem to be a bunch of them.”