I force my thoughts to something else before my body gets out of hand. New Orleans is one of those things that’s better off dead. If only I were as fortunate as Marissa and didn’t remember it at all . . .
A nice, soft breast rubs up against my arm. I look to my left to see a busty blonde lean in next to me. The chair on the other side is empty, so she’s got plenty of room. She just doesn’t want to take it. She’d rather have my attention instead.
She orders a margarita, then turns her heavily made-up eyes to me. “Don’t think I’ve seen you ’round here before.”
“That’s because you haven’t,” I respond.
“Didn’t think so. I’d remember a man like you.”
I smile at her overt tactics. “Yes, you certainly would.” I bring the cool beer bottle to my lips and take a sip. Instantly, I think of Marissa. The beer and the thought leave me thirsty, but not for anything in front of me.
I frown as I swallow my mouthful of brew. Normally, ass is ass. As long as it looks clean and willing and smells nice, I’ll tap it. That’s what condoms are for.
But not tonight. For the first time in . . . well, years, my appetite is very specific. There’s one thing I want, one person. And it’s not the blonde at my side. It’s the one sitting coolly by herself on the other side of the room.
Following my thoughts, my eyes flicker to where Marissa is seated and collide with hers. Before she glances guiltily away, I see fury. Jealous fury.
Normally, I don’t put up with that kind of thing, but in this case, I find it intriguing. It seems out of character for her, like a hidden flaw that’s coming to light. Makes me want to explore it. Just like her anger from earlier.
Whatever the cause, anger is something I can relate to, identify with. But it makes me feel drawn to her, connected to her in a way that I don’t want to feel. I’m a loner. I don’t need roots or ties or involvements. Marissa’s the exact opposite. She’s the type that needs all that.
I’m the leaving kind. And she needs the staying kind.
Maybe we both need reminding of that.
With that in mind, I grab the hand of the blonde who’s busting out of her top and take her with me to the dance floor.
TWENTY-TWO
Marissa
My heart splinters right inside my chest as Nash leads the girl through the crowd. I should stop watching him. But I can’t. I can’t stop watching him any more than I could stay away from him when I could’ve avoided all this.
I knew what kind of guy he was, what kind of guy he is. One look at him will tell any girl with half a brain what kind of guy he is. He’s the kind that will break your heart. Without a thought or a backward glance, right before he walks out of your life.
It’s not like he didn’t warn you.
That only makes me feel worse. It makes me feel stupid on top of everything else.
As I watch him dance with the slutty blonde—which he does amazingly well, I might add—I can’t help but feel a devastating sense of letdown. It sounds crazy, no doubt, but I think some part of the new me hoped that I’d find love in an unexpected place, in an unexpected way. Nash is both.
Having him fall for me, being the one who could heal him and make him love again, would’ve been a wonderful way to start my new life. But maybe it’s not meant to be. Maybe I’m supposed to cut all ties and find my way on my own. Completely on my own. I’ve never been on my own like that before. Maybe it’s time I am.
In my head, that sounds all Antigone-esque, but in my heart it just feels lonely. And empty.
Suddenly the room and all its happy celebration feels suffocating. I slide from my bar stool to flee the weight that’s pressing in on my chest, but a firm grip on my shoulder stops me. I turn to see Ginger. She shakes her head, as if telling me not to leave, gives me a wink, and then turns to speak into the crowd.
“Who’d like to see the birthday girl open her presents?” Even with the loud music, Ginger’s voice can be heard easily. No doubt that’s a pretty handy talent for a bartender to have. As if on cue, someone lowers the music and the sea of faces turn toward Ginger.
I sit back down. I’m stuck. There’s no way to exit now without appearing rude and inconsiderate. Plastering a smile on my face, I look around to find Olivia, purposely avoiding looking at Nash and that . . . that . . . woman.
I see Cash first. His head is visible above practically every other one in the room. He’s smiling, his chin resting atop a shiny, black head. I lean a little to my left and see Olivia wrapped in his arms, hugged against his chest, facing her crowd of friends. She’s smiling like the happiest girl alive.
My chest aches and my eyes burn. I envy her. Not that I begrudge Olivia happiness. I don’t. I just wish I were more like her. In every way.
My chin trembles and I force back tears. I was never this girl before—emotional, wistful, possessive, particularly caring, out of control—but I guess being a better person, being considerate and sympathetic, can’t come without some pain. I just didn’t realize it would be so much.
I look at Olivia and see the payoff, though. She’s in a room full of genuine friends who love her for who she is, not what kind of stock she came from or how she can help them rise to a higher place in the world. She’s met the love of her life and wound him around her little finger. And she can lay her head down every night knowing she’s truly loved and that she was a bright spot in a dark world that day. She doesn’t need riches or material possessions. She doesn’t need a powerful father or a great family name. She didn’t need a fancy (and useless) degree. She’s just decent. Soul-deep decent.
“Mine first, mine first!” Cash says, waving his hand toward someone in the crowd. I look back through the faces until I see Nash step forward to hand Cash a long, narrow box wrapped in simple yet luxurious red velvet. I know instantly where the package came from. And my heart hits the floor. I have a sinking suspicion I misjudged Nash.
I watch Cash take the box he probably hid from Olivia with Nash and hand it to her. Her smile still in place, she loosens the matching velvet bow and pulls the material away from the rectangle. Cash reaches around her to lift the lid away and Olivia’s eyes get round.
“Oh, Cash! It’s beautiful!”
She pulls out a bracelet. Even from my distance and vantage point, I can see that it’s got three rows of jewels—an emerald one with diamond rows on either side. It’s stunning and will go perfectly with the emerald earrings I bought her.